Work Text:
It’s become more or less standard for the pack’s enemies to choose Peter as their first target. Some because he’s the most isolated from the rest of the pack, some because he’s the most dangerous. (They underestimate Stiles.) This means he allows himself to be kidnapped—it is the fastest way to gather intel—on a regular basis. And every time, Stiles comes to get him.
Until now, he’d assumed that Stiles was using magic to locate him, but this particular group had warded against that, and Stiles found him anyway. Peter is still puzzling over it when he climbs into the passenger side of Stiles’ jeep. Stiles’ phone is on the seat. Peter scoops it up before sitting and is startled when Stiles lunges for it. He jerks it back out of reach instinctively, a grin curving his lips at Stiles’s annoyed and slightly worried expression.
“Oh, do we have something interesting here?” Peter drawls.
Stiles scowls. “You won’t be able to unlock it anyway.”
“Really?” Peter smirks. Werewolf speed and strength is more than enough to seize one of Stiles’ hands and press his finger to the sensor. Stiles yelps, jerking his hand back, but the phone is already unlocked.
There’s a GPS tracking app on the screen. It’s showing their location, and a blinking dot.
The app is for pets.
“Did you tag me?” Peter demands aghast.
Stiles’ eyes narrow. “Be grateful. How many times has it saved your furry butt by now?”
Peter groans. Tagged. Like a dog. How humiliating.