Archive of Our Own ^beta

THEN

Noah walks the streets of his hometown and wonders for probably the tenth time since he got back that morning just what the hell he’s doing here.  He should have just taken up Jay’s offer to stay on his couch and spend the summer the way he had been spending the rest of the school year: working at the library and volunteering at the fire station just off campus.  He’s still not entirely sure why he had declined.  Why he had thought coming back to Beacon Hills would be a good idea.

A couple comes out of a store a few steps in front of him and he has to shorten his stride as he follows them down the block.  He can’t step around them because it’s surprisingly busy on Main Street today and he can’t push between them because he might not have absorbed all the manners his parents had drilled into him but he’s not a complete heathen so he’s forced to watch the way they lean in close and the girl giggles into the guy’s shoulder and, oh yeah.  That’s why he had passed up Jay’s couch: Jay’s new girlfriend.  They were still in that lovey-dovey, all over each other, eyes only for each other, making out on all surfaces available stage, and it kind of makes Noah’s stomach churn to see all that ‘new relationship buzz’ on display.

Plus he and Jay had become pretty awesome friends this past year at college and he doesn’t really want to test that friendship by explaining that he knows Jay’s new girlfriend is faking it by the way her voice is all breathy and light because Noah himself had spent his first winter break at college practically living in said girl’s off campus apartment.  And her bed.

Personally he doesn’t care that much if Jay finds out he slept with her like a year and a half ago.  It’s not like she and Jay had even known each other those few weeks Noah had been with her or anything.  But the look in her eyes when she saw him sprawled on Jay’s couch watching the game with him the day they had been “introduced” had promised him all kinds of pain and trouble if he so much as hinted at knowing her.

So he had played stupid.  It was something he was good at.  He’s not really sure why people always seemed to expect him to be dumb but he had learned at a young age to take every advantage he could find.  So when his professors dumbed things down for him and gave him a little leeway for tougher exam questions, he took it.  When the guys at the fire station joked around and said things that he knew they didn’t expect him to understand, he held on to the words until he could use them later.  When the girls in his classes gave him that look like he was just a poor lost puppy they couldn’t wait to take home and pamper, he let them.  When the guys in the gym gave him that look like they didn’t think he was quick enough to understand the attention, he basked in it.  Ms. Miner, the head librarian of the campus’ library, was about the only one who called him on it.  But she was cool, for an older lady, and he accepted her big words and complex instructions and recommended books with a kind of grace that he could tell she didn’t expect from him.

He follows the couple to the end of the block and takes a deep breath when they turn the same direction he had been planning on going.  There’s a chance they’re not going to the same place as him, but it’s a very slim chance.  There’s not a lot to do in Beacon Hills at 11 on a Friday morning.  Doubly so when it’s the first day of summer vacation for most of the kids.

So he follows the couple down the next block and into Beacon Hills’ most popular diner for anyone under the age of 30.  If it were a few hours later he’d be able to sneak over to a nearby town and slip into a bar or club or even find a nice party to waste a few hours with.  But he had needed to get the hell out of the house and this was about his only choice.

“Go ahead and grab a seat,” the girl standing behind the register says.  “We’ll be right over.”

Noah makes sure to sit as far from the couple he had followed in as possible and he slides into an empty booth.  He can already tell it’s gonna be a long couple of months.  Maybe he should look into a summer job.  The best ones are probably already taken by the local kids — and he doesn’t feel like thinking about why he already feels like he’s not one of the locals after barely two years away thanks so much — but he’s not afraid of hard work.  Especially if it gets him out of the house.  The pocket money would just be a bonus.

He’s in the middle of trying to come up with where he might be able to get a job for a few weeks at least when there’s a burst of noise before two bodies fall into the seat across from him.

“Hey, uh—” he gets out before he’s shushed by the pretty brown-eyed girl who is sitting on the outside edge of the seat and glancing towards the door.

“Sorry.  We just need a minute,” the equally pretty blue-eyed boy says distractedly as he peeks out the window.  There’s something familiar about them both but they’re too busy glancing around the diner and out the window for him to properly see their faces.

“Yeah,” the girl agrees.  “Deputy Mills is a little terrifying.”  Then she lets out a relieved breath and turns to sit properly in the seat.  It takes a second of her staring at him but then her eyes light up.  “You, of all people, understand.  Right, Noah?”

The boy settles in his seat and those blue eyes bore into Noah like he’s cataloging every move Noah makes and filing it all away for future reference.

He lets a slow smile curl his lips — the one that he knows earns him at least half of the assumptions that he’s just a simple minded young man, cute but kind of dense — as he glances between the two teenagers across from him.

“Of course I do, Claudia.”  She grins at him.  “Peter,” he says.

“Noah,” Peter acknowledges.

He doesn’t know either of them all that well.  Not anymore anyway.  For a few years after she had moved here he and Claudia had been damn near inseparable.  But then middle school had happened and by the time she was there, two years after him, he was almost on his way into high school and they had simply drifted apart.  As for Peter, well, he barely even knew him at all.  Knew more of him than anything else.  Both the youngest and oldest Hale “child” in a weird twist of nature that had him only a year older than his niece.

“So what did you kids do to have the delightful Ms. Mills after you at—” he checks his watch “— not even noon less than a week after you graduated?”

“Well, if anyone asks, we've been with you all morning,” Claudia tells him.  “Just in case you forgot in your old age or something.”

Peter lets out a strangled noise and glares at Claudia but Noah just nods.  He can be an alibi.  Heaven knows he’s used his fair share of them.

A presence looms over them and Noah turns with a smile already in place.

“Deputy Mills,” he greets politely.  “How are you today?”

“Just fine, Mr. Stilinski.”

“Noah, please.”

Deputy Mills rolls her eyes at him and then looks at the other two.

“Care to tell me what, exactly, you’ve been up to today?” she asks.

Noah’s eyes flicker towards the other side of the booth and sees the way Peter’s chin tilts up while Claudia’s jaw tenses.

“Oh I can answer that,” Noah says, drawing her attention to him.  “We went for a long walk through town and they caught me up on what I’ve missed since I was last home.  I wanted to stop for ice cream but Claudia told me that I would ruin my appetite.  Peter said we should compromise and stop here for lunch and get shakes for dessert.”

He doesn’t watch the way their eyes widen as the lies slip off his tongue, easy as breathing.  Nor does he watch the way Claudia blinks a few times before she drops her elbows on the table and laughs before launching into a story about something she had told him that caused an argument.   An argument that he dutifully continues as Deputy Mills stares at them all.  He doesn’t see the way Peter relaxes into a slouch in the corner of the booth but he feels Peter’s foot tap his in a silent thanks that he returns with a tap of his own.

“Just for the record,” Deputy Mills says, interrupting his argument with Claudia about the benefits of chocolate for breakfast.  “I don’t believe you for a second.”  She gives them each a stern look.  “Not one second.”  Then she shakes her head and smiles and Noah knows that it’ll be fine.  He’s gotten that smile dozens of times over the years.  “And off the record you did a pretty good job with the TP.  But just remember: you’re not kids anymore.  You’re all over eighteen now.  And your actions have consequences.”

“Understood, Deputy,” Noah says.  Deputy Mills holds his gaze and then tilts her head.

“I know you do.  Just make sure they understand it too, Noah.”

“Will do, Jody.”  He smiles at her.  “I promise.”

He hadn’t planned on being a babysitter this summer.  But he supposes there’s worse ways to spend his summer break than with these two.

—

NOW

Noah listens to the thunder rumbling in the distance for a few seconds before he shuts the window and sighs.

“Hey, Kiddo,” he calls out knowing someone will answer him.

Isaac pokes his head into Noah’s office.  “What’s up?”

“I figure you two have about an hour before it starts pouring.  If you’re gonna go for a run you might want to do it soon so you’re not dripping everywhere when you get back.”  Isaac nods and starts to pull away but he freezes when Noah clears his throat.  “I mean it.  You two cover everything in mud and rainwater again and not only are you cleaning it up you’re both on house arrest for at least a week.  Understood?”

Isaac makes a face but he nods and agrees to the potential punishment.  A few moments later Noah hears Stiles groan and grumble and generally be a noisy teenager but before long he can hear them scrambling down the halls and shooting out the back door to enjoy the woods before the rain starts.

“I swear,” Peter says from his armchair in the corner.

“Swear what?”

“I was never that dramatic as a teenager.”  Noah snorts and pulls the stack of bills he’s been working on towards him.   Peter looks up from the book he’s been taking notes from.  “What?  What was that for?”

“Nothing.”

“Mhmm I doubt that.  What was so funny?”

“Pretty sure you were one of the most dramatic teenagers I had ever met.”

“Excuse me?”  He catches the wad of paper Peter throws at his head without even looking up from the bills  “Claudia was twice as dramatic as I was on any given day.”

“Not quite how I remember it,” Noah says, tossing the paper back at Peter.

“Yes, well.  They do say that your memory does tend to get a bit patchy when you get old.”

Noah dignifies that with the only response he can: he sticks out his tongue and flips Peter off.

“Yeah, yeah.  Shut up and let the old man pay the bills.  Unless you want to take a crack at them.”  

This time it’s Peter who snorts.  “Um, no.  We both know that I do not have the brain for numbers in this household.  Plotting, schemes, and general tomfoolery?  Yes.  Bills, budgets, and taxes?  Not so much.  That’s all you, babe.”

“Thanks, love you too,” Noah mutters as he double checks their bank statement.  “Do I want to know why there’s a two-hundred dollar charge from the hardware store on here?”

The office falls so quiet that for a moment he thinks maybe Peter somehow slipped out or something.  He looks over almost expecting to see an empty armchair and instead sees the guiltiest face he’s seen Peter wearing in years.  Peter licks his lips and glances towards the window and then the door and pointedly does not look at Noah.

“Well…”

Noah rubs his forehead.  “Did you break it?”

“…No.”

“Did you make whoever broke it, fix it?”

“Yes.”

Plotting, schemes, and tomfoolery indeed.  It’s not worth the argument and, honestly, if he hasn’t noticed whatever it is by now whoever broke it clearly did a good job fixing it.  Or Peter called someone else to fix it.  He glances through their bank and credit card statements again but can’t find any sort of service or handyman listed so unless Peter dipped into his personal cash funds…

Whatever.  Either way.  Not worth the argument.  He just shakes his head and returns to the bills, listening to the wind picking up outside and the soft sounds of Peter writing notes for whatever it is he’s researching this week.  He glances at the window and hopes that the kids make it back before the storm hits.  He figures they’ve got about twenty minutes before it starts and maybe a half hour before it gets nasty.  Peter makes a contemplative noise as he flips back and forth through his book a few times.

“Was it yours, mine, or ours?” Noah asks.

“Mine,” Peter replies distractedly as he skims the page.  He freezes and then lets out a groan.  “I cannot believe you just did that.”

“I can’t believe it worked,” Noah laughs.  He doesn’t even care what Derek did.  He’s just happy he got Peter to spill which kid it was without it turning into a whole drawn out thing like Peter likes to do sometimes.

“You are a terrible human being.”  Peter twists his lips into a pout and sinks even deeper into the armchair.  “Just absolutely terrible.”

“Yeah I know.  It keeps me up at night.”

—

THEN

“Where’s your much better half today?”

Noah peeks around the car he’s been working on and sees Peter Hale standing near the front of the garage,  ignoring the guy — Taylor — who had called out to him.

“Hey, I’m talking to you.”  

Noah doesn’t like Taylor.  Eddie, the main mechanic at the garage, is the closest thing they have to a boss most days.  Not that Taylor cares.  Because Taylor’s dad owns the garage and so in Taylor’s mind he’s the de facto boss when his dad isn’t there.  Despite the fact that he’s got about as much experience with cars as Noah does.

“Hey.  Hale.  You deaf along with dumb?”

Peter turns and gives Taylor a bland look.

“Don’t worry,” Peter says.  “I’m not here to challenge you.  Your title as the town idiot is still firmly in your grasp.”

Taylor scowls and starts towards Peter.  “Listen here—”

“Hey, Peter,” Noah cuts Taylor off and waves Peter over.  The last thing he wants to deal with is being witness to the epic beating Peter would give Taylor.  He’s never actually seen Peter fight.  But he moves with a kind of grace that Noah’s never really seen before.  A self-assuredness that he carries himself with despite the fact he’s just barely eighteen.

“Noah,” Peter greets.  “I’ve been sent to ask if you have an update on Claudia’s monstrosity.”

The only thing better than making Peter talk about Claudia’s baby blue jeep is making him ride in it and the only thing better than that is making him drive it.  Which is why he tells Peter to wait out front for about a half an hour until he’s off work specifically so he can toss Peter the keys and hop into the passenger seat before Peter can fully register what’s happening.

“No,” Peter says, arms crossed and Claudia’s chunky keyring hanging from his fingertips.  “Uh-uh.  I’m not driving.”

“I can’t drive it,” Noah says.  “I left my wallet at home and I have it on good authority that Deputy Mills is on traffic duty today.  She would happily give me a ticket for driving without my license.”

“It’s, like, six blocks to Claudia’s.”

“Better safe than sorry, Peter.”

Peter lets out a grumbling little growly noise that does not make him seem adorable as he climbs into the driver’s seat and starts the jeep.  Not at all.

“I can’t believe you’re making me drive this… thing.”

Noah just chuckles and relaxes in the seat as Peter pulls out of the parking lot.  He doesn’t even comment on the fact that it’s not Claudia’s place they seem to be driving to, considering the turn to her house was about three blocks ago.  Peter had glanced at him as he passed the turn but Noah had simply stared up at the sky and let Peter drive.  He doesn’t care where they’re going.  Hell, Peter could be driving him to the Preserve to murder him and bury his body in the woods and Noah doesn’t even think he’d care much.

He had known that coming back to Beacon Hills for break wouldn’t consist of three months of the most fun he’s ever had.  But he hadn’t anticipated it being so much of a pain.  He rolls his shoulder and blatantly ignores Peter’s look in his direction when he winces at the motion.  Dad had been home last night — the first night all week — and needless to say Noah hadn’t slept the greatest with all the yelling and crashing happening in the living room.

He knows he should step in but the memories of the last time he tried that haunt his mind when he actually considers it; phantom bruises flushing his skin and words he knows better than to believe rattling around in his brain.

Peter takes a deep breath and looks at Noah again, lips parting like he’s going to say something but then he shakes his head and takes a sharp right onto a gravel road Noah hadn’t even realized was there.

“Is this where you kill me, leave my body in the woods for the scavengers, and claim you gave me a ride to the nearest bus station when Deputy Mills comes asking about me in a week?”

Peter laughs and it seems light and carefree.  Except Noah can see the way Peter’s fingers are tight on the wheel and his smile doesn’t quite make it to his eyes when they glance at each other.

“Please, Noah,” Peter says playfully.  “If I were to leave you in the woods there wouldn’t be a body.  I’m much too careful with my kills to leave scraps behind.”

He studies Peter and Peter just… sits there and lets him.  He has a feeling, from what he’s seen of Peter this last week or so, that it’s something Peter doesn’t really let people do.  He puts on a show, puts on a mask, only lets people see what he wants them to.  Noah can understand that.

“I have no idea if that is supposed to be reassuring or not,” he finally says.

Peter shrugs as he pulls off the gravel road and parks the jeep.  “That depends.”

“On what?”

“Do you want me to be reassuring?”  There’s something in Peter’s eyes as he stares at Noah, something bright and challenging and so real compared to the way most people look at him.  It makes his skin crawl with anticipation for something he can’t quite grasp.

“Not really,” he admits, voice rougher than expected.  “I’d rather you be honest.”

Noah’s caught in Peter’s gaze for a few more seconds and then Peter’s climbing out of the jeep and slipping into the trees.

“Who says I can’t be both?” Peter calls back.  “There’s more to me than just this pretty face, you know.”

Noah takes a couple deep breaths. 

“Yeah,” he calls out.  “You’ve also got a pretty irritating personality.”

Then he’s scrambling out of the jeep and following Peter’s laughter into the woods.

He has no idea where Peter’s taking him.  But anywhere is better than back home right now.

—

NOW

“Okay.  But consider.”  Stiles looks up at Noah with his big brown eyes and blinks slowly.  “Allowance early means I can put gas in jeep and get out of your hair.”

Noah nods a few times as he pretends to think it over.

“Counter-argument: job means you don’t need allowance to put gas in jeep.”

“Counter counter-argument: who is gonna hire the spastic ADHD son of the Sheriff?”

“I don’t know, Kiddo.  Why don’t you go put in some applications and find out?”  Stiles rolls his eyes and it’s so much like Claudia that for a moment he almost expects to hear her light laughter fill the air.  Instead Stiles grumbles and kicks at the floor for a second before turning to leave.  Noah sighs and digs out his wallet.  “Take the jeep.  It’ll make it easier to drive around and see who might be hiring.”

Stiles grins and pulls him into a tight hug before yelling at Isaac and Derek to hurry up and rushing out of the house.

“You realize you were just duped.  Right?”

Peter leans against the counter and watches as Noah pads around the kitchen and starts poking in the cupboards and trying to figure out dinner.

“First of all, you try saying no when he’s looking up at you with her eyes.”  Peter rolls his own eyes and sighs but he doesn’t try to deny that he’d do the same thing with Stiles looking at him like that.  “Second of all,” Noah says, reaching past Peter and bracing his hands on either side of Peter’s hips.  “I just got all three of them out of the house for at least a couple of hours.”

Peter smiles at him and wraps his arms around Noah’s waist, pulling him even closer.

“Whatever shall we do with a couple of hours free of teenagers?”

Noah closes the last little bit of distance between them, brushes their noses together, and whispers, “Make food because I’m damn hungry and now I don’t have to share with them.”  Then he pulls away, laughing at the indignant sputtering noises that Peter lets out.

“Why?” Peter growls.  “Why are you this way?”

“Because I’m an incorrigible tease.  You said so yourself.”

“One would think that sometime in the last decade and a half since I first said it that you would have grown out of it.  At least a little.  I mean you are the sheriff of this fine town after all.  Examples to set and all that.”

Noah looks over his shoulder and gives Peter a soft smile.  “Yeah, well.  When I’m out there, in town, I do set a good example.  Because out there I’m theirs.  In here?  This house?  Under this roof?  I’m yours.”

Peter actually flushes a little at the sincerity in Noah’s voice and he savors the sight, filing it away for later.  It doesn’t happen often so he definitely does his best to remember when it does.

“Did you want to try that carbonara recipe I found?” Peter asks.  “Since it’s just us?”

He considers pressing it a little more, reminding Peter that even after all these years he’s still Noah’s home.  Not this house.  Not this town.  Him.

“Sure.”  He says instead of all the sappy things that are crowding his throat.  “Sounds good to me.”

“I still think it’s ridiculous.  I mean.  I’ve seen them eating week old Cheetos off the floor but heaven forbid I try to get them to eat a mushroom chopped up and put in a sauce.”

Noah listens as Peter starts ranting about their teenagers’ food choices and their grocery lists and half a dozen other things as he cooks.  Noah helps when he’s directed to but otherwise he’s perfectly content to simply sit and listen and nod or hum in the right places.  It’s always been like this with them.  Something about Peter’s presence has always soothed him, grounded him.  

Peter’s presence doesn’t make him feel like nothing bad will ever happen.  It makes him feel like no matter what bad thing does happen, they’ll both make it through in the end.

They’ll handle whatever it is when it gets to them.  Whether they want to or not.

—

THEN

“So,” Claudia drags out the word as she sidles up next to Noah.

Noah raises his eyebrows in question and she just grins at him.

“So?” he finally questions when he gets tired of watching her waggle her eyebrows at him.

“So Peter told me all about what you two got up to in the woods yesterday.”

Noah glances around and there’s no one else in this part of the library but he still grabs Claudia’s elbow and drags her into the corner.

“He did not,” Noah whispers.

“He did too,” Claudia whispers back.

“No.”

“Yes.”

Noah drags his hand down his face and groans softly.  Sure he hadn’t told Peter not to tell anyone else.  But Peter didn’t really seem the type who would run off and share what they had done with anyone.

“So he told you we made out,” Noah says cautiously, watching her carefully.

Claudia’s smile widens.  “Oh he told me more than that.”

“Shit,” Noah hisses.  “I can’t believe he told you I had my hands down his pants.  I would have thought he’d keep quiet.  He is not the sharing and caring type of…”  Claudia’s mouth is hanging open just a little and her eyes are sparkling and Noah closes his eyes.  “He didn’t tell you.”

“Oh he told me you two got hot and heavy.  He just never clarified how hot or heavy.”  Her cheeks turn a bright pink as she blinks a few times, gaze distant.  “Thanks for the mental images.”

“I hate you,” Noah mutters.  

He slips away from her and heads down a random aisle.  He can’t even remember what he had been looking for.  He rubs his cheek and shakes his head.  He’s blushing.  He has no idea why.  It’s not like Peter’s the first guy whose pants he’s gotten into.  It’s not like this is the first time a mutual friend has found out and teased him about it either.  Though Claudia hadn’t teased him.

Not yet anyway.

He stalks along the aisles, cheeks hot and eyes barely even registering the books he’s passing as he tries to figure out why it’s bothering him so much.  So what if Claudia knows what he did or didn’t do with Peter.  They’re both consenting adults and all that.  They didn’t even do anything weird or wild other than the fact that it was the first hand job Noah’s ever given in the woods.  It was also the first one Peter had ever gotten in his life apparently.  He wasn’t surprised that Peter was a complete virgin but with the way the guy looks and talks and acts he kind of was at the same time.

Noah stops and stares at the shelf in front of him.

Oh.

He’s not upset that Claudia found out.  Not really.  He’s more upset on Peter’s behalf.  Because it was Peter’s first time doing anything like that and Noah doesn’t want Claudia to poke fun at Peter about it.  Because while Peter had just kind of shrugged it off when Noah had realized how inexperienced he was there had been a look in his eyes that practically dared Noah to say something.  An overcompensation of sorts.

He spins on his heel when Claudia peeks down the aisle and spots him.  She cautiously stops next to him and gives him a curious look that turns into surprise when he crowds into her space until she backs up into the bookshelf.

“Do not,” he whispers fiercely.  “Do not give him shit about it.”  Claudia blinks up at him for a few seconds, surprise morphing into amusement as she takes in his expression.  “I’m serious.”

“Noah,” she replies calmly.  “Peter is my best friend.  If there is anyone in this entire town who could give him shit about this?  It would be me.  And I will.  Eventually.”  She gently places her hand over his mouth, eyebrows raised, when he goes to snap at her.  “But not now.  It’s too fresh and he’s too prickly about it right now.  So all I have to say is don’t screw this up.  He’s not looking for forever or anything.  He already knows this little thing of yours has an expiration date on it.  But if you just drop him or stop talking to him now that you had some fun?  It’s not him you have to worry about burying you in the woods.  You follow me?”

He can see the truth of her words in her eyes.

He wonders what it is about Peter that inspires this kind of loyalty in her.  What Peter did that made her decide that she was his to protect and care for.

He wonders if he still has any of that loyalty of hers or if he lost the right to that when they drifted apart back in middle school.

He wonders why he cares so much either way.

“I follow,” he murmurs against her palm.

“Good.”  She pats him on the cheek a couple times before dropping her hand.  “Glad we’re on the same page.”

He’s still thinking about Claudia and the way she had dragged him around the library and then down the street to the drugstore later that night when he meets Peter by the high school.  Well.  More like he’s thinking about all the things she told him.  About how she and Peter had met.  About the dreams she and Peter shared and the ones they didn’t.  About school without Noah around to talk to.  About the years they drifted apart.  

“Earth to Noah,” Peter says as he hops into the passenger seat of Noah’s truck.  “Come in, Noah.”

“Do you need to be home any time soon?”  

He has an itch under his skin to just start driving.  To pick a direction and go and see how far they get before one of them decides they should turn around.  To see the sun set and rise in completely different places.  Peter watches him for a minute and it feels, like it always does, like Peter is seeing more than most.  His gaze lingers just below the collar of Noah’s shirt and he resists the urge to fidget.  He has no idea how but he swears it’s like Peter already knows about the bruise there, already knows the real story behind it along with the story Noah will tell if anyone asks.

“Not really, no,” Peter finally says.  “I was thinking about seeing if you wanted to head up into the hills outside of town.  There’s some nice places to park and just hang out up there.”  Peter glances out the windshield at the high school and then gives Noah a smile.  “I could show you a few of the places Claudia and I have found when we skipped school if you ask nicely.”

He takes the opening Peter leaves for him and huffs dramatically.  “I can’t believe you two would ever do something like that,” he teases as he pulls out of the lot.  “Skipping school?  No.  You’re such good kids.  Never getting into an ounce of trouble.”

“I’m glad you said that with a straight face,” Peter laughs.  “Because I’ve never been able to.”

“Though it’s not like you didn’t have the leeway or whatever.  From what Claudia said it sounds like you were both basically straight A students.  Damn near geniuses, the both of you.  I’m almost a little jealous.”

Peter rolls his eyes.  “You say that like you’re stupid or something.”

“Well I sure as shit have never had straight A’s.”

“And yet you’re in college.  With more than one academically based scholarship.  Clearly you show some kind of promise.  Doing well in high school doesn’t necessarily mean I’m smart.”

“No but the fancy words you use and the full rides you’ve earned kind of do.”

“You’re not dumb, Noah.  No matter how much you try to play it up.  Anyone with half a brain who has more than one conversation with you can see that.  And if they can’t then they’re the ones who aren’t so smart.”

—

NOW

“Actions,” Noah says sternly as he eyes the teens in front of him.  “Actions have consequences.  You know this.  I know you know this.”  He makes eye contact with each and every one of them.  Holding their gazes until they look away from him.  “If I catch you.  You will be facing the consequences.  Am I understood?”

He gets a round of grumbling agreements.  He waits a few seconds and clears his throat.

“I said.  Am I understood?”

“Understood,” echoes through the room.

“Good.  Now get out of here.”

The teens clear out of the living room, some of them heading upstairs and some of them wandering out to the backyard, until the only one left are Stiles, Jackson, and himself.

“What do you need, boys?” he asks when it becomes clear they’re waiting for something.

“Well, uh.”  Stiles glances at Jackson.  “We were just wondering…”

“Spit it out, son.”

“You said if you catch us we’ll be facing consequences,” Jackson says.

“I did.”

“What if you don’t catch us?”

Noah looks between the boys, takes a few seconds to wonder if it’s worth it to try and figure out what they did that’s prompting this question, and then sighs.  No crimes have been reported lately and nothing has come up broken or missing.

“Then I am just going to assume you’ve been spending too much time with Peter and whenever I find out what you did, and I will, it’ll be him you have to deal with.”  Stiles’ eyes widen the tiniest bit and Jackson goes a little pale.  He lets the words sink in a little bit, lets them rattle around in the boys’ brains for a few seconds before he smiles.  “Any other questions, boys?”

“Nope,” Stiles says, eyes still a little glazed over as he, no doubt, remembers the last time Peter was the one who had to deal with one of Stiles’ pranks.

“Oh.”  Jackson blinks a couple times.  “No.  No more questions.”

Jackson tugs Stiles out of the living room and Noah listens as they stumble up the stairs to Stiles’ room, the rise and fall of their voices a familiar comfort as he sinks down into his armchair.  He loves his kids, he really does, but sometimes he wonders what the hell made him say yes all those years ago.  What made him think he was parental material.

What gave him the courage to try to be a parent after all the shit he went through as a kid.

Why Claudia ever thought he’d be a good father to her son.

Peter’s weight — another familiar comfort — settles in his lap.  He drags his eyes open, unsure of when he even closed them, and blinks tiredly at Peter.

“Peter,” he greets sleepily.

“Noah.”

“Why do you smell like…”  Noah leans forward and sniffs a few times.  “Laundry soap?  Not clean laundry.  Just.  Laundry soap.”

“I don’t know.  Ask your son.”

Noah groans and pulls Peter close so he can bury his face against Peter’s shoulder.

“No,” he mutters, voice muffled as he rubs his nose against Peter’s shoulder and nuzzles his way towards Peter’s throat.  “Nope.  I’m clocked out.  I am no longer on ‘Dad Duty’, it's your problem now.”

“Babe.”

“No.”

“Babe.”

“No,” he whines.

“Sweetheart.”

“Fuck,” he growls.

“Maybe later.  If the pack of heathens we call our children go to bed at a decent time and don’t try to sneak out again.”

Some days he really, really hates being a responsible adult.  Oh sure it’s worth it when he can make his own bed time and just go out and buy a cake for no reason and eat it and decide to eat breakfast for dinner three days in a row.  But it sucks when he has to do things like pay taxes and tell his kids they can’t do things and pretend that he didn’t do the exact same bullshit when he was their age.

“Is it too late to be adopted by some rich family and live out the rest of my life in the lap of luxury?”

Peter chuckles.  “If you wanted me to be your Sugar Daddy, Noah, all you had to do was ask.  Not sure what affect that has on our house full of teens.  But we can figure that out later.  After we lay out the details of your Sugar Baby status.”

“What the fuck conversation did I just walk into?”  Stiles lets out a gagging noise.  “Like.  Ew.”

“Language,” he tells Stiles.

“Oh.  Sorry.  It’s English.”

It takes a second to sink in and before he can even scold Stiles for his sass Peter curls forward, shaking with laughter and Noah just sighs.

“Go back to your room.  I don’t know what you want or what you did or what you’re planning on trying to sneak around and do.  Just.  No.  Room.  Now.”

Stiles sucks in a breath to start on some rant or another but Peter straightens up and gives him a look that has him deflating and shuffling back to the stairs.

“Fine,” Stiles pouts.  “Be that way.  So mean.”

Peter’s lips are still twitching in amusement when their eyes meet.

“Seriously,” he grumbles.  “I am too old for this.  When did I become such an old man?”

Peter’s smile turns wicked as he settles himself more comfortably in Noah’s lap and pins Noah into the chair before he proceeds to remind Noah that he’s not nearly as old as feels sometimes.  And that they can still get up to a lot of the stuff they did back when Noah was twenty.

If they happen to scar their kids by reminding them that they are, in fact, consenting adults who enjoy making out in their own home?  Well that’s just a bonus.

—

THEN

“I beg your pardon?”

“Then beg,” Claudia says.

Noah looks over at Peter, eyes wide, and somehow isn’t surprised to see that Peter looks like this is a common thing.  He knows that Claudia is opinionated.  That she’s fierce.  That she’s unafraid of damn near everything it seems.  But he’s never witnessed her mouthing off to an authority figure quite this blatantly before.

Talia tsks and shakes her head and Claudia’s lip curls like she’s only a second or two away from ripping into Talia Hale like she’s a piece of tissue paper.

“Uh, Peter?” Noah asks softly as Talia clears her throat and tilts her chin up and looks down her nose at Claudia.

“Yeah,” Peter agrees.  He stands slowly, gaze darting between his sister and his best friend a few times like he’s not sure which one he needs to be more wary of right now.  “I think it’s time to go.”

Peter leads Claudia out of the room, murmuring softly to her.  He pushes himself to his feet but before he can leave as well Talia clears her throat again.

“Noah Stilinski.”

He winces as the front door slams shut.

“Yes, ma’am,” he says as politely as he can as he turns to her.

“You’re the one my brother has been spending so much time with since he graduated.”  

It’s not a question so he doesn’t bother answering.  Talia stares at him and he simply looks back at her.  He’s had a lot of practice at being just polite enough not to be seen as being insolent.  It’s part of his survival kit.  A skill he’s honed to damn near perfection in his twenty years of life.

He sticks his hands in his front pockets and rocks back and forth on his heels for a few seconds.

“Well.  This has been great,” he says.  “But I better get out there before Claudia leaves.  She’s my ride.”

“Take care of him,” Talia says softly when he reaches the doorway.  He glances back, unsure if he heard her right.  “He’s softer than he thinks he is.”  There’s a warning in her tone that he doesn’t much appreciate.

He doesn’t bother keeping his laugh to himself.

“No offense, ma’am.  But you’re about a month too late for any kind of shovel talk in regards to me and him.”  He gives her a less than polite smile but keeps his voice genuine.  “Claudia cornered me the day after Peter and I shared our first kiss.  And he may be softer than he thinks he is.  But he’s also a lot tougher than you give him credit for.  Have a nice day, ma’am.”

He shows himself out, nodding at Peter’s older brother Garrett as they pass each other in the hallway, and hops into the backseat of Claudia’s jeep about half a second before she puts it into gear and takes off down the Hale’s driveway in a spray of gravel.

He waits until they hit the pavement of the highway and Claudia’s grumbles of angry Polish swearing have died down a bit before he leans forward between the front seats.

“Is she always so…”

“Asinine?” Peter drawls.

“Stuck up?” Claudia asks.

“Bossy,” Noah finishes.  “I mean.  I get that she’s your sister and she’s got kids your age and shit but, really.  What right does she have to talk to you like that?  To act like she’s got any real say in the rest of your life.”

Peter and Claudia share a look — one of the ones that make Noah realize just how much he doesn’t know them, how much time they’ve had together that he’s had no part in, how much they’ve been through that he’ll never even scratch the surface of even if they stay friends from now until they die — and Peter sighs.

“Your call,” Claudia says.

“I know.  She’ll murder me if she finds out.”

Claudia hums.  “Only a little.  Besides, why do you care?”

“Because I have to live with her at least until the end of summer.  And come back for breaks.  And I don’t want her to take it out on Laura or Derek.  I already know she’s going to be insufferable when she realizes I’m leaving for college in a couple weeks.”

“All fair points.”  Claudia tilts her head towards Noah.  “Hey do you wanna head back to town or into the hills?”

“Hills,” he says without even needing to think about it.  “I got the next couple days off from the garage and I’m pretty sure my dad’s gonna be home.  So I’ll take all the fun I can get tonight.”  Claudia and Peter make sympathetic noises and Peter reaches back to hold Noah’s hand for a few minutes as Claudia turns off the highway and heads for the hills.

The drive is as beautiful and relaxing as always and he lets his mind drift a little as they make their way into the hills and towards one of the many hiding places Claudia and Peter have shown him.  Should he bring it up, he wonders as the road twists and turns.  Should he tell them what he knows?  Should he just hold on to his own secrets a little longer?  He’s only here for a few more weeks, after all, and he has no idea if he’s ever coming back again.

In the end he doesn’t mention it or ask what they were talking about.  He simply sits on the blanket Claudia tosses in front of the jeep and watches the sun set and the stars blink into sight with Claudia pressed against one shoulder and Peter tucked against his other side and thinks about how much he almost wishes that this moment would last forever.

—

NOW

“Hey, Isaac?”

“Yeah?”

“Come here.”

It only takes Isaac a few seconds to poke his head into the office and then flop into the armchair in the corner when Noah gestures to it.  Sometimes it’s hard to believe that this is the same kid he brought into the house a few years ago.  The same kid Stiles used to drag home, covered in bruises that he refused to explain the cause of.  The same kid that Noah had spent a year gaining the trust of before finally getting him to talk about what his father was doing to him.  The same kid that had spent half that year staring at Noah cautiously, waiting for him to prove he was just as bad as every other adult Isaac had dealt with.

“What’s up?”

Isaac is sprawled comfortably in the chair, not an ounce of worry in his body as he waits for Noah.

“You still want to do lacrosse this year?  Or you thinking of doing cross country with Stiles and Vernon?”

Isaac bites his thumbnail as he thinks about it, one of the few nervous habits leftover from that overly cautious boy.

“Do you think I could do both?  I know it’ll be a lot of work near the end of cross country and beginning of lacrosse but I kinda want to try both.  See which one I want to stick with next year?”

“You sure?  It’s a lot to take on.  You know the rules about your grades and attendance.”

“I know.  I just.  I like them both, ya know?  I figure next year I’ll probably pick one of them.  But.  Is it too much?  Is it okay?”

He chuckles softly.  “Yeah, kiddo.  It’s fine.  I just wanted to know what we needed to get you signed up for since I know cross country sign up is in a few weeks.”  Isaac lets out a relieved huff and sinks into the armchair.

“Oh.”

“Just make sure to let Peter or me know if it’s too much, okay?”

“Will do.”

“Good.  I’ll make sure to get you signed up.”  He looks at the calendar on his desk and the pile of papers next to it.  “If you see Derek tell him he needs to talk to Peter about basketball.  And if you see either of the girls tell them to let me know if they need me to get them signed up for anything or if their parents are doing it, okay?”

Isaac nods and then when Noah waves him away he hops out of the chair and goes back to whatever he had been up to before Noah called him into his office.  Probably plotting with Stiles to take over the world starting with Beacon Hills High School or something.

He loves his kids, each and every one of them.  Even the ones he’s not actually legally the guardian of and if that means he has to arrange schedules and car pools and meals after practices for nearly a dozen teenagers who are all participating in far more extracurriculars than he ever imagined possible and their parents?  Well then that’s what he’ll do.

He’s halfway through writing up a tentative plan for the last few weeks of summer and reminding himself to call the girls’ parents later when he hears the door across the hall to Peter’s office open.  He looks up through his own doorway and watches as Peter shuffles out of his office, rubbing tiredly at his face.  He would call out Peter for his obvious late afternoon nap if it wasn’t for the fact that along with a brilliant shade of exhaustion he’s wearing a three-day-old scruff of a beard.

“I was going to send in the calvary soon if you didn’t show your face,” Noah says.  

Peter blinks a few times and then narrows his eyes at Noah before flipping him off and wandering down the hallway.  Noah listens to him making himself some coffee and is nice enough not to mention that Peter drank the last of his special blend two weeks ago and hadn’t had time to replace it yet so whatever concoction he’s brewing for himself isn’t going to do much for him.  

There’s a muffled curse from the kitchen and he grins.  Looks like Peter realized it all by himself.

“We’re going to need to do some seriously expensive back-to-school shopping this year,” Peter grumbles from the doorway.  “Between our three ruffians, the horde of miscreants they call friends, their collective schedules, our jobs, and this town as a whole?  I don’t know that there is enough caffeine on this half of the world to help us.  Not to mention the actual school supplies we need.”

“Stiles does not get any of the coffee.  I don’t care what he says or which of the others he sends to plead his case.”

“Oh I wholeheartedly agree.  I’m exhausted, not an idiot.”  Peter yawns hard enough his jaw cracks.  He rubs at the scruff on his face with a frown.  “He also doesn’t need any more notebooks no matter what he tells you, by the way.  How long was I out?”

“About five hours.  Four if all the noise I was hearing was you waking up a lot.”  Peter makes a noncommittal sound.  It’s a sound that means it was even less than four hours and he wants to scold Peter because Peter needs the rest.  But he knows it’s not Peter’s fault, not really.

You can’t control your nightmares after all and considering what all Peter has dealt with this week it would be more surprising if he didn’t have a nightmare or two.  Noah gestures to the armchair but Peter shakes his head.

“Anything you want to share with the class?” Noah asks after a minute or two of watching Peter pace around his office like a wolf in a cage.  “Do I need to grab your leash or something for you?  Take you on a little walkie?”

“You’re an asshole,” Peter grumbles.  But he collapses into the armchair in the corner with an exhausted sigh.

“I am.  That’s part of why you like me so much.”  Noah makes a few more notes and gives Peter a pointed look.  “Now go back to sleep.  I’ll wake you if they get too bad, okay?”

“My protector,” Peter slurs as he shifts around and makes himself comfortable.  He’s asleep before Noah even looks up again.

He gives the kids money to order whatever they want for dinner when Derek pokes his head in later that night.  Derek brings him a few slices of pizza and the comforter from his and Peter’s bed about an hour later and hands them off with a smile.  He points at the door and Noah shakes his head.  Whatever noises the kids all make will just remind Peter that they’re here, that they’re okay, that they’re all safe.  Peter included.

Peter jerks awake when Noah drapes the comforter over him but falls back asleep almost immediately when he realizes who’s there.  That it’s Noah crouched next to the chair.  It’s Noah tucking the blanket tight around him.  It’s Noah running a hand through his hair.  Peter turns his head and nuzzles against Noah’s wrist, pressing a kiss to the skin and nipping gently at his pulse.

Noah kisses Peter’s temple.  “Sleep,” he whispers.  “I’ve got it all handled.”

—

THEN

He doesn’t really want to go back to school, doesn’t want to leave Peter and Claudia, doesn’t want to get back to all the learning and schedules and classes.  But he’s also got that feeling in his chest that he needs to go.  Needs to move.  Needs to put Beacon Hills in his rear view mirror once and for all.

Part of it, he’s sure, is the fact that his dad’s been home more often than not the last week and he’s lucky enough to have the bruises to prove it.  He had thought, once upon a time, that getting the hell out of that house would help things.  It hasn’t really made it any worse.  But it hasn’t really helped either.  Which is why, even with Peter busy on some family errand of some kind, Noah does his best to find reasons to stay out of the house.

Today’s reason is a picnic with Claudia in a town a couple hours outside of Beacon Hills.

They’re halfway through their lunch, crowded close together under the little gazebo in the park watching the rain fall around them, when Claudia leans heavily against his shoulder and says, “I’m dating Peter’s brother.”

Once Noah finishes coughing up the bite of sandwich that had gone down the wrong side of his throat he turns to look at Claudia.  To the closest thing to a best friend he’s had in years, probably since the last time she was his best friend.

“Okay,” he says after a minute or two of processing that statement.  “Is this a bad thing?”

“Talia’s gonna fucking hate it when she finds out.  Peter’s probably going to have a small stroke of some kind when he finds out.  My parents sure as hell aren’t going to be happy when they find out.  Not to mention what the rest of the town is going to say.”

“So.  No one knows yet?”

“No.  Just me and Garrett.  And now you.”

“Are you happy?”

“So far.  We’ve only gone out on a few dates.  But.  Yeah.”  Claudia glances at him and then looks out to the rain, body tense like she’s waiting for him to scold her or something.

“As long as you two are happy then I’m happy for you.  As for the rest of them?  If they aren’t happy for you they can kiss your ass and go to hell as far as I’m concerned.”  Claudia whips her head around and gives him a surprised stare and it actually hurts a little that she thinks he wouldn’t support her in this.  They might not have been bosom buddies all these years but he didn’t think their connection was so shaky.  “If any of them gives you trouble about it when you do tell them, even Peter, I’ll kick their ass if you need me to.  Though you could probably do it all yourself,” he adds just to see that grin of hers slip onto her face for a moment.

“Seriously?  Even Peter?”

“I don’t know why he wouldn’t be okay with it.  But yeah.  Even Peter.  He, out of anyone as far as I’m concerned, should be the least of your worries.  But I know that he gets so wrapped up in things sometimes he forgets to be, you know, the decent person he genuinely can be.”

Claudia laughs and sags against his side and he shuffles them a bit so he can wrap his arm around her shoulder and pull her close.

“It’s just, well.  It’s hard to explain I guess.  You know how Talia is.”

“Yeah.  I still don’t get what her issue is sometimes.  I mean I get the whole older sibling thing.  But Garrett is only a couple years younger than her and he doesn’t get all super overprotective about what Peter gets up to.  Not to the extreme she does.”

“It’s…”  Claudia sighs.  “It’s complicated.  And not really my story to tell I suppose.  I might have a say in it, some day.  If Garrett and I stay together.  But right now?”  She gives him an apologetic smile.  “Not so much.”

“Fair enough.  I get complicated.”

They finish their picnic in the rain with a run down the street to the drugstore for some candy to eat on the drive back to Beacon Hills.  A drive that is filled with laughter and what feels like a play-by-play of all three dates Claudia and Garrett have gone on.  Considering all the times he — and probably Peter as well now that he thinks about it — has told her stories of his own dates this summer it’s only fair.

Though he would happily listen to her date stories even if she hadn’t already listened to his.  He would listen to just about anything she tells him.  Honestly there’s a part of him that’s just a little bit in love with Claudia Gajos and he’s pretty sure that if he had met just her that morning instead of her and Peter both, she would be talking about their dates.  All the stuff that the two of them have packed in over the summer.

Maybe they’re together in a different universe.  He thinks about it a little bit when he drops her off at home and waits for her to unlock her door.  It’s nice to imagine, to dream about a little.  But he can’t imagine this summer without Peter.

Even if he and Peter are nearly as complicated as Claudia and Garrett are.

Peter makes a comment the next day — while the two of them are waiting for Claudia so they can go downtown to the movie theater and catch the double show that afternoon — about knowing Claudia is hiding something from him but not knowing what it is.  He gives Noah such a searching look that, for a moment, Noah swears Peter is reading his mind or something.  That if Peter looks at him much longer he’ll be able to pick apart every last thought running through Noah’s head.  Which is only terrifying because of how much he thinks about Peter these days.

Noah just shrugs eventually and tells Peter that they both know Claudia will tell them whatever it is when she’s ready to and not a moment sooner.  The look Peter gives him makes him wonder if Peter knows that Claudia already told him.  He wouldn’t be surprised.  Peter notices a lot of things that other people never quite seem to.

Claudia hooks her arms over both of their necks and drags them a few steps before either of them manage to react to her.

Peter glares at her and Noah chuckles; sometimes Peter doesn’t notice things that are right in front of him.  Or behind him in this case.

—

NOW

There’s a pile of paperwork on his desk that doesn’t seem to be getting any smaller despite the fact he’s been working on it for hours.  It’s like one of those dreams from his school days where no matter how hard he tries the work keeps multiplying the second he looks away from it and he’s afraid that at any moment he’s going to realize that he’s not actually wearing his uniform and is, in fact, sitting in the chair behind his desk at work completely naked.

“Hey, Noah?”

“I’m wearing pants,” he blurts out, mind still stuck on the maybe a dream scenario in front of him.

“Um.”  Derek blinks at him a few times.  “Me too?”

“Shit.  Sorry, Kiddo.  It’s been a long couple nights.”

Derek nods.  “Yeah.  About that.  Were you going to be home tonight?  Or do you have to head out again?”

“Tell your uncle I’ll be home for dinner.”  Noah rubs at his face a few times, exhaustion settling in.  “And that I’ll probably be crashing into bed about five minutes after I eat.”  He sees movement past Derek and makes a decision.  “Actually hold that thought.  Hey, Parrish.  Come here.”

His newest deputy slips past Derek into his office.

“What’s up, Sheriff?”

“I know it’s a lot to ask.  But would you be willing to stay a couple hours for me today?  And I’ll cover for you later this week?  I’m just absolutely beat.”

“Actually.  I was going to ask if I could cut out early on Friday.  I had some family stuff pop up and leaving town Friday afternoon would save me some headaches over the weekend.”

“That works for me.  You’re a lifesaver, Parrish.”  He takes another look at his desk and barely holds back a yawn.  “Hey, Kiddo?”

“Yeah?” Derek asks.

“Would you be up for sticking around maybe a half hour or so while I finish what I can’t put off?”

“That tired?”

Noah nods.  “Yeah.  I’m not about to wrap myself around a tree just because I’m too exhausted to see straight.”

“Pretty sure you have better reflexes than that,” Derek teases.  “But yeah I can give you a ride home.”

“Go on then.  Keep Parrish company while he files some papers or something.”  Derek flushes a little when Jordan grins at him and gestures for Derek to follow him back to his desk.  Noah gives Derek a wink before he leaves Noah’s office and, somehow, he flushes even more.

He makes a mental note to ask Peter later if he knows about Derek’s little crush on Deputy Parrish.  It will be a good ace up his sleeve in terms of distracting Peter.  Because he knows that Peter will want an update of what’s been keeping him out so late the last few days and, honestly, Noah’s not sure he’s feeling up to giving one.  Not without another eight to fifteen hours of sleep under his belt and a couple good meals in him.

Once upon a time — forever ago it feels some days — even the idea of eating after he had dealt with things seemed damn near impossible.  Now there’s days that as long as the kids aren’t around he and Peter discuss things over dinner.  He’s not sure if it’s reassuring that he’s gotten used to it.  Or if it’s just another layer of bullshit and cynicism that he’s painted over the parts of himself that hate the responsibility and hate the lengths he sometimes has to go to so he can uphold his promises and oaths.

The pile of paperwork on his desk doesn’t seem that much smaller a half an hour later but the words on the papers are all starting to blur together so he calls it a day and sticks whatever is left into his desk and locks the drawer.  He almost falls asleep three times during the twenty minute drive back to the house and does his best to ignore Derek’s concerned glances.

“I’m okay, son,” he says softly as Derek pulls off the highway and onto the gravel drive up to the house.  “I promise.  I’m just beat.”

“Is it bad?”

“Not going to lie.  It might be.  But for right now it’s a problem for Peter and I to sort out, okay?  I know you’re going to be eighteen soon and you’re starting senior year and all that.  But for now just leave it to us, okay?”

“Okay.  I’ll try to keep the others from being too nosy.”

“I’m going to hold you to that when Stiles and Lydia start getting that look in their eyes.”

Derek rolls his eyes but he nods his agreement just the same.  Which is good.  Because Noah had actually been wondering how he and Peter were going to be able to keep the kids occupied if this whole thing blew up in their faces and rolled into town despite all his hard work.

He’s getting more of a feeling that it’s less ‘if’ it happens and more a matter of ‘when’ it does.

He doesn’t bring it up until he and Peter are getting ready for bed.  Peter raises his eyebrow in question when Noah leans against the bathroom sink as Peter is brushing his teeth.

“Don’t start the argument about my healing being enough to take care of my teeth again, Noah.  I don’t like waking up with morning breath.”

He chuckles and shakes his head.  They both know it’s an argument they’ll have until the day one of them dies if for no other reason than to have something to argue about.

“No.  Two things.”

“Go on.”

“One: I don’t know for sure if what I’ve been working on has actually taken care of things the way we wanted or if it’s going to come back and bite us in the ass in the end.”

Peter finishes brushing and rinses his face off, meeting Noah’s eyes in the mirror.

“Okay.  We’ll deal with it when, or if, it comes to us.  Like everything else over the years.”  Noah doesn’t reply, simply nods, and Peter’s gaze softens.  “Noah?  Sweetheart?”

“I don’t like the idea of anything coming to us.  I don’t like things getting that close.”

“I know.  But if it does.  We’ll handle it.  There’s nothing we can’t handle.  We’ve proved it time and again.”

Noah drapes himself against Peter’s back and hooks his chin over Peter’s shoulder, smiling at him in the mirror.

“I know.”

“So,” Peter prompts as he tilts his head to the side and taps Noah’s temple with his own.  “What’s the second thing?”

“Derek has a crush on Jordan.”

Peter blinks a few times as he processes it.

“Jor- Jordan?  Parrish?  Your deputy?”

“Mhmm.”  He kisses Peter’s cheek.  “Should have seen him.  All blushing and adorable.  Kind of reminded me of you at that age.”

“Oh, please.  I was not some blushing teen just because a cute boy talked to me.”

“You thought I was cute?  Aww,” Noah coos.  “So then why were you always blushing when you talked to me?”

Peter pulls away with a groan and lets Noah scramble to catch himself against the sink.  “I’m going to bed.”

—

THEN

The silence afterwards is always the worst in his opinion.  After the ringing in his ears dies off.  After the heavy panting smooths into steady breaths.  After the echoing shouts have given way to the silence.  

When the silence sinks down to his bones he can finally dare to move.  That’s when he carefully stands, quietly slips away, and licks his wounds in peace as far from his dad as he can get.

He can feel the burn in his shoulder and chest.  He can feel the sluggish wetness spreading across his shirt.  He can feel the glass under his fingers, biting and drawing little pinpricks of blood as he stares down at the floor and listens to the silence surrounding them.

His mom makes an aborted movement on the couch where she had fallen when Noah stepped in front of her to take the blow.  His dad’s head snaps to the side and she goes still.  A frightened animal freezing under the heavy gaze of a predator.

He can’t hear his mom’s breathing but he can see the way her chest rises and falls rapidly.  A strange counterpoint to the way his own heart and breathing seems deep and steady.  A calm washing over him that he’s never felt before.  A calm that’s nothing of the sort.  His heart is beating steadily but his nerves are singing.  His breaths are deep but his bones grind and ache.  His gaze flickers around the room, quick and sure, but his mind is running a million ways at once.

He rises to his full height despite the way his shoulder screams in pain and his wrist twinges and his fingers pulse.

The glass crunches loudly under his sneakers as he turns, breaking the fragile silence smothering the room, smothering him, and his dad’s head snaps back, eyes boring into Noah’s, gaze burning.

Noah stares back.

“You got something to say?”

It takes Noah a moment of charged silence filling the air to realize the words had come from him, that he was the one who spoke.  His dad always said he wasn’t raising a pansy, after all.  Wasn’t raising his boy to be a piece of prey dangling from the jaws of a wolf.

Noah just never really understood what that meant.  Not in the soul deep, center of his very being way that he does in this moment.

“You wanna repeat that, boy?”

Noah doesn’t look at his mom, doesn’t look at the way she takes the moment of distraction to slip out of the room and, if she has half the brain he knows she does, out of the house entirely.

He can feel his shirt sticking to his skin.  Can feel the blood making his fingers slick, hands dangling loosely at his sides.  He grinds his heel and hears as much as feels the way the glass crunches and cracks under his weight.

Each crack and crunch as he shifts his weight and stares into his dad’s eyes is echoed in his chest.

“Sure.  You got something to say?”

He hears the impact as much as he feels it and tastes the blood in his mouth before he even manages to blink.

“Oh I got a lot to say to you.  I just don’t know where I want to start.”  

His dad takes a threatening step towards him, hand raised, and Noah crunches more glass under his heel.  His sneakers are going to be shot by the time he gets out of here but he doesn’t really care because each time he does it something in his dad’s eyes gets a little less wild and a little more calculating.  Every deliberate crunch and crackle as they hold each other’s gaze makes his dad realize that Noah isn’t just easy prey.

That his dad isn’t the predator anymore.  Or, at least, he’s not the only one.

He just barely hears the back door open and shut over the roar of blood in his veins as he and his dad stare each other down.  Hopefully it means his mom finally made a choice.

“Never known you to hold your tongue.  Why start now?”

He shouldn’t goad his dad, shouldn’t push when he’s already pushed so far.  

But.  

He’s already pushed so far.  

They both knew, somewhere deep inside themselves, that this was it.  This was his last summer under this roof, one way or another.  This was most likely the last months and weeks and days they’d see each other while they were both alive and kicking.

“I’m not wasting anymore words on the likes of you.”  It doesn’t even sting the way he’s sure his dad wants it to.  The glass embedded in his shoulder stings a hell of a lot more than any mere words could.  “Get the hell out of my house and don’t show your face around here again.  Or so help me…”

“Don’t worry.  You won’t see me again.”

Noah turns on his heel, glass crunching loudly as he strides out of the living room head held high.  He stuffs what little he’s brought with him back into his duffel bag, takes a cursory glance around his childhood bedroom as he pulls a sweatshirt over his head, and leaves the house without looking back.

He stops at the station downtown.  Not to report a damn thing about what happened.  He never has before.  Why start now, right?  He stops because he had promised Deputy Mills he would tell her goodbye before he left at the end of summer.

She fusses over his hands, fusses over the bruise already forming on his cheek, and listens to him with a worried look on her face when he tells her that he thinks his mom might have finally decided to leave his dad for good and would she look out for his mom while he’s back at school?  He doesn’t tell her about the glass in his shoulder or how his wrist already aches in a way he knows means it’s sprained.  He doesn’t tell her about the broken coffee table any more than he’s ever told her about the broken promises from his dad.

He also doesn’t answer when she asks if he’s going to stop by and see his friends before he leaves.  They both know he’s not.  He didn’t promise them a goodbye visit after all.  It’s a technicality that he already feels like crap for exploiting.  But he’s not about to bring this shit to either of their doorsteps.  No matter how much he knows they would both want him to.

“Keep an eye on them, too, would you?  Peter’s going to be in college soon so it’ll mostly be Claudia.  But I think we both know she’s enough of a handful on her own.”

Deputy Mills holds his gaze for a few seconds before nodding.  “I will.”

“Thanks.”

“Keep an eye on yourself, okay?  Asking you to stay out of trouble is a lost cause, I know.  But.  Take care, yeah?”

“I will.”

She pulls him into a gentle hug like she knows he’s hurt more than she can see and she needs to be careful even if she doesn’t know what’s happened and for just a moment he wavers and almost breaks.  Almost gives in to the concern in her eyes and the warmth of her smile.  Then he shifts and feels the glass in the heel of his shoe scrape against the linoleum tiles and he pulls back.

“Goodbye, Jody.”

“Goodbye, Noah.”

—

NOW

Most of the time Noah enjoys being right.  Especially being right when Peter is wrong.  That’s a particular turn of events that doesn’t happen nearly as much as he, personally, feels like it should.  He finds less satisfaction in being right when he and Peter are both being pinned against trees deep in the Preserve by what he can only really describe as some sort of really messed up love-child conceived during a threeway between a goblin, pixie, and dryad.

“Any bright ideas?”  He doesn’t mean to sound quite so snippy.  But it’s a little hard to sound any other way with some kind of root-like vine squeezing him like he’s a stress ball that it wants to pop.

“I’m thinking,” Peter growls back.

“Maybe think a little faster.  Or harder.”

“We could always-“

“No.  I don’t want to bring the kids into this.”

“Might not have a choice.”

The root-vines tighten against him and he can hear the tree he’s pinned to creaking.  If they don’t hurry this up a little he’s going to go from escaping this with a few bruises to barely getting away with a busted rib cage.

“If it involves the kids.”  He grunts in pain.  “We both know that’s not a choice.”

“Overprotective worrywart,” Peter grits out as his own set of vining roots tightens.

“Damn straight.  Now.  Think.”

He hears the soft crunching of someone approaching.  Someone who is trying to be quiet but doesn’t have much experience moving through the underbrush and dried leaves of the Preserve which, thankfully, rules out any of their kids since most of them practically grew up playing in some part of the Preserve or another.  He runs through his mental list of people who would have any reason to be this far into the Preserve and comes up empty.  Honestly he and Peter and the kids are really the only ones.

A few more sounds and he really wishes he could see Peter’s face right now, see what thoughts he might be having about this mystery person.  Peter’s always been the better tracker, after all.

“Hey, uh.  You guys need help?”

He jerks at the familiar voice and stares down as Jordan slips around the tree he’s pinned to and glances around warily.

“Is that Deputy Parrish?”

“Yeah.  It is.  What the hell you doing out here, son?”

“I think right now that’s probably less important than getting you two down.”

Noah opens his mouth to argue — he thinks finding out why his newest deputy is miles into the back end of the Preserve is quite important personally — and lets out a groan as the roots tighten so hard he can feel his ribs creaking under the pressure.

“Yeah.”

Jordan slips behind the tree Noah is pinned to and before he can protest that Peter should be let down first the root-vines holding him shudder and tighten to the point he lets out a whimper and then he’s dropping to the ground.  He pushes himself up as Jordan hurries past him, taking stock of his various bumps and bruises and aches, and then he hears Peter hit the ground with a groan.  Seconds later Peter is at his side, hands roaming Noah’s body and checking for injuries.

“I’m fine,” he murmurs, catching Peter’s hands and pressing a kiss to the back of his left one.  Peter’s eyes flash at Noah and he smiles.  “Promise.”

“We need to find whatever that thing was and kill it,” Peter says, gaze darting to the trees around them.  “It can’t be allowed to make it any closer to town.”

Jordan stops poking at the vine-roots near the tree Peter had been pinned to and stands, brushing his hands on his jeans nervously.  He waits for Jordan to say something but when all he does is shift back and forth a few times, gaze darting between Peter and Noah, he sighs.  Jordan’s gaze lands on him.

“Spit it out, Parrish,” he says in his no-nonsense Sheriff voice.

“I killed it.”

Peter goes still and turns to look over his shoulder.  “Pardon?”

“I, uh.  I killed it?”  Jordan points back the way he came.  “Like.  Half mile or so that way.  Then I followed the weird vine things that were coming out of its arms to you guys.”

“How?  How did you kill it?”

Jordan shrugs.  “Stabbed it in the back, about where I figured its heart should be.  Then I figured once I saw where the vines led I would go back and set it on fire to make sure it stayed dead.  I mean,” he adds when Noah and Peter just stare at him.  “That’s what you usually do with anything with dryad blood in it, right?  I mean I’ve never actually encountered one myself and my information is a bit dated.  But… yeah.”

“Noah?”

He shakes his head when Peter looks at him.  He had no idea that Jordan knew anything about the supernatural world let alone the proper way to kill something supernatural.  Everything about Jordan’s background check had come back clean and normal.  Just a deputy looking for a place to put down roots.

Jordan shifts a little bit and brushes his hands on his pants again, eyes drifting from where Noah and Peter are standing off to the side and back again a few times while Noah turns this new information over in his head.  He’s not twitchy-nervous the way Stiles gets when he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t.  Or wide-eyed nervous like Isaac trying to sneak an extra helping of dessert.  He’s just.  Nervous.  Nervous like sixteen-year-old Derek was standing in the doorway that day.  Nervous like twenty-one-year-old Noah was the first time he asked a guy out on a real date.  Nervous like thirty-year-old Peter was when he opened his eyes and saw Noah sitting in that chair beside the bed.

Nervous the way you are when you lay a part of yourself bare for the world to see and hope that it doesn’t come back to bite you squarely in the ass.  That it isn’t the last mistake you’ll ever make in life.  That you’re not putting your trust in the wrong place, the wrong person.

“Peter?”  Noah raises his eyebrows in question, tilting his head in the direction Jordan had said he came from.

“He’s right,” Peter says.  “That’s the way to permanently put down something with dryad blood.”  Peter holds his gaze for a few seconds and then drops his head back and groans at the sky dramatically.  “I don’t like fire, Noah.”

“Yeah.  I know.  Which is why we are following Jordan back to the body or whatever is left of it and then you are going with Jordan to wherever he parked his car and bringing him home while I take care of it.”

“Noah.”

“I’ll meet you at home when it’s done,” he says decisively before Peter can start laying out all his reasons why that is not a good idea.

He knows that Peter is fighting his instincts to not leave Noah alone with something potentially dangerous and his instincts not to be near anything that is on fire.  He also already knows which instinct will win.  If only because it lines up with his need to get some time alone with Jordan and make sure that he is not a threat to their home, their family, their territory, their pack.

“Call Derek.  Stay on the phone with him.” 

He rolls his eyes and shakes his head with a put upon sigh but when they make it back to the lumpy pile of vaguely goblin-shaped wood he dutifully pulls out his phone.  When Derek answers he puts him on speaker while Peter and Jordan continue on.  He wonders, as he collects some dry kindling and loose brush, what Jordan was doing out here in the first place.  But he doesn’t think too hard on it; Peter will figure that part out eventually.

When the creature is nothing but a handful of ash piles buried around the Preserve, Noah drags himself home.  Derek is waiting for him outside and he’s pretty sure the kid takes way too much pleasure in tossing him a bar of soap and turning the hose on him before he can even pull off his shirt.

After the coldest shower he’s had in his life — matched only by all the other times he’s had to do this very thing over the years — where he spends far too long listening to Derek laughing as he tries to peel his soaking wet clothes off enough to wash the worst of the smoke smell off of himself, Noah trudges up the porch steps.  Stiles is there waiting with a towel and a curious look on his face.

“What was it?  Where did it come from?  What did it look like?”  Stiles crowds close and grins at him.  “Did you seriously get pinned to a tree?  Are you okay?”  He pokes at Noah’s chest a few times.  “No broken bones?  Busted ribs?  Punctured lungs?”

Noah gives Derek a look as he dries off.

“I did not give him caffeine,” Derek says, holding his hands up.  “That would be your husband.”

Noah rolls that thought around as he finishes drying off while Stiles launches about twenty-two more questions at him and continues to poke and prod.

“Peter!” he finally yells when Stiles lifts up his arm and jams his finger into Noah’s armpit for some ungodly reason.

They’ve talked about this.  Peter knows Noah’s stance on Stiles and caffeine of any form.

“In my office with Jordan, darling,” Peter calls back, voice sickeningly sweet.  “Do try to not drip on the floor.”

“Good luck,” Derek says.  He claps Noah’s shoulder as he passes.  “Uncle Peter’s in a mood.”

—

THEN

He’s been back on campus for two weeks — turns out that in the end crashing on Jay’s couch until his own dorm room was available wasn’t as bad as he thought it might be — and back in classes for three days and he has run into Chris Argent seventeen times.  He’s not full enough of himself to assume it’s entirely intentional.  But he’s not unaware of his surroundings enough to assume it’s entirely coincidental.  They share a grand total of one class together: a typically year two class that Noah hadn’t had time for last year and that Chris surprisingly has the prerequisites for despite being in his first year at college.

Needless to say that when he runs into Chris for the eighteenth time on his fourth day of classes, literally this time around, and listens to Chris cursing softly as he stares down at Noah’s spilled coffee he decides that now is the time to do something about this whole thing.  Either Chris is stalking him or the world has one hell of a strange sense of humor and Noah is tired of trying to figure out which it is.

“Well,” Noah laughs when Chris looks up and sees who he just ran into.  “Looks like the world is trying to tell us something.”

Chris raises his eyebrows and gives Noah a searching look.  He’s not sure what Chris is looking for but after a moment he visibly relaxes and gives Noah a bright smile.

“Oh?  What would that be?”

“Clearly we’re meant to be together.”

Chris laughs at that, bright and clear, and then glances past Noah and lets out another round of soft curses.

“I’m going to be late to class.  Sorry.  I guess we’ll have to talk about the world telling us things later.”  Chris smiles at him and then hurries down the sidewalk.

If nothing else he’s determined to get Chris to buy him a coffee to make up for the one that’s spilled at his feet.

A replacement coffee turns into lunch and an afternoon spent walking around campus and then dinner and Chris following Noah back to his dorm room and the two of them falling into bed together.

“I hope you know,” Chris says, voice muffled as he pulls his shirt over his head and drops down onto the edge of Noah’s bed.

“Know what?” he asks when Chris doesn’t finish the thought, apparently distracted by… oh.  Noah rolls onto his back and meets Chris’ gaze, almost daring him to ask about the fresh scar just under his collarbone.  Chris blinks and the tension is gone.

Noah really needs to stop meeting people that can read him despite his masks and that make him want to curl up with his head in their laps and tell them every bad thing that’s ever happened to him.

“That I don’t normally put out on a first date.”  

There’s a twinkle in Chris’ blue eyes that makes Noah’s stomach twist uncomfortably as his mind tries to bring up another pair of blue eyes despite how much he really, really wishes it wouldn’t.  It’s bad enough those eyes seem to rule his dreams.  The last thing he needs is to be seeing them when he’s awake.

“If you really think about it we had at least two dates today,” Noah says just as Chris is opening his mouth to, no doubt, ask if Noah is okay.  “Three if you count the coffee we started out with this morning.”

“Oh, well.  I stand corrected.”  Chris laughs, eyes bright and warm, and Noah grabs onto Chris’ shirt and drags him down for a kiss.

Date four is pizza and breadsticks delivered from the place down the block when they finally manage to drag themselves out of bed sometime just before the place closes for the night.

Dates five through fifteen are a series of coffees, donuts, sandwiches, and heavy making out in the back corners of the library aisle over the next couple of weeks and it’s not until he’s sprawled on Jay’s couch two months into the school year that he even notices the time passing.

“So are you and Argent dating or something?”

He freezes with his beer bottle halfway to his lips and turns to give Jay a bewildered look.

“What?”

Jay shrugs.  “Just curious.  I mean.  The last time I saw or heard about you with the same person this much was, well, never.”  Jay winks at him.  “Have you finally stopped your bed jumping ways my friend?”

“No?”

“Why do you sound so unsure of that?  Not like Argent’s been sleeping around as far as I know.”

“Not like I would care if he was.”  Noah finishes his beer and sets the bottle on the ground next to the couch.  “We aren’t anything.”

“Does he know that?”

“Look, Jay.  Not everyone is looking for happily ever after in college.  Sure maybe I’ve been with Chris longer than anyone else here but that doesn’t mean anything.  Other than he and I are on the same page with things.”

“Okay,” Jay mumbles.  “I’m just trying to look out for you.”

Noah rolls his eyes and makes some comment that sends Jay on a rant as he sinks down on the couch.  He listens to his friend, nodding at the right places.  He loves Jay, he really does.  But it’s moments like this where he misses how easy things were with Claudia and Peter.  How they cared about him, sure.  But they never over thought it.  Never tried to make mountains out of every little mole hill in his life.

He wakes up curled next to Chris a few days later and buries his face under the pillows.

He just flat out misses Peter and Claudia.  Misses the way they were together over the summer.  Misses them.

“Shit,” he breathes out.  Chris rolls and nuzzles sleepily against Noah’s shoulder.

He wonders how badly Claudia wants to bury him in the woods right now for the way he left and if it would matter at all to her that he’s pretty sure he loves Peter.

—

NOW

“Erica Reyes.”

The girl in question freezes in place, eyes wide and frantically looking for help from her friends.  Help that’s not going to come because they’ve all been on the receiving end of one of his glares and he’s kind of proud to be one of the only things in life so far that they don’t recklessly throw themselves in front of in a valiant attempt to save each other.

“Hey, Papa S.  What’s up?”

Noah crosses his arms and stares her down.  Erica laughs nervously, shifting ever so slightly and tugging at the strap of her book bag where it crosses her chest.

“No.”

“What?”  Erica laughs.  “What do you mean, no?  No, what?”

“No to whatever scheme you and Stiles came up with for this morning that involves Derek’s car keys.  And the gallon of paint that disappeared off the porch last night.”  Noah takes a deep breath.  “And all of Isaac’s shampoo out of the bathroom.”

He’ll give the girl credit.  She manages to hold her ground a lot longer than any of the boys have ever done.  He almost thinks he’s going to have to pull out the big guns and threaten to call Peter, who is already in town at work, when she groans and practically deflates.

“I told them it wasn’t gonna work.”

Erica drops Derek’s car keys into his waiting hand.  Then when he pockets them and sticks his hand out again she growls softly and digs Isaac’s keys — which include an extra set of keys to Derek’s car — out of her bag and smacks them into Noah’s hand.

“The paint?”

“In Stiles’ jeep.”  Stiles grumbles from his place at the kitchen table but doesn’t actually protest when Noah looks over his shoulder and points outside.  Stiles gets up and pouts as he heads to his jeep to grab the paint.

“Isaac’s shampoo?”  She glances around a little, clearly hoping someone else might speak up.  Noah looks back into the kitchen as well.

Vernon meets his gaze for a few seconds and then drops it to the book he has opened on the table.  Isaac looks like he wants to melt into the chair he’s sitting in.  Lydia just raises an eyebrow at him like she can’t believe he would think she has the slightest idea what her friends were up to.  Jackson glances at him a few times before focusing on finishing the bowl of cereal in front of him.  Stiles drops the can of paint on the porch and shuffles back into the house, throwing himself into his chair with a scowl on his face.

“If someone doesn’t tell me I will make sure you are all grounded until after Homecoming.  I don’t care that over half of you don’t live here with me.  You know I can make it happen.”  It’s not an empty threat.  He’s done it before.

“Scott has it.  He’s supposed to slip it into Derek’s bag this morning.  They both have a free period first thing cause he has that work study thing with Dr. Deaton.  He’s supposed to do it then.”

He hadn’t expected Jackson to be the one to break.  But he gives the teen an appreciative smile for being honest and Jackson straightens up a little even as the rest of them glare at him.

“So.  What?  You hide Derek’s keys so he has to get a ride from someone.  Dump paint on him at some point during the day I’m assuming.  Spill Isaac’s shampoo all over Derek’s bag.”  Noah closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose as he connects all the dots and the plan forms in his mind.  “His bag that has his spare set of clothes that he’ll no doubt try to change into after being covered in paint and showering off in the locker room.  So he’ll be stuck in either his underwear or whatever sad, smelly clothes they have in the lost and found that are probably left there from last year.”  There’s a snort of amusement from the table that he suspects is Vernon.  “Ah, hell, kids.  What did Derek do to deserve that on your first day back at school?”

“Um.  Other than trying to pretend he’s some big shot just because he’s a senior and we’re just sophomores and he’s going to be eighteen in a couple months and has his own car and he’s too cool to be seen giving any of us mere peons a ride?  Nothing much.”

Again.  Jackson is not the one he expects to hear from.  Especially talking about getting rides and being peons but as he glances around the kitchen he realizes that Jackson himself isn’t the one who was hurt by whatever Derek did.  Jackson’s just the one deciding to take offense on behalf of his friends.  He can read his kids, even the ones he’s not legally the parent of.  Vernon and Erica share a look with each other and then Jackson that says just as much as Jackson’s spoken words had.  Apparently Derek has been letting his status as the oldest out of the teens get to his head this summer.

“I see.”  Noah thinks about it for a minute while he gestures for the kids to clean up the kitchen and get ready to leave.  “Hey, Isaac.”  He tosses Isaac his keys when he turns around.  “It’s a shame your truck wouldn’t start this morning.  Why don’t you take my truck?  Give Erica and Vernon a ride to school.”  He points to the keys hanging near the back door.  Isaac looks surprised but he grins as he grabs the worn leather keychain and the three of them hurry out the door.

“Dad?”

Noah smiles at Stiles.  “It’s also a shame that you got a ride from Lydia this morning and took your keys with you.  With Peter being in town already I guess I’ll just have to give Derek a ride to school in my cruiser.”

Jackson’s and Stiles’ eyes widen with realization and Lydia hums in approval before she grabs her purse and waltzes towards the front of the house where her car is waiting.

“Come on, boys.  We don’t want to be late for school.”

“You’re amazing,” Stiles says as he gives Noah a crushing hug before chasing after Lydia.

“I see where Stiles gets it from,” Jackson says.  He finishes rinsing his bowl out and sets it on the counter to dry.  “Have a good day, Sheriff.”

Derek rushes downstairs in a panic as Noah is finishing his coffee.  Apparently he can’t find his keys and Isaac already left and he’s going to be late and he can’t be late on his first day of his senior year.

“Relax, kiddo.  You can catch a ride with me,” he says as he rinses out his mug and sets it in the sink.  

He waits until they’re halfway to town and Derek has thanked him for the fifth time to clear his throat.

“No seriously, Uncle Noah.  Thanks.”

“You don’t have to thank me, Derek.  I’m always happy to give my loyal peons a ride when they need it.”  Derek pales and Noah gives him a bright grin.  He doesn’t even need to hear Derek’s heartbeat to know how nervous Derek is feeling now, stomach no doubt dropping as he realizes that Noah knows.  “Even if they are seniors now and almost eighteen and almost an adult and should really be trusted to keep better track of their things.”

“How grounded am I?” Derek asks when they’re a few blocks from the high school.

“Oh.  You’re not grounded.”  Derek shoots him a disbelieving look.  “I think today will be punishment enough.  And you can be thankful that I stopped the rest of them from doing what they wanted to do.”

Noah hits the siren and lights and drives the last two blocks towards the high school with a grin on his face.

“Have a good day, Derek,” he calls out as Derek climbs out of the cruiser with a scowl firmly on his face.  He tosses Derek’s keys to him through the open window and Derek’s scowl deepens.  “Make sure to ask one of the others for a ride home.”

“Thank you, Uncle Noah,” Derek grits out.  “Have a good day at work.”

“Have a great first day, Derek.”  

Noah sees the rest of the kids standing near the school doors and gives them a wave that they all return before turning and heading inside.

His only regret is that Peter isn’t here with him to witness this all in person.  It’s the perfect kind of clever and petty to put that twinkle in his eyes that Noah loves to see.

—

THEN

Noah eyes the box on the corner of his desk warily.  It hadn’t been there when he left for classes this morning and since he doesn’t have a roommate this year, thankfully, he knows exactly who it’s from.  The question is how the hell did Chris get into his locked dorm room?

Option A: Noah left the door unlocked.  Which isn’t even an option because he always locks the door.  He hasn’t left his door unlocked since the day he moved out of his parent’s house regardless of if he was in the room or not.

Option B: Chris copied Noah’s key.  Which isn’t impossible.  Just unlikely and an option Noah doesn’t really want to think too hard on because that’s a little too close to stalker territory than he is comfortable with.  While Chris is intense at times he doesn’t really give off stalker vibes.

Option C: The RA or maintenance or someone with the key to his room let Chris in.  More likely than Chris copying his key, especially considering the fact that Chris spent more of the last few weeks leading up to winter break in Noah’s room than his own on the other side of campus.  But still unlikely considering Noah had to jump through a dozen hoops to get them to unlock his door the one time he forgot his key on his desk not long after the year started.

Which leaves…

Option D: Chris picked the lock.  Entirely possible.  The locks are quite flimsy and the only reason he hadn’t picked it himself that time was because he had nothing on him to pick it with.  Noah doesn’t know if Chris knows how to pick locks for sure but he has a pretty good feeling that he does.

The box is still sitting on the corner of his desk when there’s a knock at his door a couple of hours later.  He lets Chris into his room and flops down into his desk chair.

“What is that and why did you pick the lock on my door to leave it there if you were just going to show up anyway?”

Chris shifts his weight back and forth a few times and for a moment Noah swears it feels like Chris is just going to bolt out the door.  Then he takes a deep breath.

“It’s an apology and I left it because I wasn’t sure if I would be here.”

“Ignoring the fact you said nothing about picking the lock… What the hell does that mean?”  The fact that Chris won’t meet his eyes says a hell of a lot in Noah’s opinion.  Mostly that whatever is going on isn’t Chris’ choice.  “Chris?”

“I’m transferring after winter break.  My dad is relocating the family business and wants me closer to him and my little sister.”  Chris’ gaze won’t quite settle even as he sits down on the edge of the bed and Noah scoots his desk chair close enough to bump their knees together.  “I mentioned that my mom died a few years back, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“I wasn’t even sure I was going to be able to go to college.  Don’t necessarily need a degree to follow in his footsteps and all that.  I don’t want to leave.  I swear I don’t.  But he’s paying for school, at least for now, and if he says I’m transferring… well.  That’s that.”

“So why the apology gift?”

Chris drags his gaze from the carpet and meets Noah’s eyes and all he wants to do is tackle Chris onto the bed and curl around him until he loses that sad look in his eyes.

“I honestly wasn’t sure I’d still be here.  Once my dad makes up his mind he’s pretty good about making things happen.  The way he talked on the phone last night I was expecting to find him sitting in my room when I got back from classes so he could drag me away.” Chris smiles sadly.  “He wasn’t too into the idea of me coming to school here in the first place.”

It all makes sense.  But it still doesn’t really explain things.

“So.  The gift?”

“Was an apology on the chance that I wasn’t here to tell you in person that I was leaving.  We’re not going out or anything but we’ve been with each other enough that it would be kind of a dick move to just vanish without a word.”

“Okay then.”  Noah leans towards the box.  “Should I open it now?”

“Nah.”  Chris grabs his wrist and tugs him out of his chair and onto the bed.  “Open it when I don’t come back.”

When he does open it, two days into winter break, he can’t help but roll his eyes.  Inside is a letter from Chris apologizing — saying pretty much exactly what he had told Noah that day about his dad — and under the letter is a coffee mug that has ‘Buy Me Pizza and Tell Me I’m Pretty’ on the front of it with a keychain tucked inside it that has ‘Sorry I’m Late I Had to Stop For Coffee’ stamped onto a dark leather rectangle.

Two random things that look like they have no reason to be together in the same box yet they basically tell the story of the last three and a half months of his life with Chris around.

He hooks his keys onto his new keychain and wishes that he had something like this from his summer too.  Something more than the glass shards under his skin and the memories of Peter and Claudia rattling around in his head.

—

NOW

Noah has never really been sure he believes in things like God and fate.  He doesn’t really believe that certain people are meant to be in each other’s lives and all that.  He’s never put much stock in soulmates or people who were destined to meet.

But he’s seriously considering rethinking his stance on things.  At least in terms of the fact that there has to be some cosmic someone, somewhere laughing at him right now.

A part of him thinks that if there is a cosmic someone, somewhere, it might be Claudia, troublemaker even from beyond the grave.  He can practically hear her laughter as he hunches down at his desk in his office and gives into that age old childish belief that if he doesn’t see it then it can’t see him.

The ‘it’ in question?  That’s the part where that cosmic being is laughing.  Because Christopher Argent is here in the flesh, in Noah’s station, looking just as attractive as he did the last time Noah saw him.  His office door is open and he can hear Chris laughing at something and it tugs at his heart and warms his gut the same way it did when he was twenty-one.

He is so, so screwed.  He buries his face in his hands with a soft groan.  Peter is going to have a field day with this.  He can already hear Peter’s comments about blue eyes and “a hunter, really, Noah?” and a dozen other little snarky tidbits.

There’s a knock at his door and he debates just ignoring it despite the fact the door is open and it’s obvious he’s sitting behind his desk right this moment.  Maybe he could yell and point at something across the station and launch himself out the window next to his desk and disappear into the Preserve, never to be seen from again except as some fuzzily described cryptid. He could become Beacon Hill’s very own Bigfoot or something.

“Uh.  Sheriff?  Everything okay?”

He takes a deep breath and sits up straight, giving Jordan a polite smile.

“Yeah, Deputy Parrish.  Everything is fine.  Just a little bit of a headache.  What’s up?”

“My brother is here and would like to talk to you.”

Noah blinks a couple times.  Brother.  Chris never mentioned a brother.  He mentioned his dad and his sister and his deceased mom.  But never a brother.

“Your brother?  Well.  Send him in I guess.”

He has enough time to take another deep breath before Chris is striding into his office.  He stands and they shake hands before settling into the chairs on either side of his desk and simply staring at each other for a minute.  Noah has no idea what to do.  He has no precedence for this.  He’s barely ever even bumped into someone he slept with back at college forget meeting up with the man who was part of the closest thing he ever had to a relationship in college.

“I wondered,” Chris says eventually.  “When I saw that the sheriff’s name was Stilinski.”

“Wondered what?”

“If it was you.  Stilinski isn’t exactly a common name.”

“Well.  You don’t have to wonder.  It’s me.”  He gives Chris a tight smile.  This shouldn’t feel so awkward.

Why does this feel so awkward?

“Do you think this is the world’s way of telling us something?”

Oh yeah.  It’s awkward because he’s in love with Peter and Peter is a werewolf and Chris is a hunter and Noah knows that he was more than a little bit in love with Chris all those years ago.

Maybe he still is a little bit in love with him.  At least the Chris he knew then.

“The only thing the world’s telling me is that it’s a cruel bastard,” Noah murmurs.  Chris looks at him curiously.  “What can I do for you, Chris?”

“Well I’m planning on moving here.  Me and my little girl, Allison.  I’m a federally licensed arms dealer so I’ll be bringing some weapons to town and Jordan had said that he knew the sheriff would appreciate a heads up.  So here I am.”

“Jordan.  Your brother.”

Chris’ gaze narrows a little at Noah’s tone.  “My half-brother technically,” he says carefully.  Like he’s worried Noah might snap at him.  “But yes.  Jordan.”

Noah nods.  Okay.  That matches up with what Jordan had told Peter after the dryad incident about having hunter blood in him but not being raised in the life.

“So is he why you chose here?”  He has no idea if Jordan has told Chris about the pack here.  About who is or isn’t in it.  About what sort of things have been going on in town.  About who in town is in the know.  “You picked Beacon Hills because of family?”

“Mostly, yeah.”

“Mostly?”

“Yeah.  A little bit because it’s a good location for business.  Fairly central access to a lot of my contacts and contracts.  But mostly because of family.  Jordan may only be my half-brother but, well…”  Chris huffs softly and rubs the back of his neck.  “Anymore he and Allison are my family.”

“What about your dad and sister?  Did something happen to them?”

“I don’t necessarily agree with some of the choices they’ve made over the years.  Let’s just leave it at that.”

Chris’ tone leaves no room for argument and Noah doesn’t feel like getting into one.

“Understood.”  He might not be up to getting into an argument but that doesn’t mean he’s just going to sit here and let anyone, even Chris, take that tone with him without some sort of retaliation.  “So tell me, Chris.  You got the permits on you?  Got your paperwork filled out and filed properly?  Got something for me to slap in a folder with your name on it here in my office?”

Chris raises his eyebrows.  “Well.  Not right this moment.  I haven’t even looked at houses yet.”

Noah hums and shuffles some of the paperwork on his desk around.

“Well make sure that when you do get an address here in town you get me a copy of your papers.”  He leans back and taps the filing cabinet behind him.  “Standard procedure.  Promise.”

“Standard procedure.”  Chris nods a few times.  “Right.  Well.”  Chris stands and holds out his hand.  “Good to see you, Noah.”

“Likewise.”  He stands and shakes Chris’ hand.  “I’m sure I’ll see you around.”

—

THEN

He’s turned in all his papers.  He’s taken all his final exams.  All that’s left to do is turn his books in and then he’s officially done with this school year.  He’s got two apartments he’s going to see this afternoon because he is not going back to Beacon Hills for the summer and he’s definitely not crashing on Jay’s couch for three months.

He grabs his stack of books so he can drop them off and then grab some lunch before he looks at the first apartment and is reaching for the door just as someone knocks.  He pulls open the door, excuses why he can’t stay and talk on the tip of his tongue, and freezes.

“Claudia?”

“Noah.”

“I… wow.  I was not expecting you.”

She lets out a shaky laugh.  “Obviously.”

“I was on my way out.  But.  Come in.  We’ll talk.”

“Oh.  If you were on your way out I can just come with you?”

“That sounds perfect,” Noah says with a grin.  “I was hoping I wouldn’t have to carry all these by myself.”

Claudia huffs and rolls her eyes but she takes the books Noah hands her.  They don’t say much on the walk to the campus bookstore.  Or on the drive to the diner Noah had picked for lunch.  It’s not like it’s entirely strange to sit quietly with Claudia.  They had done it plenty of times last summer.  But to sit quietly after not talking for almost a year?  The first thing he had expected was for her to tear him a new one for the way he left.  Though it’s not like he had even thought too hard about it considering he hadn’t even known that Claudia knew which dorm he lived in, let alone his room number.

They’re halfway through their lunches when Claudia sets down her sandwich, looks Noah in the eye, and says, “I’m pregnant.”

Once he’s finished choking on his own sandwich Noah leans back in his seat and gives Claudia a look.  

“Run that by me again?”

“I’m pregnant.”  She licks her lips and sighs.  “About four months.  I’m due in September.”

“Garrett’s?”  She nods.  “Have you told him?”  She shakes her head.  He reaches across the table and she immediately takes his hand, nearly crushing his fingers in her grip.  “Okay.”  He takes a deep breath.  “Okay.  So what are we doing?  How are we handling this?”

Claudia wipes at her face with her free hand.

“I don’t know, Noah.  I just.”  She sighs and shakes her head.  “I don’t know.  It’s complicated.  It’s all… very complicated.”

He nods, glancing around to catch their waitress’s eye to signal for the check.

“I bet.”  He sets down enough to cover them and pulls Claudia to her feet, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and tucking her against his side as they leave the diner.  “You guys aren’t even married, which is complicated enough.  Plus Talia always had an issue with you in general.  Not to mention the whole werewolf thing.”

He stumbles when Claudia suddenly stops and stares at him.

“Wait.  Werewolf thing?”

“Yeah.  I know about them.  Don’t worry.  Secret’s safe with me.”  Noah tugs at her shoulders.  “So.  You gonna come check out this apartment with me?  You might have to, like, get a job and chip in but I’m sure the two of us can manage to live together and not kill each other.”

“What?  I just.  You… what?”

“For now at least.  I figure that by the time the baby comes we might want to get a different place since these are both one bedroom apartments.  But don’t think I’m letting you do this alone.  That’s why you came to me, right?  Me.  Not Peter.  Not Garrett.  Not your parents.”

“You don’t have to.  I just.  I just needed to tell someone who I knew wouldn’t judge me or try to tell me how to feel or what to do.”

“Come on.”  Noah tugs at her until she’s back against his side and they’re strolling down the sidewalk.  “We’ll look at a couple places.  If we don’t think they’ll work we can look for something else later.  No matter what you choose to do, Claudia.  I’m here for you.”

Neither apartment they look at will work but they’re lucky because when they stop at the library to look through the newspapers for ads Ms. Miner tells him that she knows someone looking to rent their house.  Just a little two bedroom thing but she knows the owner and she can put in a good word for them because she knows Noah.  Knows the kind of person he is and will vouch for him.

It’s small and a little rundown but it’s perfect and a week later they’re moved in.

Or, well.  He’s moved in and Claudia has unpacked the whopping two bags she brought with her when she left Beacon Hills and they’re curled up together on the one bed that had come with the house — they’ll worry about a second bed and a couch and a tv and all those things later — talking.  About what happened the night he left.  About her and Garrett’s relationship.  About how he knows what he does.  About Talia.  About the baby.  About Peter.

“It’s not that he wouldn’t support me,” she says, flopping down to put her head in Noah’s lap.  “He would.  Peter and Garrett both.  But Peter’s staying on campus this summer and he’s finally out from under Talia’s thumb and Garrett, as much as I love him, would want to keep the peace.  The only way to do that would be to put me under her thumb.  I don’t know if the baby will be human or not.  But I do know that, werewolf or not, I don’t want any child of mine growing up the way Peter did.  The way Laura and little Derek and Cora are growing up.  I get that she needs to be strict, to keep the territory and her family safe and all that.”

“But she’s kind of a horrible person to deal with,” Noah supplies when Claudia trails off.  “Very set in her ways.”

Claudia nods.  “I admit.  I’m not a werewolf so I don’t get it completely.  But I just feel like an Alpha who doesn’t genuinely listen to the opinions and concerns and questions of their pack isn’t that great of an Alpha in the end.”  Claudia sighs.  “I guess I just don’t want her trying to control me and my pregnancy and this baby.  It might be her nephew and her pack but it’s my child.”

“I get it.”  Noah ruffles her hair and smiles down at her.  “It’s your kid.  If you want to go back to Beacon Hills tomorrow I’ll support you.  If you want to never go back again I’ll support you.  If you want to call up Peter or Garrett or your parents right now and tell them I’ll support you.  If you never want them to know I’ll support you.”

“Thank you, Noah,” she whispers.  “I don’t know what I did to deserve you as a friend.”

“Pretty sure you sat down in a booth across from me and dragged me into your shenanigans with your best friend about a year ago and got me to lie to a deputy for you just because you and said best friend smiled at me.”

“And that’s all it took?”

“Apparently.  I mean there was also that short time we were best friends who were determined to rule Beacon Hills when we were grownups.  Face it: you’re stuck with me.”

“Oh no,” Claudia deadpans.  “Whatever shall I do?”

—

NOW

“Peter Hale.”

One time Noah had a dream that started out just like this.  It did not end well.  Oh it was a great dream right up until Peter threatened to rip out Chris’ throat and Chris looked him in the eye and said, “You’re too much of a toothless infant, you wouldn’t even break the skin.”  Then it had devolved into yelling and bloodshed and… a lot of very confusing boners for the next few weeks anytime Peter so much as sighed in irritation.  

He glances from the look of smug superiority on Peter’s face to the stoic acceptance on Chris’ face and braces himself for whatever level of hell is about to be unleashed upon his poor, unsuspecting town.  He’s glad he stopped bracing himself for the hell being unleashed upon his life and own self and all that years ago or else he’d probably be pretty tense right about now.  As it is he’s less rubberband ready to snap and more bendy straw that really just wants to be left alone.

Yeah…

He rubs his forehead and takes another breath.  That analogy didn’t make any sense.  He needs more sleep.  A lot more sleep.

This is a train wreck.  Trying to disguise itself as two adult males who are not in some sort of silent pissing contest while both managing to look unfairly attractive while staring at each other like they have the ability to crush the other with sheer power of will alone.  A train wreck.  A very, very attractive train wreck.

“Christopher Argent.”

Oh.  Noah blinks a few times as he processes that.  Oh wait.

That’s not just Peter’s ‘I know who you are’ voice.  That’s Peter’s ‘I know you’ voice.

“Peter?” Noah asks cautiously as memories come tumbling forward.  Stories about the time Peter spent at college.  Details conveniently left out — which he never questioned, never pressed, because he has his own conveniently Chris-shaped details missing from the tales he’s told of his time at college — and glossed over.

Peter breaks his staring contest with Chris and looks over.  He can see the same realization he’s having in Peter’s eyes as well.

“Noah?”  There’s more than just his name in that question.  There’s a too-short summer, a decade of hospitals and stories and holding hands, years of turning children into teens and raising wolves.  There’s a bed with their sheets on it and a house with their family in it.  There’s all the time spent together and, just as importantly, all the time spent apart.

“Just don’t make me arrest my husband.”  Peter holds his gaze for a few seconds before he smiles.  They are definitely having a conversation later, probably a few of them, but for now?  For now they’re on the same page.

“I would never put you in that position.”  Peter winks.  “I’d make Deputy Parrish do it.”

“Derek would be so embarrassed.”

“It would almost be worth it.”

He laughs and shakes his head.  “Back at the house?”

“I’m thinking the hills tonight.”  It’s a surprising suggestion, considering the man standing a few feet away from them.  He expected Peter to want to round up the wagons and pull the kids in close tonight.  “There’s someone else we need to talk to.”

Noah swallows hard and nods.  It’s been awhile since they’ve sat and talked to Claudia.

“Okay.  The hills it is.”  Noah glances between Chris and Peter a few times before he turns and heads for his patrol car.  He’s still got a few hours of work to finish and standing here playing mediator for the two men he fell in love with back when they were still teens is not an option right now.  “You two behave now, okay?”

“Only if you ask nicely,” Chris says.

Noah looks back over his shoulder.  Chris looks like he’s mentally kicking himself for that comment and Peter has a sparkle in his eyes that spells nothing but trouble for Chris the moment Noah is out of earshot.

“How about this for nice?  If you don’t make me send my deputy out here to arrest his brother or my husband or, God help you, both, then you don’t have to deal with me being pissed off at the both of you for an indeterminate period of time.”  He grins at them.  “That nice enough for you, Chris?”

“I love it when you talk Sheriff,” Peter damn near purrs.

“You’ll love it less when you piss me off, Peter.  We both know it.  The kids know it.  My deputies know it.  Make sure Chris here knows it too, yeah?”

“Understood.”  Peter’s teasing grin turns sincere.  “I love you.  I’ll see you later.”

“Love you too,” he replies.

He’s late getting out of the station that night and the moon is already creeping through the sky by the time he pulls his truck off the road and parks it.  Peter is sitting on a blanket in front of the jeep, staring up at the sky.  Noah sinks to the ground next to him and tips his head back against the cool metal to look up at the stars.

“So,” Peter says when the moon is high above them.  “Chris.”

“Chris,” Noah agrees.  “Yeah.”

“Before?”

“No.  After.  After that summer.  I uh.  I ran into him a bunch of times on campus when I got back to school and coffee turned into dinner turned into falling into bed with each other.  Honestly I think it was the closest thing to a relationship I ever had other than with you.  And it probably was barely even that.”

“Noah.”

He shifts and drops his head against Peter’s shoulder.  “Peter.”

“You still use the keychain he got you.  You drink your coffee every morning out of the mug he gave you.”

“So.”

“You love him.”

“Says the man who still uses the wallet he was given and wears a sweatshirt that is nearly falling apart at the seams.”

Peter stretches his left arm out in front of them, worn sweatshirt cuff loose around his wrist, and wiggles his fingers.  The moonlight glints off the wedding ring on his finger and Noah smiles.

“So we both still love him,” Peter states.

“I guess so.”

“Did you know what he was?”

“Yeah.”  He rubs his head against Peter’s shoulder. “Did you?”

Peter takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly.  “Yes.  I did.  I knew and I fell for him anyway.”

“Did he know?”

“What I was or that I loved him?”

“Either?”

“No.”  Peter huffs out a laugh.  “Not that I know of anyway.”

“Yeah.”  Noah sighs.  “Me either.”

—

THEN

“No.”  He watches as Claudia paces around the living room, one hand rubbing at her swollen stomach and the other clutching the phone pressed to her ear.  “Peter.  No.”

He kind of wants to take the phone from her and talk to Peter himself.  To try and get him to drop whatever it is that has Claudia so agitated.  But that would require talking to Peter.  Which is not an option because 1) then Peter would know Claudia is with Noah and she doesn’t want anyone to know where she is and 2) he doesn’t think he’s ready to answer whatever other questions Peter will no doubt have for him.  Or worse.  Peter won’t have any questions for him, won’t even care that Noah left the way he did or wonder what Noah’s been up to since then.

Claudia glances at him and rolls her eyes.

“Yes, Peter.  There is someone else here with me.  No, I'm not telling you who it is.”  She sighs.  “I just wanted to let you know I’m safe and that I just needed time away.  I’ll be back to Beacon Hills when you come back for winter break.”  She looks at him again and smiles sadly.  “Yeah.  I will.  I’ll be fine, Peter.  Trust me.”

She collapses onto the couch next to him as gracefully as she can — which wasn’t all that graceful even before she was about eight months pregnant — and puts her head on his shoulder.

“He’s mad?”

“He’s a little hurt that I won’t tell him anything.  But he understands.  Hell he’s smart enough he probably suspects.  At least where I am.  I don’t think he knows why I’m here.”

“Did you ever tell him you and Garrett were together?”

“No.  I was going to but he never came back for spring break and then when I realized I was pregnant I knew I had to get out.  Talia hates me to begin with.  Who knows what she’d try to say or do.  I don’t trust her, Noah.  Is that horrible of me?  To distrust my boyfriend’s sister so much that I’d rather have this baby without him knowing a single thing about it until after it’s born?”

“I don’t think so.”

“It’s just.  I trust Garrett.  But I don’t trust her.  You get it.  You trusted Peter and me when we said she was the way she was.  But Garrett… She’s his big sister.  She’s his Alpha.  I just know that if I told him he’d insist that we tell her and then who knows what would happen.  Garrett might trust her but I don’t think I ever will.  And if that means I have to break up with him and have this baby and raise it on my own I will.”

He tugs her close and presses a kiss to her temple.

“You’re not on your own.  Not while I’m around.  And I can guarantee you that once Peter gets his head out of his ass about you not telling him right away he’ll be right there with you.  He’ll understand your choice.  We just have to give him time.”

A few weeks later Claudia shuffles into his bedroom, breathing harshly.

“It’s time,” she says with a shaky laugh.

“I have to ask,” Noah says even as he’s rolling out of bed and grabbing the first pair of pants he can find.  “Are you sure about his name?”

“He’s my baby, Noah Stilinski, and I can name him whatever I want.”

“It’s just.  Who the hell is gonna be able to pronounce Mieczysław?”

“Other than you and me and anyone who gives enough of a damn about him to learn how to pronounce his name properly?”

He yanks on his shirt.  “Good point.”

“Hey, Noah?” Claudia asks between deep breaths as they’re pulling into the hospital parking lot.

“Yeah?”

“Can I put you down as his father?  If something happens to me I just want to know that he’ll be in good hands.  If you’re on there then he’ll be okay.  I know he will.  You won’t let them take him from you.”

“Um.  Shit.  I mean.  Yeah.”  He reaches out for her and she grabs his hand tight.  “Are you sure?”

“Yes.  I’m sure.  I want you down as his father.  Just in case.”

“I’d be honored.”  Claudia tenses and groans even as she tries to give him a smile.  “Okay.  Let’s get you inside so you can have this baby.”

Mieczysław Stilinski is born in the middle of the night and by the time Noah and Claudia manage to get a few hours of sleep in around sunrise Mieczysław’s already charmed the entirety of the nursing staff with his dark brown eyes and chubby cheeks.

—

NOW

“Uncle Jor!”

Noah glances up just in time to see Jordan nearly be knocked on his ass by a teenage girl.

“Hey, Allison,” Jordan laughs.  “Chris didn’t tell me you were here already.”

“Yeah.  Short version: Grandpa got his way.”

“Understood.”

Jordan looks around the station and spots Noah in his office.  He raises his eyebrows in question and Noah stands and gestures them over.

“Deputy Parrish,” Noah greets when they get to the door.  “Who might this lovely young lady be?”

“This is my niece, Allison Argent.”  Allison smiles brightly and bumps against Jordan’s side.  Noah smiles in return and holds out his hand.  She gives him a firm handshake as Jordan says, “Allison.  This is Sheriff Noah Stilinski.”  She gives Jordan a sharp look and he grins.  “Yep.  That Noah.”

“Do I even want to know what you mean by ‘that Noah’ or will it just terrify me somehow?”

“Only if it terrifies you to be the first guy my dad fell for and still has the hots for.”  Allison gasps.  “Wait.  He was saying…  Does this mean Peter is here too?  Like.  Peter, Peter?  That Peter?  Is that why Dad has been all pouty the last couple weeks?”

Jordan blinks a few times as it processes and he can tell the moment that everything clicks into place for Jordan.

“So.”  Jordan looks at him, eyes bright with glee.  “So you are Noah.  His Noah.  His first boyfriend, first guy in all those experiences.  And Peter is his Peter.  His college heartbreak who disappeared on him.  And you two are.  Holy shit.”

“They’re what?”

Noah holds up his hand.  “Married.”  Allison’s dark brown eyes go sad and despite the fact he’s been steeling himself against Stiles’ puppy dog eyes since the day that kid was born he still feels himself caving and needing to make it better.  “But don’t think that means you’re not welcome or anything.  You and your dad and Jordan are more than welcome to be around, okay?  Peter and I want you here.”

A mischievous twinkle lights up her eyes and he starts mentally getting his affairs in order for whatever that look will bring him.  It might not be right away.  But he knows that look.  He sees that look on an almost daily basis in his house and his station.

“All of us?”

“Yes.  All of you.”  He knows exactly where this is going and, honestly, he’s not even mad about it.  Considering he and Peter have been talking along this train of thought the last few weeks themselves.  “Even your dad.”

“Maybe… especially my dad?”

“Well, kiddo.”  He winks.  “I guess we’ll have to wait and see won’t we?”

They talk a few minutes longer before Allison has to leave to meet her dad and get registered for school.  Apparently she’ll be starting in a couple weeks, just before winter break, and the parallels aren’t lost on him.  He lost Chris at winter break.  Chris lost Peter at winter break.  And now… well he can only hope that this time winter break will be bringing new beginnings not losses.

“So.”  Jordan settles down in the chair on the other side of Noah’s desk.

“So?”

“So how does it feel knowing you were both Peter’s and Chris’ firsts?”

“Jordan.”  Noah sighs.  “Not that it’s any of your business but I was a lot of people's firsts for a lot of different things over the years.  I was Peter’s first everything.  I was the first guy Chris dated, made out with.”  He meets Jordan’s eyes.  “The first guy he ever fucked and the first one who ever fucked him.”  Jordan blinks and flushes just a little.  “I was the first guy my first college roommate ever sucked off.  The first guy who ever went down on my first girlfriend.  I can go on if you want.  I was the first guy a lot of my college buddies ever admitted to having a wet dream about.  The first one a lot of them kissed.  The first—”

“Okay.”  Jordan holds up his hands.  “I surrender.  I get it.  None of my business.  Have a nice day, Jordan.  Get back to work.”

He laughs.  “If you really want to know I have no problem telling you, Jordan.  Just remember not to ask questions you don’t really want an answer to.”

“Fair enough.”  Jordan glances over his shoulder at the nearly empty station and then leans forward, catching Noah’s gaze and holding it.  “I do have one question I need to know the answer to.”

“And that is?”

“Are they safe here?  Allison and Chris?”

“As safe as anyone else is.  It doesn’t matter to us who they are, Jordan.  So long as they don’t threaten us or try to hurt us?  We have no problem with them being here.  Hunters or not.”

“She’s not.  She’s been told about things.  Chris decided that if he was raising her he was doing it his way.  But it’s more making sure she can protect herself than anything else.”

“Understandable.”  They sit in companionable silence for a few minutes before a thought occurs to him and he props his elbows on his desk with a grin.  “Hey, Jordan?”

“Yeah?”

“How bad of an idea would it be for you to drag your brother and niece out to the house for Thanksgiving dinner?  We’re doing it on Saturday since I’m here Thursday.”

Jordan grins at him.  “Well I think it would be a wonderful idea.”

“Sounds like a plan then.  Don’t worry about bringing anything.  Unless you guys want to make a dessert to bring.  There’s always room for dessert.”

“Especially with a house full of teenagers, right?”

“Right.”

Nothing can change his mind about his idea now that he’s set it in motion.  Not even Peter’s exasperated sigh and the way he looks at Noah when he tells him about it as they’re getting ready for bed that night.

“Seriously?” Peter asks around his toothbrush.  “You invited him over for Thanksgiving?”

“No.”  Noah leans against Peter and meets his gaze in the mirror.  “I invited my newest deputy and his, as far as I know, single brother and his niece who are both new to town.  It’ll do Allison good to meet some of the other teens in town and it’ll do Chris good to meet the Alpha in charge and remember that we’re all just people.  No need to dig out the claws and guns.”

Peter snorts and spits out his toothpaste.  “That’s ironic, coming from you.”

Noah rolls his eyes and pads into the bedroom.  Peter will come around to the idea by the time Thanksgiving dinner is here.  If he doesn’t do it on his own Noah has plenty of ways to convince him of it.

—

THEN

There’s a feeling in his chest and he’s starting to regret not pushing harder when Claudia told him to just stay in town with his mom while she went out to the Hale house.  He’s spent the last hour pacing around the tiny living room in the house his mom has been renting from the recently elected Sheriff Mills.  His dad is… somewhere.  Probably drunk off his ass in his house across town.  Noah doesn’t really care so long as the man leaves him and his mom alone.

He rubs absently at his collarbone as he makes another circuit of the living room while his mom sits on the couch and reads her book, glancing up at him every now and then.

He has no idea what is wrong.  Just that something is wrong.  Or is going to be wrong.

“Sweetie.  Go.”  He twists around and looks at his mom.  She gives him a knowing smile.  “Your instincts have never led you down the wrong path yet.  Whatever is bothering you, whatever has you so out of sorts.  Just go.”

He gives her a tight hug, kisses her temple, and hurries out the door, calling out a distracted goodbye over his shoulder.

That feeling doesn’t get any better when he hops into his truck.  It doesn’t get any better when he reaches the edge of town and turns towards the Preserve.  It certainly doesn’t get any better when he gets pulled over a few miles outside of town and waits anxiously for the officer to walk up to his truck.

“Mr. Stilinski.”

“Sheriff Mills.”  He sighs in relief.  “Jody.  You’ve got to—”

“Noah.  You were speeding.”

“I know I was.  But.  There’s something wrong.  I don’t know what.  But Claudia went out to the Hale house and I just.  There’s something wrong.  I know it.  Call it intuition or instinct or whatever.  But you gotta believe me.”

She looks at him and he simply looks back and tries to put as much of what he’s feeling into his face so she can understand the gravity of it.  She closes her eyes for a moment and then lets out a long breath.

“Follow me out there.  Stay close.  If we get there and nothing is wrong you’re getting a speeding ticket at the very least.”

“That’s fine.  Thank you.”

He follows her flashing lights and the closer they get the more his chest twinges and his gut starts twisting.  There’s a glow in the trees that makes his palms sweat moments before he smells the first whiff of smoke in the air.  Sheriff Mills’ patrol car speeds up and takes the turn onto the drive that leads to the Hale house faster than she probably should.  Noah follows just as quickly.

He’s out of his truck, door hanging open, the moment it is in park.

He’s just in time to see the roof of the Hale house collapsing in a plume of smoke and fire.  Sheriff Mills is leaning into her patrol car, no doubt using the radio to call the fire in, but Noah ignores her distracted shout at him to stay back.

His friends are in there.  Claudia is in there.  Peter, back from college for the break, is in there.  Garrett and Laura and little Derek and Cora are in there.  Claudia’s baby.  Garrett’s baby.  His baby is in there.

Why they are in there is a mystery to him.  But he knows it.  If only because he can hear faint yelling under the creaking beams and crackling flames and because of the suspicious lack of anyone outside of the house.

He hurries to the house, jumps up onto the porch and stops at the sight of the door flung open with Garrett’s body slumped just inside.

“Claudia.  Side door,” Garrett rasps and Noah jumps in surprise.  “Ash,” he coughs out.  “Trap.”

Noah looks down and sees the dark line of ash on the outside of the doorway.  He kicks his foot through it and looks up but Garrett is already gone, smoke from the fire and, no doubt, the mountain ash too much for his lungs.  Noah drags him onto the porch anyway and then bolts for the side door.  It’s a small thing, almost like a secret panel built into the side of the house.  Very few people know about it.

There’s a line of ash outside that door too but it looks like it was hurriedly tossed down, most likely in an attempt to put a quick ring around the house in case anyone slipped out the doors or windows, and he kicks at it as he tries to pry the door open.  He can faintly hear movement on the other side and the moment he kicks the last bit of ash away the door pops open and a body falls out at him.

He’s moving on autopilot, trying to pull people out of the small doorway while not looking too closely at any of them.

He already knows that despite most of them being werewolves they’re not going to make it.  They’ve already been inside the fire too long and if he had to guess there was some nasty shit like wolfsbane tossed into the flames.

He takes as deep of a breath as he can as he pulls someone — Talia’s husband he thinks — out of the small opening and makes a decision then and there: if he finds out his father had anything to do with this he’s going to kill the man himself.  In his eyes there’s nothing worse than a hunter who has decided he’s judge, jury, and executioner to innocent creatures.

“Noah!”  Sheriff Mills pulls him back just as the window nearest the doorway shatters.  “You have to get back.  The fire department will be here any minute.  There’s nothing you can do.”

His stomach clenches as he hears something crashing inside the house.

She tugs at his arm and he yanks it out of her grip.  He still hasn’t seen Claudia.  Or Peter.  Or—

He can’t think about it.  Can’t imagine that someone who has only been in the world a few months might already be out of it again.

The siren is loud, echoing through the trees.

The fire crackles and pops behind him.

Sheriff Mills is yelling something at him, trying to guide him away from the house.

Something deep in his chest aches, pulling taut like a string unraveling, and he twists out of Sheriff Mills’ grip once again before sprinting to the other side of the house.  He gets to the other side and kicks his feet through the dust and dirt just as the window to Talia’s office explodes outwards, glass shards slicing at his cheek and hands as he reaches up on instinct.  A heavy body lands in his outstretched arms and he hits the ground, collapsing under the weight.

Noah looks up at the window and sees Claudia smiling down at him for only a moment before something crashes in the house and then she’s gone and he’s sitting on the wet grass with Peter in his arms — it’s Peter, he knows that without even looking down — staring up at the empty window.

—

NOW

It’s Christmas Eve.  He finished his double and handed the reins to Jordan who will cover the station until just before noon tomorrow when Tara takes over.  They’re all on call in case anything happens but he’s hoping that nothing will and Tara gets the morning with her kids and then Jordan will come out to the Hale house for lunch.  Jordan had spent the early part of the night with Chris and Allison and had warned Noah that both Argents had been in a bit of a mood though he hadn’t been too sure why.

He lets himself into the house and smiles when he hears the kids upstairs shushing each other as he slips out of his shoes and settles them under the bench next to the door.  He peeks into the living room and grabs the blanket from the armchair to drape over Chris, who’s asleep on the couch.  Then he slips into the kitchen and grabs a cookie from the plate on the counter before he pads down the hallways.  He pauses when he sees the light on in his office before he opens the door.

Allison and Stiles are curled up together in Peter’s chair in the corner of Noah’s office and they both look up at him when he steps inside.

“Hey, Dad,” Stiles says softly.

“Hey, kiddos,” he replies as he opens the safe on his bookshelf and drops his gun and badge inside.  “What’s up?  Can’t sleep?”

“It’s cool if Chris and Allison just hang with us all day tomorrow, right?  Even if they had planned on going home after lunch?”

“Of course.”  Noah tosses his work keys in his desk drawer and props himself against the desk.  “They’re always welcome.”  He glances between the two teens in the chair.  “Wanna talk about it?”

Stiles shrugs and hugs Allison a little tighter.  She gives him a grateful smile and sighs.

“Kate, in all her infinite wisdom, decided that she has better things to do on Christmas than be with us.”

This must be what was bothering them earlier.  The thing Jordan didn’t know about was that Kate wasn’t coming to town for Christmas.  He knows the name.  Knows that Kate is Chris’ little sister.  It’s not a surprise that Allison might be close to her but he didn’t realize the change in plans would upset Chris so much too.

“Okay.  That sucks.”  He might not like the things he’s heard about Kate Argent but he’s not about to tell Allison that he, personally, isn’t all that hurt about her not coming to his town.

“Yeah.  And you’d think it was some flaw or something that I wanted to see my mom on Christmas.”

Noah tilts his head as he processes that.  “Your mom?”

“Oh!”  Allison bites her lip, clearly thinking about something she had been told.  He can see when she mentally shrugs and decides to share her thoughts.  “Yeah.  Um.  Chris technically isn’t my dad.  Kate’s my mom.  But she’s always away so much on business that Chris raises me.  He’s listed as my legal guardian and stuff I guess?  It’s just easier to call him dad and tell people that’s what he is?  She’s not really ever around enough for me to really call her mom.”

Stiles hugs her even tighter for a moment and gives Noah a questioning look that he nods in agreement to.

“You’re not alone in that,” Stiles says.  Allison gives him a confused look.  “Dad’s not really my dad.  Neither is Peter.  My mom put Dad down on the birth certificate ‘cause she wanted to make sure he’d be able to take care of me no matter what.  Things were kinda complicated with my bio-dad and his family and all that.”  Stiles pauses for a moment.  “And, well, I mean.  Dad adopted Isaac years ago and Peter took custody of Derek and Jackson’s parents adopted him when he was a baby and, well, seriously.  You’re not alone.”

“Family isn’t just blood,” Noah says, smiling softly when Allison looks at him.  “Isn’t just a common ancestor or whatever.  Family is what you make it.  Family is who you bring into your circle.”

“You can pick your family,” Stiles says.  “No matter what some people might try to tell you.”

“You really think so?” Allison asks quietly.

“Think about it like this, Allison,” Noah says.  “Your dad didn’t have to decide to raise you as his daughter.  Even if he is listed as your legal guardian he could still just as easily have that separation and say he’s raising his niece.  But he doesn’t.  He doesn’t say he’s raising his sister’s kid.  He tells people he’s got a little girl.  You’re his little girl, his daughter.  Just like Stiles is my son.  Because we chose it.  Chris chose to be your dad just like I chose to be Stiles’ dad.  And if Kate doesn’t feel that way, if she chooses not to be your mother that’s on her.  And it’s okay.  Because you got a pretty awesome dad out of it, even if he’s not biologically your dad.”

Stiles smiles at him and Allison scrunches her face up as she thinks it over.  A few minutes later she’s got the start of a smile on her face as she untangles herself from Stiles and pushes up from the chair.

“Thank you,” Allison says.  “I never really thought about it like that I guess.  I always just kinda thought that, you know, she didn’t want me and he just felt bad for me or something.”  She shuffles closer.  “So, yeah.  Thank you.”

“C’mere, kiddo.”  He holds his arms open and she steps into the hug.  “You’re welcome.  And anytime you need to talk I’m here, okay?”

“Okay.”  She steps away and rubs at her face.  “I think I’m gonna go wake up my dad so we can head home.”

“You’re welcome to crash here if you want.”

She nods to show she heard him but a few minutes later he hears Chris’ SUV start and he and Stiles listen to the gravel crunching under the tires until they’re out of earshot.

Stiles pushes up from the chair only to collapse his weight against Noah and bury his face against his dad’s shoulder.

“Does this change anything?  That she’s Kate’s daughter?”

“No,” he says.  “It doesn’t change anything.  A person is not their parents.  She’s not her mom.  She’s not her dad.  You’re not your mom or dad.  She’s her own person.  Just like you are.”

“Okay.”  Stiles wraps his arms around Noah and hugs him tight.  “Hey, Dad?”

“Yeah?”

“Love you.”

“Love you too, son.”

—

THEN

The room is quiet, even with all the machinery and equipment that Peter is hooked up to at the moment, and it makes Noah’s skin itch.  Though the grief and the loss and the anger and the stew of emotions roiling in his gut also makes his skin itch.

He’s already called the college and dropped out of his classes.  He might go back, someday.  But right now this is where he needs to be.  The Hale family is, more or less, gone.  There were six confirmed dead from the fire.  As far as Noah knows Laura, Derek, and Cora haven’t been found.  He has no idea where they are or why they weren’t in the house.  Unfortunately Talia, Garrett, Claudia, Talia’s husband, and two cousins Noah had never met have all been confirmed dead.

From what Noah has been able to figure out — Sheriff Mills may or may not have threatened to put him in one of the cells if he so much as stepped foot into her office without her permission one more time — the fire was apparently an accident.  Though he knows better with the mountain ash barriers along the doorways and he knows there’s no way a simple fire would have been enough to put down an entire family of werewolves.  This was no accident.  He can almost guarantee that there was something either tossed in with the flames or something pumped into the ducts of the house that slowed down the accelerated healing of the werewolves.

It all boils down to a hunter, or hunters, deciding to take out the Hale Pack.

He’s never been too far into that life, despite the fact his father had tried to raise him into it, so he doesn’t have any contacts that he can reach out to.  No one he can get to look into things.  To tell him if they’ve heard anything.

So, for now, he’ll just buckle down.  He’ll find a place here in town.  He’ll push Sheriff Mills as much as he can before she tells him to get the hell out of the station.

He’ll raise Mieczysław the way Claudia wanted him raised.

He’ll visit Peter as much as he can.

He shifts Mieczysław in his arms and settles down in the chair next to Peter’s bed.

“So,” he says softly, voice loud in the quiet hospital room.  “God,” he breathes out when nothing else comes to him.  “This is.  This is so messed up, Peter.  I was supposed to be going back to classes next week.  With Claudia telling me about all the shit you gave her for popping out your nephew and never mentioning it.  Listening to her talk about the look on your face, the look on Garrett’s face, on Talia’s face, when she walked into the house with a baby in her arms.

“Did she even tell you it was your nephew?  Did she get that far?  Did she even get the chance to tell you his name before shit hit the fan?  It’s Mieczysław, by the way.  Just in case she didn’t get that far.  It rolls right off the tongue, right?  It’s… hell I’ll be honest.  It’s hard to say it.  Not because I can’t pronounce it.  But because it was her name for him, you know?  And every time I say it all I can hear is her saying it.  Her telling me that the people who care enough about him to learn how to properly say it were the important people.  And, not in so many words, the rest of them could go to hell.”

Noah sighs as Mieczysław wriggles around in his arms and slowly starts to wake up.  It’ll be time to feed him soon.

The next time Noah comes back it’s just as quiet.  Just as eerie.  It makes his skin itch just as much.

He sits down in the same chair he did last time, the same chair he’s sat in every time he’s been here, and looks at Peter.

“You saved him, didn’t you?”  He’s seen the reports.  Seen the way the Hales had been found.  The exits they had been found near.  Laura, Derek, and Cora still haven’t been found but he doesn’t think they’re dead.  He can only hope that wherever they are they have each other.  That Laura is their Alpha and they’re safe.

“Whatever happened, wherever that particular flare up was.  You saved him.  That’s why you’re in such bad shape.  Why you were in such bad shape when Claudia pushed you out that window with him in your arms.  You saved Miecz—”

Noah takes a bracing breath, suddenly overwhelmed by how much he misses Claudia.  He thought he was going to be okay.  He’s been preparing himself to help her raise the boy since the moment she told him she was pregnant in that diner.

He just never thought he’d need to do it by himself.  With one of his best friends dead and the other in a coma they might never wake up from, werewolf or not.

“Stiles.  I’m gonna call him Stiles.  It’s not the best name.  My father.  He used to go by it.  But.  I don’t think I can call him Mieczysław without feeling like my heart is being torn out.  You understand, right?  You and her, Peter.  For as short a time as we were together you’re both the closest things I’ve ever had to best friends.

“I’m not leaving you, Peter.  Me and little Stiles here?  We’re not going anywhere.  It’s not the same.  It’s not her, I know.  But.  We’re here.”

Noah might have been raised to hunt, he might have more knowledge than most about what sorts of things are out there that go bump in the night.  But he doesn’t know anything about what to do when a pack loses most of its members, what to do when a werewolf loses most of its family, what to do when a werewolf is in some sort of coma because it’s body has taken so much damage, some of which will never show up on any tests because how do you test for broken pack bonds and crushed souls.

All he can do is wait.  Visit Peter.  Tell him about his day.  Tell him about Stiles growing up.

Tell him about Stiles’ first steps.  About becoming Beacon Hills’ newest deputy.  About Stiles’ first words.  About the lady at the grocery store flirting with him.  About Stiles’ teeth coming through.  About trying to explain to the plumber what happened to the pipes without explaining that Noah’s toddler sometimes likes to chew through toys like a freaking puppy before shoving them down the toilet to hide them.

He tells Peter about Stiles flashing his little brown eyes to gold and laughing at the look on Noah’s face.

He tells Peter about taking care of the vampire that had tried to set up shop in town and start draining night shift workers here at the hospital.

He tells Peter everything he can and, once Stiles starts talking in more than one and two word sentences, Stiles fills in some of the gaps for him.

—

NOW

“Happy birthday, little one,” Peter says as he pulls Allison into a hug.

Allison rolls her eyes at the nickname but she’s smiling as she hugs Peter as tightly as she can before Lydia and Erica step into the living room looking for her.

“Thank you, Peter.”  She laughs as he slips something into her jacket pocket and shoos her away.

“You did not give her keys to a car or something,” Noah says, stepping up to Peter and pulling his husband against his side.

“Of course not.”  Peter smiles up at him.  “I gave her the login information for the savings account I helped Chris set up for her.”

“Mhmm,” he hums.  “And how much did you deposit into that savings account?”  

Peter doesn’t even pretend he doesn’t know exactly what Noah is asking.

“The same as I did for all the rest of our kids when they turned seventeen.”

Noah snorts.  “I’m assuming, since I know how much that is, that Chris has no idea you put that much in there.”

“Nope.  And even if he looks he can’t do anything about it because Allison is the only one who can withdraw money from it.”

“Just like the rest of the kids’ accounts.”

“Yes.  Just like their accounts.”

“He is going to kill you,” Noah says conversationally as they watch Allison and her friends gathering around the kitchen table.

Once they sing Happy Birthday to her and she blows out her candles, Peter nudges Noah.  When Noah looks at him Peter grins.

“The numbers to deposit into it are written down with the rest of them. Chris will just have to accept that if he’s going to stay here with us, even if he’s not with us, we are going to take care of the kids.  And whether he likes it or not, she’s one of them.”

He rolls his eyes and pushes Peter away from him when Stiles and Derek call for Peter to join them where they’re trying to beat Erica, Vernon, and Jordan in some game.  He watches them for a few minutes and when Chris steps up to his side he simply gives the other man a smile and goes back to watching over the party.

“What did he do?”

“You’re really going to have to be more specific there, Chris.”  Noah winks at him.  “This is Peter we’re talking about.”

“What absolutely ridiculous gift did he get for my girl?  A car?  A pony?  A puppy?”

Noah gestures at the teens scattered around the house.  “You guys got the puppies all on your own.”

Chris snorts.  “Okay I walked into that one.  Thanks for making sure they were housebroken for me I suppose.”

“It wasn’t easy.  But someone had to do it.  God only knows Peter was barely housebroken.”  Peter flips him off without even looking up from whatever he’s playing with the teens.  “Some days I’m still not sure if he fully is or not.”

Chris opens his mouth to respond but then a car door slams outside and Noah tenses.  Peter looks over at him, just as tense.

“What is it?”  Chris glances around the house, taking note of where everyone is even as he shifts his weight, ready to spring into action.

“Someone else is here.”

There’s a swift knock on the door before it opens.

Every single instinct he has is telling him to grab the kids and run.  He meets Peter’s gaze and knows he’s thinking the same thing.

“Grandpa!” Allison runs across the room and throws herself into her grandfather’s arms.  She lets out a happy gasp.  “Kate!”

“Happy Birthday, sweetie,” Kate Argent says as she steps into the house and pulls Allison into a hug.

Gerard and Kate look at the teens scattered around the house as Allison tugs Kate further into the house and starts introducing her friends.

“Dad,” Chris says, drawing his father’s attention away from where it seems to be pinned on Peter.  “I didn’t think you guys were going to be able to make it for the party.”

“Well.  We couldn’t pass up the opportunity to meet Allison’s new friends now could we?  Especially since we had that business crop up over Christmas that you couldn’t come help us with.”

Chris makes a noncommittal noise and Noah shifts just enough that Gerard’s attention snaps to him.

“Dad,” Chris says.  “This is Sheriff Noah Stilinski.  Noah.  This is my father, Gerard Argent.”

He shakes Gerard’s hand and resists the urge to wipe his palm on his jeans.  Barely.  But he does it.

“Sheriff Stilinski,” Gerard says.  “Last time I came through the sheriff was some lady named… What was it?  Mills?”

“Jody Mills, yeah.  She was a good sheriff.  Retired about three years ago and I took her place.”

Gerard nods a few times.  “Well.  I think I need to get another hug and wish my granddaughter a Happy Birthday.  Excuse me.”

Peter is slumped in the passenger seat of the jeep and Noah leans against the steering wheel as they both stare up at the darkened windows of Chris’ house late that night.

“I don’t buy it,” Peter grumbles.  “Not for one second.  They did not just ‘stop by’ conveniently for Allison’s birthday.  No.  Just.  No.”

“I agree.  I don’t know if you heard but Gerard mentioned something about how Chris was supposed to help them with ‘business’ at Christmas.”

“I caught something about Christmas but I was too busy keeping myself from ripping Kate’s arms off after she pulled Allison and Lydia into a hug.  I am not normally this uncontrolled around hunters.  You know this, Noah.”

“I do.”

“And it’s not just the hunter thing.  We’ve run into plenty of them and I’ve never been this on edge if they haven’t blatantly said or done something.”

“I know.”

“So why the hell do those two make me so damn uneasy?”

“I don’t know.”

The porch light comes on and Chris pads out of the house.  He gives the jeep an unimpressed look before shuffling down the drive and leaning against the passenger door.  He looks between Peter and Noah a couple of times before sighing.

“I will forgive the Alpha wolf, overprotective father, wary sheriff staring at my house all night thing you two have going on if you bring me a very, very large coffee and a bag of cinnamon sugar donut holes from the diner on Main Street in the morning.”

“What’s the real reason they’re here, Christopher?”

“I don’t know, Peter.  I swear I don’t.  But I will do my damnedest to find out and get them on their merry way.  You don’t trust them, you don’t want them here.  Believe it or not I’m on the same page.”

“We’ll make sure we’re out of sight by the time the kids wake up,” Noah says.  “As far as they know we were never here.  We’ll bring breakfast for everyone.”

“That’s the best I’m going to get, isn’t it?”

“Yep.”

“Then I guess I’ll take it.”  Chris gives them both a tired smile.  “Goodnight you two.”

“Sweet dreams,” Peter coos.

“At least I’ll get to sleep,” Chris replies as he walks back up the drive.  “In a nice comfy bed.”

“Oh now that’s just mean,” Noah grumbles.

“Don’t worry, babe,” Peter replies as the porch light goes off.  “I’ll make it up to you later.  Promise.”

“That’s what you always say.”

Peter turns and smiles at him.  “And I always keep my word.”

—

THEN

“Dad!”

Stiles darts down the hall and skids into Noah’s side.

“Just a second, son.”

“But, Dad!”

“Stiles.”  He looks down at Stiles who nods in understanding before he turns his attention back to the nurse he had been speaking to.  “Seriously, Melissa.  If you need the help, let me know.  Okay?  You and Scott.  You don’t deserve that shit.”

“Is that your official assessment?” Nurse McCall teases.

“Damn straight it is.”  He squeezes her hand.  “Any.  Time.”

She squeezes his hand in response and then he lets Stiles drag him down the hallway back towards Peter’s room.

“Dad.”

“Stiles.”

“Peter’s gonna wake up soon.”

“What?”

“He’s gonna wake up.  I could, I dunno.  Hear it?  Smell it?  I don’t know how but it’s gonna happen.  Today I think.”

Noah settles himself in the chair next to Peter’s bed, the same spot he’s been sitting for the last eleven years.  Even when Peter’s room changed, Noah’s spot in the chair on the left side of his bed hasn’t.  Stiles squishes onto the chair with him and when Peter doesn’t immediately wake up he pulls out a book and starts reading.

Noah starts talking softly so he doesn’t disturb Stiles’ concentration.  He tells Peter about the last few days and how Tara got stuck manning the phone lines last week when the power went out and everyone decided that every small thing was an emergency that required calling the station.  Stiles interrupts every now and then to add in a story from school or tell about something cool he read a couple days ago.  Or something that he is highly offended by in a way that only a twelve-year-old can be.

“I mean.  Come on.  How dumb is that?  Right, Peter?”  Stiles sighs heavily and snaps his book shut, tossing it on the floor next to his backpack.  “Just because I’m twelve doesn’t make me an idiot.”

“Stiles.”

Noah’s head whips up just in time to see Peter’s eyes slowly blink open.

“What?” Stiles looks up at Noah first and then over to Peter.

“You must be Stiles,” Peter rasps out.

“Holy shit,” Noah breathes out.  Peter drags his gaze from Stiles to Noah.

“Noah,” Peter whispers.

“Peter.”

Moments later the doctor comes rushing into the room, a couple nurses behind him who usher Stiles and Noah out gently so they can look over Peter.  Once they’re all satisfied — for now anyway — they let Noah and Stiles back into the room.  Stiles sits on the edge of Peter’s bed and watches as Noah slides the chair as close as he can to the bed and takes Peter’s hand in his.

They talk.  Long after visiting hours have ended and he should have been kicked out.  Long after Stiles falls asleep slumped against Peter’s shoulder.  Long after Peter’s vocal cords should have given out considering how little he’s used them the last decade.

“Is everyone… gone?”

Noah shakes his head.  “I don’t think the kids are.  Laura, Derek, and Cora.  I’ve never been able to find them even with Sheriff Mills’ help.”

“Sheriff Mills, is it?”

Noah chuckles.  “Yeah.  And, if you’ll believe it, I’m a deputy now.”  Peter blinks at him in surprise.  “Yeah.  Seemed the easiest way to be able to try and look into the fire and keep you two safe and keep an eye on the things coming in and out of town.”

“And the fire?”

“Officially an accident.  Though I know better.  And I know that Sheriff Mills smells something fishy but they were good enough we couldn’t find anything that would hold up.  Not in any regular old human court of law anyway.”

“Human court.  You knew.”  It’s not a question.  But he answers anyway.

“Yeah.”

“Before that summer?”

“Yeah.  We’re, uh, not a big name but the Stilinski family is a hunting family.  My father tried with me but I refused to follow in his footsteps.”

Peter glances down at Stiles leaning against his shoulder.  “Did Claudia know?”  

“Not until a few minutes after she told me she was pregnant.  But she brought him into the world knowing that I would do everything in my power to keep him safe no matter what he was born as.  Werewolf or human.”

Peter frowns.  “I don’t.  I remember her coming to the house.  Saying she had an announcement and we were all gathering around.  Then… it gets fuzzy.  Bits and pieces that I can’t be sure are memories or dreams or what.  I remember fire and curling around the baby when something from the ceiling fell.  But.  What happened, Noah?”

“The fire was set deliberately.  I know that much because of the mountain ash I found around the house and lining the windows and doors.  I got there and Garrett was at the front door but by the time I cleared the ash and pulled him out he was gone.  He had said something about Claudia, the side door, ash, and a trap.  I got to the side door and tried to clear it but, again.  I was too late.  Jody tried to drag me away and something made me run to the other side.”

“Talia’s office,” Peter says softly.

“Yeah.  I cleared the ash under it just as the window exploded and then you were in my arms, with Stiles in yours, and I looked up and saw Claudia.  Then there was a crash and that was it.”

“I think.  I think she saved me.  She pulled something off of me, I can remember that, and she said something about the window.  But that’s all.”

That matches up with what he’s put together over the years and he squeezes Peter’s hand before bringing it to his lips and pressing a kiss to the back of it.

“Stiles’ given name is Mieczysław Stilinski.  Claudia wanted me on the certificate as his father even though he’s biologically not mine.”  Peter eyes him curiously.  “I don’t know how much you remember of what all I’ve rambled at you over the years.  So the short version is that he’s Claudia and Garrett’s son.  He’s your nephew.  He’s a born werewolf.  Claudia didn’t trust that Talia wouldn’t have tried to control her, control his birth and raising, if she was told beforehand.  So she came to me that summer and stayed with me and gave birth to him in September.”

“He’s a Hale,” Peter whispers, voice filled with awe.

“A Hale.  A Gajos.  A Stilinski.  He’s all of it.”  Noah huffs softly.  “When we get you out of here and get you home with us we can rehash everything.  I promise.”

“Home?”

“I’m renting the house Mom was renting back when the fire happened.  After she passed away a few years ago Stiles and I moved in.  There’s room for you if you want it.”

“Are you sure?”

He kisses the back of Peter’s hand.  “I was stupid enough to lose you once, Peter.  I’m not about to do it again.  So long as you’ll have me.”

—

NOW

Chris settles into the armchair in the corner of Noah’s office.

“Are we sure they’re safe?”

“As safe as they can be at the school,” Peter replies from his spot perched on the corner of Noah’s desk.  “They all share at least one or two classes together.  They know each other’s routines and schedules.  They know to be careful.  Watch each other’s backs even more than usual.”

“Are you sure about your information?” Noah asks Chris after he’s looked everything over for the third time.

“Unfortunately.”  Chris runs his hand down his face tiredly.  “I’ve checked with two, three, hell, even four different sources for some of it.  It’s true.”  Chris takes a deep breath.  “My sister started the fire here at the Hale house.  She had help.  Had someone who helped her figure out an untraceable solution.  But she did it.  Sealed the house.  Got powdered wolfsbane into the ducts somehow.  Started the fire without anyone realizing she was there.  For all I know she stood just out of sight and watched it happen.”

“What do we do now?”  Noah meets Peter’s gaze.  “Not like we can try to take her to court.  Most of this stuff wouldn’t hold up in court.  If we even managed to get it that far.  There’s nothing I could even arrest her for to get the ball rolling.”

“I know,” Peter agrees.

“And unless she makes a move on us here and now there’s nothing we can do without being branded the bad guys.  We make the first move and we’re the monsters who need to be put down.”

“I know.”

“So what?”

“We wait, I suppose.”  Peter looks at Chris as he says, “I’m guessing she wouldn’t be hanging around this long if she wasn’t planning something.”

Chris nods.  “That’s what I was thinking.  She doesn’t like being in one place to begin with.  And I know she and my father know the Hale Pack.  Hell, my father told me to watch my back when I told him I’d be moving here to be near Jordan.  Told me I wouldn’t be able to trust anyone in town but myself.”  He rolls his shoulders.  “I have no idea what she’s planning or if my father is in on it at all.  But I can tell you it’s not going to be a polite little tea party.”

“Well.  Only thing we can do is what we’ve always done,” Noah says as he pushes his chair back from his desk and stands.

“We’ll handle it when it comes to us,” Peter replies.

“Yep.  Until then?  I think it’s time for lunch.”

Chris stares at them as Noah gathers the papers and sticks them into his safe under his gun.  He’s still staring when Peter kisses Noah’s cheek before heading down to the kitchen.

Noah clears his throat and holds out his hand.  “You coming with?  Peter makes a pretty good homemade pizza.”

Chris stares at him a few moments longer and then grabs Noah’s hand and lets Noah pull him up from the chair.

“Of course he does,” he mutters as he follows Noah into the kitchen.

Lunch turns into watching the chaos that is all the kids in the pack tumbling into the house and teasing each other and chasing each other through the hallways until Noah makes them settle down enough to help with dinner which turns into an impromptu sleepover despite the fact that it’s the middle of the week and they all have school the next day which turns into Allison sitting on the couch doing her homework wearing one of Stiles’ smaller sweatshirts and a pair of shorts that they keep for moments like these and Chris on the couch across from her in a pair of Peter’s sweatpants and a faded Beacon Hills Sheriff’s Department t-shirt.

“I wanna keep him,” Peter murmurs against Noah’s shoulder as Noah is changing into his own pajamas upstairs in their room.

“I don’t think you ever lost him,” Noah replies, nudging Peter until he moves enough for Noah to pull on a loose tank top.

“Did you?”

“Lose him?”

“Yeah.”

“Honestly?”  He kisses Peter.  “I don’t know,” he mumbles against Peter’s lips.  “I just don’t know.”

There’s a knock at their bedroom door and Derek pokes his head inside when they call out to him.

“Just wanted to give you a heads up that Isaac hasn’t been sleeping the best the last few nights.  I know he doesn’t like to bother you guys with that stuff so he’s pretty good at hiding it and with everything else going on you might not have noticed.”

“He did seem quieter at dinner,” Peter says.

“Is he in his room?” Noah asks.  “Or Stiles’ room?”

“His for now.  Boyd and Erica are in there too.”

He shares a look with Peter.

“You want to crash with them?” he asks Derek.  “I’ll see if Lydia would be willing to crash in Stiles’ room with Allison and me?”

“And what about me?” Peter asks.  “I have to sleep in my own bed all alone?”

“I figured you and Chris would probably sit up most of the night when you’re not prowling around the house and the porch.”

Peter’s eyes narrow for a moment but he only huffs and leaves the bedroom without another word.  It’s as good as a shouted ‘you’re right’ in Noah’s book.

“Night, Uncle Noah,” Derek says around a yawn.

“Night, Derek.”

He gets Lydia and Allison settled on Stiles’ bed while he and Stiles curl up on the pile of blankets on the floor and the last thing he sees before he falls asleep is Chris peeking in and giving him a smile when their eyes meet.

—

THEN

“Are you sure about this?”

“Noah,” Peter growls.  “Yes.  I am sure.  I’ve been out of that damn hospital for two years now and lived with you the whole time.  I’ve been rebuilding the Hale house with the intent to move into it with you and Stiles and Isaac.  I want you in my life.”

“Okay.  Fine.”  He rolls his eyes.  “Who would have thought that being proposed to would involve being growled at?”

“Um.  Anyone who knows Peter?” Stiles asks from his spot on the couch where he’s watching the conversation with wide-eyed interest.

“Hush, you,” Peter says.  “So?  Noah?  What will it be?”

“Yes.”

He didn’t think there was really any doubt but Peter’s shoulders sink in obvious relief and the smile Peter gives him is bright enough to rival the sun.

It’s the simplest wedding he’s ever been to.  He and Peter and the boys go down to the courthouse.  Sheriff Mills is kind enough to be their witness.  They all sign what they need to sign and head downtown for a late lunch.

Of course that means everything goes to hell less than twenty-four hours later.  Because this is his life and why wouldn’t it work out that way, right?

He and Peter are in the middle of a nice, peaceful breakfast when Peter tenses and moments later Stiles comes bolting into the house, arms flailing and face red with exertion.

“Dad!  Holy shit!  Dad!”

“Language, kiddo.”

“Okay, sorry.  But holy shit!”

“Stiles,” Peter says, grabbing Stiles’ arm and rubbing his thumb against Stiles’ wrist to try to calm him a little bit.  “What is going on?”

“Something attacked Isaac’s dad last night!  Isaac never came to school this morning.”

Peter is asking Stiles questions but all Noah can hear right now is his own heartbeat, blood rushing through his veins and blocking out everything else.  He had dropped Isaac off at his dad’s last night.  One last night at the house before he officially moved in with Noah and Stiles and Peter.  Isaac’s dad hadn’t even contested or protested a single thing.

“We have to find him,” Noah says, interrupting whatever Stiles is saying about Jody being on her way to talk to them before getting called away for another animal attack.  “Peter.”

“We will.”  Peter takes his hand and kisses the back of it.  “I promise you, Noah.  We’ll find him.”

It takes hours longer than either of them like but Peter manages to track Isaac deep into the Preserve.  A task made harder by the fact that, according to Peter, Isaac doesn’t quite smell like Isaac anymore.  Which makes no sense at all.

Until Noah stumbles over a tree root and Isaac is suddenly there, features contorted and eyes glowing as he catches Noah and steadies him as if he weighs nothing.  He blinks down at Isaac a few times just trying to process what he’s seeing and hears a low warning growl coming from a few feet away.  He looks over and groans.

“Aw, hell.”

They have not just one newly bitten teenager, but two.

That night after Peter manages to settle Isaac and Jackson and convince them that they would be perfectly safe to go to sleep, Noah crawls into bed next to Peter and sighs.

“I’m not even going to ask what else is about to go wrong or happen.  Because I’m not dumb enough to tempt fate that way.”

Peter pulls him close and kisses his temple.  “Whatever it is,” he murmurs against Noah’s skin.  “We’ll handle it when it comes to us.”

“Like always.”

“Like always,” Peter agrees.

‘It’ appears four days later.  Four long, long days of the town being on high alert for the wild animal attacking people.  Four even longer nights of Noah driving along the edges of town in his patrol car while Peter does his best to track the rogue Alpha wolf.  Four nearly sleepless days and nights watching Isaac and Jackson attempt to acclimate to being werewolves while Stiles does his best to walk them through what he can while Peter is out.

It’s actually a little surprising that it takes four days before shit hits the fan.  It’s not surprising how fast it all happens once it starts though.

Noah answers a radio call from Jody asking for backup on the road to the old Hale house.  Construction workers heading home for the night reported hearing strange noises in the woods before they left.  He knows Peter is already in that area of the Preserve so he heads straight there.

He and Jody meet up at the turn off to the old Hale house — the old Hale house that is slowly becoming the new Hale house — and he swallows down a ball of déjà vu that lodges in his throat because the last time the two of them were here was… not a night he likes remembering much.  A low, rumbling, unfamiliar growl reaches them and they turn as one towards the noise just as a huge mass launches out of the trees.

Two shots from Jody and it smacks her into her patrol car with a thud that makes Noah’s body ache but without the sickening crack of bones breaking.  He hopes that Jody’s going to walk away bruised and sprained rather than not walk away at all.  That’s about all he has time to think before the thing turns to him and everything he thought he knew about werewolves is suddenly shattered.

The creature in front of him might have been mistaken for human once upon a time but the months and years spent on it’s own has shifted and twisted it into a grotesque caricature that’s far too wolf to be human and just human enough to be uncomfortable to look at.  There’s intelligence in its eyes as it stares him down but not human intelligence.  Just the shine of a predator looking for the best way to take down some juicy prey.

Noah wasn’t raised to be prey and he doesn’t hesitate to holster his gun and pull out the knife coated in wolfsbane instead.  Bringing a knife to a fight where the other party has claws and twice as much muscle as him isn’t ideal but it’s all he’s got until Peter gets here.

He’s bleeding, slowly but steadily, from his side and back and the werewolf is bleeding nearly as much thanks to the cuts lacing it’s arms and legs when it suddenly snarls and twists, clearly done with this game of theirs, and then he’s looking up at the stars high above them as teeth close around his throat.

“Laura, no!” Peter yells.  “Wait for me!  You can’t beat it alone!”

A dark blur knocks the werewolf from him and he stares at Peter’s worried face for what seems like an eternity as two snarling blurs fight each other just out of his sight before he finally sighs and closes his eyes.

—

NOW

“I don’t get it,” Chris is saying as his sister circles him, contemplative look on her face as she tests the knots at his wrists and ankles.  “I know how we were raised.  But why are you so set on eliminating the Hale Pack?  It’s, essentially, a bunch of teenagers.  What threat are they to anyone?”

“Oh, Chris,” Kate coos.  “You always were a little soft around the edges.  Always the bleeding heart.  You hear one little sob story and suddenly you’re advocating for werewolf rights or some shit.”

“At least I’m not the kind of person to contemplate cold-blooded murder.”

Noah tenses himself for the echoing snap of Kate slapping her brother’s face but it never comes.  Instead her laughter fills the small room they’re in and that sound makes his skin crawl.

“I wouldn’t say murder.  That makes them sound innocent.”  Kate deems Chris tied well enough and moves over to stand in front of Noah.  “The Hales weren’t innocent seventeen years ago.  They sure as shit aren’t innocent now.”  She tugs at the rope around Noah’s wrists and then crouches to check the knots at his ankles.  “Tell me, Chris.  What the hell kind of pack is made of a bunch of teenagers?  They’re practically begging for trouble.”

Noah really, really wishes he could kick her right in her smug face.  But he has no idea where Gerard is.  Or Peter.  Or the kids.  He can’t risk it.  Not yet.

“They have a good Alpha.  A strong, dependable one.  They’re good kids.  They’re not about to lose control.  They’re safe.”

Kate pats Noah’s shin as she stands and returns to where Chris is tied up.

“Talia Hale was, by all accounts from people like you, all those things too.  Didn’t keep her safe.  Didn’t keep her pack safe.”  Kate grins, sharp and wicked, and Noah’s stomach plummets.  “In fact.  Her ‘good Alpha’ status is what made it so damn easy in the end.  She was so focused on being the good Alpha with the strong Pack that she couldn’t see it unraveling under her nose.  Her youngest brother run away to college and barely speaking to her.  Her children doubting her.  It was far too easy to lend a sympathetic ear to the poor middle brother whose girlfriend disappeared on him and whose big sister was too busy being an Alpha to make time for him.

“It was almost laughably easy.  He was so heartbroken over his precious little human girl leaving him.  All it took was a little sympathy and he was practically eating out of my hand like the stray he was.”  She glances between the two of them.  “My only regret was managing to let that mutt trick me into getting pregnant.”

“Pregnant?”  He almost wishes he could see the look on Chris’ face right now.  See what kind of soul deep hatred matches the hard tone of his voice.  “Do you mean…”

“Your precious little girl?  Her real daddy’s a werewolf.  Thank god she didn’t get anything from him.  It’d be a shame if I would have had to put her down.  Bad enough she’s even here because of him.”  Kate huffs.  “Why do you think I left her with you?  She’s just a reminder of the Hales I didn’t manage to wipe out the first time.”

“And here I thought you couldn’t be any more horrible of a person,” Noah drawls just to draw her attention from Chris to him.  He can’t see Chris’ face but he can read the tension in his shoulders and knows that he’s only a few seconds away from doing something regrettable.  At least for Chris; there is very little right now that Noah would regret doing.

He just needs to know that Peter and the kids are okay.

“Oh don’t worry, Sheriff dearest.  I’ll make sure that this time I erase every last member of the Hale Pack from existence.”  She gives Chris and him pointed looks.  “From that smug Alpha all the way to the last pathetic humans.”

“So let me get this straight.  You killed Talia Hale and attempted to wipe out her pack simply because they were werewolves.”

“They were a threat to humanity.”

“And you have some sort of superiority slash god complex over that sort of thing,” Noah continues, ignoring her interruptions.  “And in doing so you managed to kill six people.  Four werewolves and two humans.  But you also failed to kill two werewolves, one of whom was an infant, in the fire itself.  And somehow completely missed three werewolves under the age of seventeen that weren’t even there.”

“Kids are such a nuisance.”

“You killed one of my best friends.  You severely injured my other best friend.  You left my son without his birth parents.  You partially — note partially — wiped out one of the oldest packs in this part of the US.  You killed the father of your own child.  For what?  Some misguided delusion that you’re somehow better than them because they were born with genetics you don’t have?”

“They’re freaks!”  Kate stalks to him and leans over him, long hair tickling his face.  “I was protecting the world from monsters like them.”

There’s a crash outside and then the door flies open.  Peter’s body hits the dirty floor at Kate’s feet as Gerard struts inside and kicks the door shut.

“Peter?”  Noah licks his lips as Peter groans in pain, wounds sluggishly bleeding and veins dark with poison.  “The kids?”

“Safe,” Peter whispers.  Kate kicks Peter’s side and he buries his face against the floor as he mutters, “With Jody and Jordan.”

“And you?”

“Oh stop the posturing.”  Gerard rolls his eyes.  “You’re all about to be dead.  It doesn’t matter how he is.”

“Peter?”

“Get me some bloodied throats and a bullet and I’ll be right as rain, sweetheart.”

“Promise?”

Peter laughs wetly as Kate kicks him again.  “Promise.”

Noah closes his eyes when Gerard gives Peter a solid kick himself and takes a deep breath.

He opens his eyes and flexes his arms, ripping the ropes around his wrists like they’re made of wet paper.  The ropes around his ankles fall away just as easily when he twists his legs and stands.  Kate and Gerard spin towards him but neither of them are quick enough to defend themselves.

Gerard is on his back clutching desperately at his torn throat as Kate scoots away from Noah, hands pressed against her ripped chest like she can stop the bleeding somehow.  Noah pauses long enough to snap Gerard’s neck — let no one say he doesn’t take pity on the weak — before he follows Kate’s desperate scrambling.  He smiles darkly when she hits the wall and holds out a bloody hand towards him.

“You—” she gasps.  “You’re…”

“Me?  I’m Sheriff Noah Stilinski.”  He sinks his claws into her throat and leans in close enough she can feel his breath on her cheek as her life drains away.  “Peter Hale’s Left Hand.”

—

THEN

“Uncle Peter?”

“Yes, Derek?”

“Is.  Is he gonna be okay?”

“Noah’s one of the strongest men I know, Derek.  He’ll be okay.”

“Okay.”

“Do me a favor and check on the kids?”

“Okay.  Uncle Peter?”

“Yes, Derek?”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t make Laura come home sooner.  I really tried.”

“It’s not your fault, Derek.  I promise.”

The bedroom door closes and Noah takes a few more seconds to get used to the concept of being awake before he opens his eyes.

“One of the strongest men, huh?”

Peter is kissing him before the words are even out and Noah kisses back just as enthusiastically.

“You’re also one of the dumbest men I know,” Peter mutters against his lips.

“Don’t forget luckiest,” he mutters back.

There’s a warmth in his chest that, while it’s been there for years now, he can finally identify as pack bonds.  He searches them while he and Peter simply press their foreheads together and breathe.

“Laura?”

Peter shakes his head.  “The werewolf injured her too much before I could do anything to help her.  I killed him just as she died.”

“So you’re the Alpha now?”

“It appears that way.”

“How are you doing?”

Peter pulls away enough to meet his gaze and, not for the first or last time, Noah is blown away by the emotion he can read in that gaze.

“Now that you’re awake?  I’ll be okay.  I need you, Noah.  I need you at my side through all this.”

“I’ve always been there.  Even when I was an idiot and disappeared on you.  I was still yours.”  Noah reaches for Peter’s hand and presses a kiss to the wedding ring on his finger.  “Always have been.”

“My Left Hand,” Peter breathes out.

Noah might not be as knowledgeable about packs as he’d like but he knows what that entails.  Knows the duties.  Knows the weight he’ll be expected to carry.

But for Peter?  There’s no question.

“Yes.”  

He loves his kids, loves the ones he doesn’t even have yet but is sure will be part of this family, this pack, before long.  He will love and care for every single one of them.  He’ll give his life for them if necessary.  But at the end of the day there is only one person left on this earth he’ll give his life to and he’s sitting on the bed next to Noah staring down at him like he’s never quite seen him this clearly before.

“Mine,” Peter whispers.

“Yours,” Noah agrees.

—

NOW

Noah walks the streets of his hometown, smiling politely and waving when people call out greetings to him, and wonders how he ever thought he’d wind up anywhere else in the end.  No matter how much he had tried to run, how far he tried to go, Beacon Hills would have always dragged him back one way or another.  There’s probably hundreds of thousands of alternate universes and if there’s one where he doesn’t come back to Beacon Hills he’s sure it’s an anomaly of some kind.

He watches a couple come out of the drugstore, arms around each other’s waists, and smiles at the sight.

Peter glances back as he slips his hand down into Chris’ jeans pocket and gives Noah a wink.  Chris doesn’t even falter.  Just keeps walking down the sidewalk with Peter tucked against his side.

“Come on, Sheriff,” Chris calls back as he and Peter reach the crosswalk.  “I’m sure I owe you a coffee or something.”

“I could go for a coffee,” he says, mostly to himself.

“I think I might have a shake,” Peter says when Noah catches up to them.  “It’s been a long time since I’ve had one and I remember that the diner always had really good shakes.”

Noah laughs and wraps his arm around Chris’ shoulder as they make their way across the street towards the diner.  He can’t think of a better way to spend the first day of summer vacation.  Even if the three of them aren’t in school anymore.