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Stiles smiled as he looked down at his lovers, their limbs tangled together in exhaustion. It had been a trying day, finally defeating the coven of witches that had been terrorizing the town for a few weeks, and as the pack went to their separate homes, Stiles was more than happy to let out his excess energy with his partners. If you had told him that he'd be quite literally in bed with the once-enemies, he'd have laughed in your face. But now? He shared a welcome sort of domestic bliss with both Chris Argent and Peter Hale. He decided to not analyze the connotations of his partners both being of a certain age. Instead, he was continually amazed at how the two of them had overcome their own traumas and prejudices to end up together, only to seal the deal with the fledgling young mage of Beacon Hills.
Before too long, Stiles shook his head, knowing the brief sleeping spell he'd placed would be wearing off soon enough. Chris and Peter didn't typically mind when he used his magic on them, but they did prefer to know ahead of time. For such a harmless thing, Stiles figured they wouldn't be too upset; the idea of surprising them outweighed the worry of their reactions. After quite literally being trained from birth of the dangers in the supernatural world, both of them were fairly light sleepers, and usually at least one of them would've pulled Stiles back into bed when they sensed him leaving.
Finally tearing his eyes off of his prize, Stiles pulled on a loose pair of sweatpants and the first shirt he saw on the floor. He almost laughed when he noticed it was one of Peter's, distinctive in the deep v-neck style. A scoff was all he allowed, and he was downstairs in the span of a few seconds. Carefully opening the drawer of the old coffee table his dad had given him when he moved out, Stiles pulled out the leather-bound journal. He ran a finger along the cover, worn embossing still raised after all these years: Gajos Grimoire. Stiles smiled to himself, remembering playing with his Great-Gram on family visits, never realizing the games they played were tinged with magic. Not until she'd given him this book as a child, passed down among the generations.
"Stiles?" A voice called out from up the stairs. Sleep weighed it down, the spell still holding the owner down.
Stiles turned toward the stairs, glancing up into the mirror to see himself. He gave a small smile, knowing this was right. He nodded and ran back up, trying to be quiet about it, thumping into the door anyway. Peter's head lifted at the sound, and he blinked his eyes, clearly groggy. His face was scrunched in confusion as he watched Stiles rejoin him in bed, and his hand drifted under the shirt on instinct.
"This mine?" Peter asked, leaning his head down on Stiles' shoulder once he'd settled. Peter had to pull himself up to sit next to Stiles against the headboard, and he stretched his arm across Stiles' torso to run a hand through Chris' hair. It ended up resulting in an odd hug, with Peter nestled against Stiles and reaching for their third.
"Just grabbed the first one I saw," Stiles admitted. He leaned over to press a kiss to Peter's head before reaching his own hand down to rub at Chris' shoulders. The touches worked to wake Chris up, and he was alert quicker than Peter had been.
"Morning," Chris grumbled, confused at the sight in front of him. It wasn't typical for all three of them to be awake and in bed when sex wasn't happening.
"Good morning," Stiles said, leaning in to kiss Chris as he also straightened up, mirroring Peter in leaning against Stiles' opposite shoulder.
As his partners gave him the space he needed to talk, Stiles found himself a bit lost for words. He could feel his heart beating in his chest, but Peter didn't say anything about it, even though he undoubtedly heard the shift. Instead, Peter wrapped a hand around the one Stiles was using to thumb at the corner of the journal he still held, showing his support. Likewise, Chris squeezed Stiles' leg reassuringly.
"You're probably wondering why we're gathered here today," Stiles started awkwardly.
Peter snorted, amused. He lifted his head and nuzzled at Stiles' neck, in just the right spot that he knew would pull the cutest little whimpers out of him.
"Stop distracting me," Stiles whined, biting his lip. "We have plenty of time for that later."
"What do you have there?" Chris asked, trying to be helpful while ignoring Peter. He turned his head to press a kiss to Stiles' arm before leaning against it.
"It's an old family journal, one I had put aside for a few years and forgotten about." He moved his hands so that the cover was legible, his mother's family name clear across the front.
"Gajos Grimoire?" Peter read out, tracing the letters with his fingertips. Stiles nodded, not sure what else there was to say.
"I've heard that name," Chris said, sitting up taller. When Stiles looked over to him, his face was a mask of thought.
"You have?" Peter asked, leaning forward to look at Chris himself.
"Just... hold on a second," Chris muttered before leaving the bed. He pulled on his pants from the floor, not bothering with a shirt before quickly walking out of the room.
Stiles turned back toward Peter and shook his head, the question shared between them. Peter just shrugged and leaned in for a kiss, pulling Stiles into a hug after their lips met. Stiles wanted, needed, more contact, and when he broke the kiss he swung his leg over Peter to nestle into his lap. There wasn't anything sexual about the movement, simply his need to be closer. Peter chuckled slightly before his mouth was captured by Stiles in another kiss. They continued like that, quietly making out, until Chris cleared his throat upon his arrival. They broke apart, and Stiles leaned back but remained where he was seated.
"I knew the name was familiar, but I had to make sure before I said anything." Chris sat back down on the bed, this time cross-legged so he could face both of them. "Look, here." He pointed to the page he had open in his own journal, its pages clearly worn just like the cover of Stiles'.
"What is this?" Stiles asked, noting the vague sketch of a grove of trees above some text regarding the power of witches and Nemeta.
"This is my own family book," Chris explained. "This is a book of supernatural creatures and phenomena, handed down my mother's line. When Kate died, or at least when we thought she passed, I inherited the book. I never had a chance to give it to Allison, but I keep it with me at all times. Your family, the Gajos line of witches and mages, has been a known entity to the Argent line for centuries."
"Huh," Stiles breathed out. He held open both books, looking at how worn each was.
It was miraculous that of all the coincidences possible, this one would happen. A mage and a hunter, in bed with a wolf, holding the heirlooms of their family legacies.They sat in silence for a while, letting Stiles parse the texts in amazement, the only sound between them the pages turning. Peter and Chris looked at each other with fond smiles, amused and in love with the boy between them.