Chapter Text
The last thing Peter expected walking into the station on Saturday evening was to be shot at. Already pissed off and done with humanity before his first three cups of coffee, getting hit right between his eyes did not help matters.
Peter growled, bending down to snatch up the rubber band with the first suggestion of claws and made a bee-line towards Carter’s desk, stopping only when he saw the crowd of deputies surrounding a young boy in his brother’s desk chair. He hadn’t even been working as a dispatcher for the Beacon County Sheriff’s Office for a month, but he was pretty sure the deputies shouldn’t be shirking work to entertain a child.
“Carter, what are you doing?” he asked, approaching the group.
“Peter! I’m just having fun with lil’ Stiles here” Carter answered with a smile. The boy’s face scrunched up in obvious displeasure at being called ‘little,’ but he didn’t argue.
Peter rolled his eyes and attempted to walk past the crowd to get to the break room so he could put up his lunch.
“Hey, Stiles. Wanna see a trick?” Carter asked.
“Is Peter gonna help?” The boy grinned. Peter wanted to whine for mercy, but there wasn’t anything he could do about it when Carter stepped into his path.
He plunged his fingers into Peter’s hair, fluffing it as much as possible as he pretended to dig for something. Peter closed his eyes and tried to remember that he loved the idiot and that gutting him in front of witnesses, particularly deputies, was a bad idea.
“Aha!” Carter crowed as he pulled his hands away and triumphantly showed Stiles the quarters he had discovered.
Stiles gasped, eyes wide, as he took in the coins in Carter’s palms. He turned that gaze to Peter and scrambled to climb up on the desk so he was kneeling eye-to-eye with him.
Peter pulled his head back and raised an eyebrow as the boy leaned closer, a wide, unnerving smile stretching his lips. Stiles followed Carter’s example and plunged his fingers into Peter’s already disarrayed locks.
“Stiles, what are you doing?” a woman’s voice rang out. Peter turned to see Claudia Stilinski rushing toward them. She picked Stiles up, hefting his weight with surprising strength for such a petite woman as she tugged his fingers from Peter’s hair. “I’m so sorry, Peter.”
“But, Mom!” Stiles protested before leaning in close to his mother’s ear. “His hair is full of secrets,” he attempted to whisper. Everyone in the room heard him anyway and laughed.
“It’s because he’s actually the devil,” Rita offered.
“It’s no problem, Mrs. Stilinski,” Peter responded, smiling as he stepped down hard on his sister’s foot.
Claudia smiled. “It’s his bedtime anyway.”
Stiles groaned, flopping uselessly in his mother’s arms in an attempt to make himself dead weight. “I’m six, Mom. I don’t need a bed time.”
“Yeah. I’m not buying that, but good try, Stiles.”
“But, Mom! I wanna stay with Peter and his magic hair,” he complained as his mom finally dropped him on the floor.
Peter chuckled and ruffled Stiles’ hair. “You can come see me again, Stiles. But you can only do that if you actually go home first.”
Stiles narrowed his eyes at him as if sensing what he was trying to do. Then a huge grin split his face, and Peter felt like he’d walked into a trap. “Okay! I’ll come see you tomorrow.”
Claudia tensed up a bit, eyes sliding suspiciously to where her son was bouncing on the soles of his feet. For a moment, Peter thought her smile might slip onto the floor. She looked from her energetic child to Peter and back two or three times before placing a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Sure thing, sweetie. Let’s head home for now. Give Mr. Hale time to stock up on aspirin.”
She waved at the assembled officers before turning about and leading her son to his father’s office, no doubt to say goodnight before they headed home.
“Wow,” Rita said. “You’re super screwed.”
“What?”
Carter snickered, “Stiles was nice to you. He’s never just nice, Peter. I mean, he’s a good kid, but he’s also an asshole…. Kinda like you, actually. It’s a match made in heaven. You’re never gonna get rid of him now.”
Peter rethought the possibility of gutting him then and there.
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Peter walked into work and immediately knew something wasn’t right. It was always noisy at shift change, but the station was completely silent. He listened harder and heard more heartbeats than usual in the dispatch office. He went to the break room to put up his lunch before heading to where everyone was gathered. He paused for a moment, trying to figure out what was going on before he finally entered and then stopped as soon as he got through the door. All of the deputies and Chief Deputy Stilinski were standing along the back wall, staring at his station.
Stiles was sitting in his chair, facing the door. As soon as they locked eyes, Stiles grinned. Slowly. It was surprisingly wolf-like. Peter had never felt like prey before. He didn’t like it. He ignored everyone else in the room and walked to his station. He turned his chair around and sat down, making Stiles yelp as he suddenly had a lapful of adult and causing the room to erupt with laughter.
“Peter!” he whined as he started hitting him. “Get off! You’re heavy!”
“And you’re in my chair, Stiles. What else was I supposed to do?”
“Pick me up and move me!” was the boy’s laughed answer.
"Well, if I must,” Peter said with a put-upon sigh. He stood and reached out toward the boy.
Stiles grabbed Peter’s left hand in both of his, halting the werewolf’s movements. He looked curiously at the large palm held in his hands for a moment before looking up at the hand’s owner. Stiles took a second or two to study Peter’s face before nodding.
Peter’s brow furrowed in confusion just before Stiles sank his teeth into Peter’s wrist.
“STILES!” John yelled as he and the other Hales in the room rushed over to them. “Jesus! We do not bite people!” He grabbed his son and pulled him away easily as Stiles released his grip on Peter. “I am so sorry, Peter. Did he draw blo--Jesus. Stiles!” He held his son over the nearest wastebasket. “Spit right now!”
While John was busy with his child, the Hales gathered around a frozen Peter. Aaron grabbed tissues and pressed them to the wound as they blocked their brother from the department’s view. “Shit,” he whispered.
“Did you guys see that?” Carter asked.
“Yes, we saw it, Carter,” Rita bit out as she moved Aaron’s hand to look at the wound. Blood was still oozing from it and it showed no signs of healing though it should have already been closing.
Carter swallowed audibly before speaking again. “That looks like a mat-”
“I know what it looks like,” Peter growled. He had felt the tell-tale zing of heat race through his body as his blood was drawn. He had heard from his parents what mating bites felt like though he had never expected to experience it.
“Peter, calm down,” Rita said softly, grabbing the back of his neck and squeezing gently. “You can’t shift here. I know this is a big surprise, but you have got to calm down.”
“You think?” Peter snapped, glaring.
“Peter, Stiles has something he’d like to say to you.”
The Hales broke out of their huddle, Peter now holding the tissue against his wrist, to look at the Chief Deputy and the child in his arms.
Stiles’ face was wet, his expression obstinate, and he clenched his jaw, refusing to say a word.
John sighed. “Stiles, say you’re sorry,” he whispered.
“But I’m not sorry, Dad! I had to bite him!” Stiles defended angrily.
“Why did you have to bite me, Stiles?” Peter asked, the softness of his voice surprising the others.
Stiles lifted his chin and locked gazes with Peter. “Cuz you’re mine.”
Rita saw John gearing up for a scolding and quickly interrupted. “But why did you have to bite him for that, Stiles?”
The boy looked lost for a moment and shrugged. “I just did.”
“John, considering the circumstances, I think I should be allowed to go home, don’t you?” Peter asked, almost saccharine sweet.
“Absolutely,” he agreed, recognizing a potential lawsuit when he heard one. “Paid, of course.”
Peter nodded at him and took a step toward the pair when he noticed Stiles’ eyes filling with tears. He wiped the first escapee away with his thumb as he shushed the boy. “Don’t cry. I’m not angry, Stiles. I just need to go home tonight—like you do. I promise you’ll see me again very soon. Alright, sweetheart?” Stiles nodded, tears still spilling slowly down his cheeks. Peter leaned forward, gently rubbing his freshly shaven jaw against the the boy’s still wet face as he gave him a half hug. It should have been more awkward considering he was almost hugging John too, but it wasn’t. He pressed a soft kiss to the dark hair as he pulled away. “A little bite isn’t going to make me stop liking you, Stiles.” Peter bopped the upturned nose with the tip of his finger and smiled. “Not angry, sweetheart.”
Stiles sniffled a few times before nodding with a slow grin. “Okay.”
“Thank you, Peter,” John said, shifting Stiles but unable to move him to his other side due to his duty belt. “And again, I’m so sorry that he bit you.”
Peter shook his head. “I hope I won’t be, but thank you for letting me go home tonight. I need some time.”
“Least I could do.”
Peter nodded again and turned to his siblings, noticing that at some point, the unnecessary crowd in the office had dissipated, leaving only his fellow dispatchers behind.
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When he arrived at the Hale House with his siblings, Peter wasn’t surprised to see Talia on the front porch, waiting.
“I thought you had work tonight.”
“I did, but something happened,” Peter responded, not moving from beside his car.
“I figured.”
Their siblings walked past their Alpha, each accepting a brief scent marking in the form of a cheek kiss as they passed. Talia came down the steps, and Peter fell into step with her as she entered the woods. They walked for a few minutes before he spoke up.
“I have a mate.”
“You found her?” Talia asked excitedly, slipping from Alpha to sister.
“He found me.”
Talia stopped. “Please tell me he isn’t a criminal.”
“Not yet—though I’m not going to hold my breath on that.”
He extended his arm, showing her the still-healing mark. She stared.
“Peter… You kinda rushed into this, don’t you think?”
“Oh, he didn’t ask or even acknowledge the bond before biting me,” Peter informed her, delighted at her shriek of outrage.
“Peter! I can’t believe that happened! How did you let that happen?”
“He caught me off guard,” he explained. “I certainly wasn’t expecting the Chief Deputy’s six-year-old son to bite me when he asked me to pick him up.”
“Six-year-old—” She cut herself off and looked at her brother, as if gauging how serious he was. Something about his expression must have been sufficient to convince her he was telling the truth because she began laughing.
Peter frowned. “Talia, this isn’t funny.”
“No. No, it isn’t.” She gasped for breath before it turned into giggles. “It’s hilarious!”
He shoved her, and she fell to the ground with no resistance, still laughing.
“Talia!”
Her laughs tapered off as she slowly regained control. “No, I know it isn’t. If he were a wolf, I’d have to call the Alphas. But it’s a human child, and he recognized you as his mate, and you didn’t notice anything.” She started giggling again.
Peter rolled his eyes. “Yes, Talia. It’s fucking hysterical that the human child of a sheriff’s deputy with no connection to the supernatural is now mated to one of your enforcers and that, according to Pack Law, he’s ours. I suppose we should just go to his house and pick him up right now.”
Talia abruptly stopped laughing. “Oh shit.”
“But, Talia, I thought it was hilarious,” Peter responded, voice full of sugar and innocence.
“Yeah, yeah.” She stood up and looked at her brother’s wrist again. She grabbed it and gently rubbed her thumb over the mark, ignoring Peter’s minute flinch. She sighed. “You always were the difficult one. It figures your mate would be just like you… You’re sure?”
“Yes. It’s not healing the way it should, and I felt it, what mom always talked about.”
She nodded. She knew what he meant. “Alright. Let’s go figure out what we’re going to do about this.” She wrapped an arm around his shoulders and ushered him back toward the house.