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Noah had been worried about a lot of things when Stiles finally admitted to him that he was in a relationship with Peter Hale. The age difference and species difference were both definitely included, but chief among Noah’s concerns had been the way Peter always tried to play all the angles. Stiles was twenty-two years old, he needed the freedom to figure his life out. Noah had spent a good week mentally composing the talk he’d need to give Peter if he tried to dominate Stiles’s life.
Somehow, it hadn’t occurred to Noah that Stiles would be the possessive one.
In hindsight, maybe he should have realized. When Stiles decided something was his, he tended to hang on with both hands and it took a hell of a lot to pry him free. But he hadn’t been like this with Lydia or Malia or the men and women he’d dated upon reaching college.
Noah wonders if that says more about Stiles’s relationship with Peter, or his relationships with everyone else.
For now, he watches as Stiles scowls across the backyard of the rebuilt Hale House at Peter and the very attractive man who is engaging him in conversation.
“Who is that?” Noah asks, because maybe reminding Stiles where everyone stands will help.
“Mark Lewis,” Stiles says immediately. “The Lewis Pack has been angling for an alliance. That’s probably why he’s buttering up Peter.”
“That means it’s business, right?” Noah says.
“Sure,” Stiles says, but then Mark takes a half step closer to Peter and suddenly Stiles is striding across the lawn, sliding into the space next to Peter and putting an arm around him even as he offers Mark a handshake and a sharp smile.
Maybe, Noah thought wryly, he ought to give that speech he’d practiced to Stiles instead.