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The living room was crowded.
Chris shifted in his seat, trying to look casual and not like he was having a minor cardiac episode. Noah stood behind him, calm and collected as always, one hand resting on Chris’s shoulder like a grounding wire. Peter was sprawled across the arm of the couch, legs stretched out, posture so relaxed he might as well have been at a spa instead of about to drop a relationship bomb on the pack.
Allison leaned against the doorframe with her arms crossed and an arched brow. Lydia perched beside her on the arm of a chair, already smirking like she knew everything - which, knowing Lydia, she probably did. Derek sat on the opposite couch with his arms folded, already scowling as if anticipating drama. Stiles paced like a caged ferret with caffeine withdrawal, and Scott sat cross-legged on the floor, hands in his lap, watching everyone with that classic can’t we all just get along? expression.
“So,” Peter drawled, breaking the silence, “we gathered you all here because we’re in a throuple.”
Chris choked.
Stiles froze. “You’re in a what now?”
Peter smiled, all teeth and wickedness. “You heard me.”
“I, what, NO!” Stiles pointed at Peter with both hands like he could physically banish him. “Absolutely not. Nope. You? With him? And him?” He gestured frantically between Peter, Chris, and Noah.
Lydia laughed softly.
“Peter,” Chris sighed, already regretting letting the man speak first. “Maybe let us explain with less…”
“Innuendo?” Noah offered helpfully.
Peter grinned. “What? I didn’t even say anything dirty. Yet.”
“Oh my God,” Stiles groaned, pressing both hands to his face. “Dad. No. Please say he’s kidding.”
Noah stepped forward calmly. “He’s not. It’s not a joke, Stiles. The three of us are… seeing each other.”
Stiles blinked like he’d just heard the world was flat.
Chris tried to salvage it. “It’s new. Complicated. But consensual. And -” he glanced toward Peter, who wiggled his eyebrows, “ - somewhat functional.”
“Oh, I function beautifully,” Peter murmured.
Chris rubbed his temples. “Peter, please.”
Allison cleared her throat. “Honestly? Not surprised.”
All heads turned.
She shrugged. “I mean, there was always… something between you and Peter, Dad. Even back in the day. Tension. Weird stares. The occasional stabbings. I figured it was either unresolved sexual tension or mutual homicidal fantasies.”
Peter gave her a respectful nod. “Smart girl.”
Chris looked like he wanted to fall through the floor.
Lydia, ever the queen of timing, added with a smirk, “I saw this coming a mile away. Honestly, I’m more surprised it took you this long. Peter's practically been undressing Mr. Stilinski with his eyes for months.”
Noah didn’t even flinch. “At least he keeps his teeth to himself.”
“Mostly,” Peter added.
Stiles made a strangled noise in the back of his throat. “Stop. Talking. About. Teeth.”
Derek, who’d been watching all of this unfold with the patience of a man who knew better than to get involved, finally sighed. “Stiles. Breathe.”
Stiles spun on him. “You’re okay with this?!”
Derek blinked. “They’re adults.”
“That’s not an answer!”
Derek gave him a look. “Do you want me to say I’m not okay with it? Will that make you feel better?”
Stiles opened his mouth, then closed it, and huffed. “No. But also yes. But also, ugh!”
Peter tipped his head. “Stiles, darling, if you’re jealous, I assure you, there’s always room in the bed for four --”
“PETER.” three voices barked at once—Chris, Noah, and even Lydia, though she was laughing.
Peter raised both hands in mock surrender. “I’m just saying, clarity is important. Consent, communication, and curiosity. The three Cs.”
“That’s not the three Cs,” Chris muttered.
Scott, who’d been remarkably silent, finally spoke. “I think what matters is that you’re happy. And you trust each other.”
Noah smiled softly. “We do. We’re figuring it out.”
Scott nodded. “Then… that’s good enough for me.”
Stiles made a whining noise. “Scott, seriously?”
“I mean… it’s weird, yeah,” Scott admitted. “But it’s them. Have you met Beacon Hills? We don’t do normal.”
Peter looked smug again. “See? Even Alpha Pup gets it.”
Chris groaned under his breath. “Why are you like this?”
“Beautifully, chaotically queer?” Peter offered.
Lydia clapped once, delighted. “That’s going on a T-shirt.”
“Please don’t encourage him,” Chris muttered.
Allison stepped into the room, arms still crossed but her expression warm. “Look, I know this probably feels huge, and messy, and awkward--”
“Because it is,” Stiles muttered.
“--but also,” she continued, “we’re a pack. Packs protect their own. No matter what it looks like.”
Peter actually looked... touched for a second. It passed, of course, replaced by another smirk. “And here I was worried you’d all react badly.”
Chris snorted. “You were hoping for chaos.”
Peter winked. “Maybe just a little.”
Stiles plopped down into a chair, arms flailing. “I just need a second. Or twenty. Maybe a shot of whiskey. Or seven.”
Derek leaned over and rubbed his back in slow, awkward circles. “You’ll be fine.”
Lydia glanced between them and smirked again. “Well, this makes you and Derek the most boring couple here.”
“Good,” Stiles grumbled. “Boring is safe. Boring doesn’t involve Peter Hale’s tongue near my father.”
“Hey,” Peter said, sounding almost offended, “I’m excellent with my tongue.”
Chris looked like he wanted to melt into the carpet.
Noah was unfazed. “He’s not wrong.”
“Dad!” Stiles wailed.
Allison snorted.
Peter beamed.
Scott laughed under his breath and shook his head. “We really are one messed-up family.”
Chris stood finally, brushing his palms against his thighs and taking a steadying breath. “Look. I know this is… a lot. It wasn’t something we planned. But we care about each other. And we’re not asking for approval. Just… honesty. Support.”
“And no stake through the gut?” Peter added helpfully.
“Not helping,” Chris muttered.
Stiles finally looked up, eyes darting between the three men. “So what, you all live together now? Share a bed? What does that look like?”
Peter grinned like the devil. “Big. Wide. Very accommodating.”
Chris buried his face in his hands.
Noah just took a sip of his coffee and said, “Alberta King.”
“What?” Stiles blinked.
“The bed,” Chris said weakly. “Peter bought an Alberta King.”
Stiles blinked again, then gave a broken little laugh. “You three are insane.”
“Probably,” Peter said.
“But also happy,” Noah added. “Surprisingly.”
Peter leaned against the wall beside him, tone softer now. “It’s not about the label, Stiles. It’s about what works. And this… works.”
Chris nodded. “It’s messy. But it works.”
Stiles exhaled and finally looked less like he was going to explode. “Alright. Fine. I still reserve the right to be disturbed, but… I’ll get over it.”
Peter clapped. “That’s all we ask.”
“Also,” Stiles muttered as he stood, “I’m going to bleach my brain.”
Lydia patted his shoulder as he walked past. “Good luck. Peter’s images are notoriously clingy.”
Peter winked.
Later, as the pack dispersed…
Chris lingered at the door, eyes searching Noah’s face. “You okay?”
Noah nodded. “Are you?”
Chris hesitated. “I didn’t think it would be that hard to say out loud. But it was.”
Peter’s arms slid around both of them from behind. “You did great, sweetheart.”
Noah rolled his eyes. “You were a menace.”
Peter nuzzled into the crook of Chris’s neck. “I’m always a menace.”
Chris sighed, letting himself lean back into them both. “Yeah. And somehow, I still love you.”
Peter blinked. “You said the L word.”
Chris smiled faintly. “Yeah. I did.”
Noah grinned. “Good. Because I was about to.”
Peter looked between them. His usual grin faltered for just a moment. Then he pulled them both tighter and murmured, “Guess I’ll have to say it back, huh?”
“You will,” Noah said.
Peter smirked. “Eventually. Now let’s go break in that ridiculously oversized bed again. For emotional processing.”
Chris groaned. “You are the worst.”
Peter grinned. “And yet you picked me.”