The Silver Sheriff Star

In a world where Chris got divorced from Victoria before the Hale Fire, he only move to Beacon Hills with Allison during the deadpool, because Chris learned that Kate was still alive and feels responsible for his sister’s actions.

With the sheriff in the hospital after an assassin’s attack, Chris takes over as the interim sheriff.

Stiles doesn't like any of that. At first.

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Work Text:

Teen Wolf || Stargent || Teen Wolf || The Silver Sheriff Star || Teen Wolf || Stargent || Teen Wolf

Title: The Silver Sheriff Star – Stiles Summer Stories 2026

Tags: m/m, canon divergence, season 4, Erica Lives, Boyd Lives, Pack Alpha Peter, Spark Stiles, hurt/comfort, family feels, fluff, f/f, m/f

Main Pairing: Chris/Stiles

Side Pairings: Boyd/Erica, Allison/Malia/Kira, Noah/Peter

Teen Wolf Characters: Mieczysław 'Stiles' Stilinski, Chris Argent, Peter Hale, Derek Hale, Erica Reyes, Vernon Boyd, Isaac Lahey, Allison Argent, Malia Tate, Kira Yukimura, Jordan Parrish, Noah Stilinski

Writer’s Month 2026 Prompts: stars + cave

Summary: In a world where Chris got divorced from Victoria before the Hale Fire, he only move to Beacon Hills with Allison during the deadpool, because Chris learned that Kate was still alive and feels responsible for his sister’s actions. With the sheriff in the hospital after an assassin’s attack, Chris takes over as the interim sheriff. Stiles doesn't like any of that. At first.

The Silver Sheriff Star

Stiles Summer Stories 2026

An assassin had landed his dad in the hospital. It sounded like something out of an outrageous spy novel and not like a very normal thing to happen in their lives. But with a Deadpool out on all supernatural creatures of Beacon County, assassins were flocking to town, thinking they could make easy money. And as the sheriff, Noah was far too close to danger.

Stiles’ breath hitched a little, his iron grip on his dad’s hand tightening even more. Like he could will the man back into wakefulness. But he wasn’t getting any kind of reaction. Only the constant beeping of the machines. Stiles squeezed his eyes shut tightly as the memory of that very same beeping fading away when his mother had died invaded his mind.

“Easy there, pup. He’s already injured enough, you don’t need to break his hand.”

Stiles’ eyes snapped open when soft hands tried to pry his hand off his father’s. Peter offered him a dim smile that didn’t reach his eyes. Stiles had never seen a tired werewolf before. Their natural healing ability erased all physical signs of exhaustion quicker than they could set in. Normally. It seemed that when a formerly comatose werewolf had to sit at the bedside of his comatose mate, that kept him awake enough that the exhaustion actually showed.

“He needs to wake up,” Stiles said with emphasis.

Peter hummed his agreement, his eyes hooded as he stared at Noah. They both fell silent for long minutes, only the deafening sound of the beeping machines providing background noise. Stiles hated it. He hated the sterile scent. He hated the white walls. He hated the rough sheets. He hated the hospital gown on his dad. He hated the tubes, even as he knew they kept his dad hydrated and breathing. He hated being here, again, all over again.

“I think it’s time you go home, Stiles,” Peter whispered, his hand on Stiles’ shoulder.

“Fuck all the way off, Stepwolf,” Stiles warned sharply.

“Stiles,” Peter said with more sharpness of his own. “You haven’t left the hospital in a week. You’re missing school, sleep, actual nutritious food. The packs are worried about you. Melissa is worried about you. I am worried about you. Your father would be worried about you.”

Stiles really wanted to punch Peter. Who was he to tell Stiles to go home? To try and guilt-trip him like that? His dad was in the hospital, because of Stiles. He wasn’t waking up. It had been a week and he still hadn’t woken up and his condition didn’t improve. If Stiles left and his dad died alone in a hospital room, Stiles would never be able to forgive himself.

“Okay,” Derek’s sigh surprised Stiles and had him turn around to face the Sourwolf. “Peter is right. You really do need to be physically removed from the premises.”

“Fuck you. Fuck you both. I’m not going anywhere,” Stiles sneered at them, even as Derek picked him up. “Put me down or I swear I am putting wolfsbane in your fucking tea!”

Stiles started kicking and hitting Derek, but the wolf didn’t let that stop him. “Stiles. It’s been a week and you haven’t left the hospital. You need fresh air, fresh clothes and food that doesn’t come from a vending machine.”

"The only thing I need is dad!” Stiles spat, hitting his fists against Derek’s back as he had been slung over the wolf’s shoulder. “Put me down right now, Derek!”

But Derek just wrapped his arms tightly around Stiles’ legs to stop him from thrashing so much. “You missed school. You’re worrying both packs. Go home, Stiles.”

Stiles hissed like a feral cat when he was deposited into the Camaro. “This is a kidnapping. I’m going to have you arrested for child abduction!”

“You’re seventeen, you’re hardly a child,” Derek snorted. “And the sheriff will dismiss the charges as soon as he wakes up because he’ll approve. Come on. You’re worrying yourself to the bone.”

Derek started the car and drove them away. Stiles noted the lack of Peter. Fucking hypocrite. Telling Stiles to go home but staying in the hospital himself. Stiles glared and crossed his arms.

“What if he dies while I’m not there?” Stiles asked softly, terrified, when they reached the house.

Derek parked the car and turned to look at him with soft eyes. “Peter is drawing his pain. He’ll be able to tell when… if your father takes a turn for the worst. He’d get you. But Stiles, you can’t live in your father’s hospital room. And I don’t think you want to either. The deadpool is still active, the Benefactor is still out there, the packs you care about so much are still in danger.”

Glowering, Stiles averted his eyes. Vengeance. Taking the Benefactor out would be satisfying, he imagined. It was because of Stiles’ name on the damn list that his dad had been hurt in the first place. Because three assassins had broken into the sheriff’s house to try and kill his son. Stiles’ Spark was powerful enough to end them but not before his dad had caught two bullets.

“It’s my fault,” Stiles’ voice was far too small and broken. “He got hurt because of me.”

“No,” Derek frowned at him and pulled him into a hug. “It’s not your fault, Stiles. It’s the fault of the assassins. It’s the fault of the Benefactor. If you want to, you can also blame Peter for not being home to protect Noah. Because it’s what Peter is doing too.”

“It’s not Peter’s fault,” Stiles argued with a hard glare. “He was out, trying to track down the Desert Wolf to protect Malia!”

“It’s not your fault either,” Derek pointed out. “For what? For existing? For being a Spark? Something entirely out of your control?”

Stiles flinched away and glowered a little. “I just… I… I can’t lose him, Derek.”

When Stiles looked up again, his eyes were wet. Derek hugged him again. The sheer amount of Sourwolf hugs was concerning, because Derek Hale was not a hugger. Stiles clung onto him a little harder. Over the months, the two had become close friends. They’d saved each other’s lives often enough to forge a bond that Stiles liked to think of as unbreakable.

“Go inside. Take a shower. Eat a proper dinner. Fall into a research hole. Text the pack. Take a nap,” Derek instructed. “Take care of yourself.”

“Famously bad at that,” Stiles snorted.

“Then it’s good you’re not living alone. Get out of the car,” Malia ordered as she knocked on the car’s window. “Kira made sushi. Boyd brought brownies. Move.”

Stiles blinked surprised at his sort of stepsister. Ironically, she was actually living here unlike the Stepwolf. After the two of them had gotten out of Eichen House, Malia had kind of moved into the Stilinski home. Not officially at first, but when one sneaked in every single night? They lived there. Peter and Noah had only gotten together during the Nogitsune, it was honestly still relatively new. They’d been dating for a couple of months.

“You had me at Boyd’s brownies,” Stiles forced a small smile and got out of the car.

Malia was part of the McCall Pack, so was her girlfriend Kira. Scott’s pack. After he became a True Alpha. But Boyd and Erica were part of the Hale Pack. Even though Derek had given up his Alpha spark to save his sister, the pack still stood strong, thanks to Peter killing Ennis and reclaiming an Alpha spark of his own. There were Scott, Lydia, Jackson, Ethan, Malia, Kira and the newest addition in the form of Liam in the McCall Pack, and Peter, Derek, Cora, Isaac, Boyd and Erica in the Hale Pack. And Stiles, with one foot in each pack.

“Batman!” Erica yelped the moment he entered the house. “Ew. You reek. Shower first.”

“Brownie first,” Boyd argued and handed Stiles a brownie. “For leaving the hospital.”

Stiles narrowed his eyes at the treat. “Are you trying to train me like a pet with treats?”

“If it works,” Boyd shrugged and ruffled his hair. “We’re worried about you, Stiles.”

Erica next to her mate nodded. Stiles accepted the brownie and stuffed it in his face. He trailed after Malia to check on Kira in the kitchen, with the kitsune aiming a million watt smile at him.

“Dinner will be ready soon so hurry up,” Kira ordered. “We were all just waiting for you.”

A small smile spread over his lips as he looked at them before heading upstairs to get showered and changed. He wasn’t good at letting others take care of him and he sucked even more at taking care of himself. He preferred to be the one to take care of others. Especially when he had a lot on his mind, because it was a good distraction and it made him feel useful. However, he couldn’t take care of his dad right now. There was nothing he could do aside from sitting by his bedside, waiting.

When he got his clothes from his room, he paused in front of his conspiracy board. There was something he could do. He could find the Benefactor. He could end this, so his dad would be safe when he woke up again. With his determination steeled, he headed into the bathroom. First things first. Shower, food, sleep. And then he needed to dive back into his investigation. Get caught up with what Kira and Lydia had found out in the meantime. He should also visit the station, check in with Parrish on the status of the investigations.

Stiles’ heart clenched at the thought of going to the sheriff station without his dad. Noah had been in the hospital for a week now and… and there was no prognosis on when he’d wake up. They were probably going to replace his dad soon, if they hadn’t already. Temporary as it may be, Stiles felt hatred toward a person he didn’t even know. That sheriff star belonged to his dad, nobody else.

/break\

Stiles successfully procrastinated going to the sheriff station for another whole week. In his defense, he did have school, lacrosse, assassins, sitting at his father’s hospital bed (fuck anyone who tried to keep him out of the hospital, even if he did go home to sleep and go to school). However, there was a new girl in school and Stiles absolutely needed to dig up dirt on her father.

“You need to stop staring dreamy-eyed at the Argent,” Stiles glared at Malia. “Argents are bad.”

“It feels like you are condemning Allison for things she didn’t do,” Malia countered. “Scott says we should give people a chance. You told me to give new people a chance, with the pack.”

“Yeah, well, Argents are different,” Stiles frowned. “Victoria and Kate came to Beacon Hills and tried to kill the majority of the pack back then. Kate had laid the Hale Fire that killed the majority of your birth family and put Peter in the hospital for six years. And after we took care of Kate, and by that I mean your father tore out her throat and failed to kill her, Gerard moved into town. He was… he was worse. He was so much worse. He kidnapped me, Boyd and Erica. Tortured us. He killed Matt to gain control of Jackson’s kanima form. And now Kate came back, with a were jaguar upgrade and an army of Berserkers. You know what she did to Derek. She’s… She’s dangerous.”

Stiles swallowed hard, his hand shaking a little. “One bad apple. Two’s a coincident. Three’s a pattern, Mal. One bad apple is one thing. But every single Argent I met so far has tried to kill me and everyone I care about. So don’t trust the Argent girl.”

“Fine,” Malia crossed her arms. “But you should tell Kira that. She befriended her first.”

That checked out. Malia wasn’t exactly the most outgoing person. She hated new people. It took Stiles months of coaxing to make her care about the pack and to give her dad a chance. And ‘chance’ was used very loosely there. The relationship between Malia and Peter was rocky at best.

But Kira? Malia had latched onto the kitsune. Sparks flew between them when they were in Mexico to free Derek from the Calaveras. Which turned into them saving Derek from Kate Argent. Were jaguar Kate Argent. It was like an actual nightmare. Wasn’t it bad enough that they had to deal with assassins overrunning Beacon Hills? Did they need another former villain who couldn’t stay dead? Only that unlike Peter, Kate didn’t seem very motivated to change her ways, be useful and stop killing. Stiles sighed tired and rubbed his face.

“Where are you going?” Malia asked. “You know we’re supposed to stick together.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. Between Kate and the assassins, both packs had agreed that nobody should go out alone these days. Backup. And also so there would be a witness if something happened. Which was morbid and mortifying. Stiles missed when hunters were their biggest problem. Ironic, considering one of their problems was an Argent. Maybe two, depending on what he’d find out.

“I’m just going to the station to talk to Parrish,” Stiles said. “I can go to the sheriff station on my own. Have been doing that since I was eight years old.”

“Not while there are assassins out for you,” Malia narrowed her eyes at him. “I’m going with you.”

Stiles rolled his eyes annoyed, but allowed it. Fussy weres. They drove in silence, at first because Stiles was frustrated by the babysitting. But then because the closer they got to the sheriff station, the more real it became that his dad wasn’t sheriff right now. That there would be a stranger, probably from some other county, sitting in his dad’s office.

“You okay?” Malia asked softly. “Your hands are shaking.”

They did that. More and more since the Nogitsune. He hadn’t exactly gotten over that yet. Any of that, really. And he was much more… sensitive nowadays. Things he would have shrugged off before now affected him more. Triggered a fear response. He took a deep breath to calm himself.

“I’m fine,” Stiles forced the words out as he pulled up to the station.

The duo got out of the car and went inside. The moment Parrish laid eyes on them, his eyes widened comically. Well, that was always a very reassuring sign. Usually it went the other way around; Stiles had that reaction when one of the deputies walked up to him, catching him in the middle of something not entirely legal or approved of by his dad.

“Stiles,” Parrish’s voice did a weird pitch. “What are you doing here.”

Stiles narrowed his eyes. “I’m always here, Parrish. Why? Are you hiding something?”

“No?” Parrish took a step in front of the sheriff’s office.

Stiles’ eyes narrowed further. “I’m here to get information on the Argents. Malia, I’m sure you have all of Allison’s contact info. Why don’t you have a chat with Deputy Parrish here?”

Malia understood and distracted Parrish for the split-second it took for Stiles to sneak past the man. He stumbled when he entered the sheriff’s office because the name was wrong. The name on the silver little name tag stand on the table read Sheriff Argent.

Stiles couldn’t even put into words just how wrong that was. He glared viciously at the name plaque and grabbed it tightly. His Spark allowed him to manipulate nature and all things that came from nature. Including metal. His will shifted the carvings around, until it said Sheriff Stilinski instead. There. That was how things were supposed to go.

He stomped around the desk to roam through it, to see what the substitute – the Argent – had changed. This was probably going to be more fruitful than what Malia was going to get from Parrish. He was roaming the drawers with the files the substitute was currently working on when someone grabbed him by the back of his shirt and pulled him away. Stiles gasped out in surprise when the collar of his shirt pressed uncomfortably tight against his throat but before it became too distressing did he find himself forcibly pushed against the office’s wall.

A broad hand pressed sprawled-out against his chest, another hand against the wall next to his head and a face far too close to him for comfort. Steel-gray eyes stared at him with a cutting intensity, eyebrows furrowed deep in a suspicious frown. A beard, neatly trimmed and well-kept, framed the handsome face, with a streak of silver running down either side of the man’s chin. Light reflected off something on the man’s chest and Stiles’ attention was drawn from his face to the silver sheriff star.

It was like a switch got flipped in Stiles. Confusion, surprise and an edge of fear immediately made room for white-hot burning anger. The Argent who was trying to replace his father.

“What,” the man’s voice was a dark growl that had Stiles shuddering involuntarily. “Do you think you’re doing in my office, brat?”

“Your office?” Stiles straightened up, offended on his father’s behalf. “This isn’t your office, Argent. This is my father’s office. He’s the sheriff of Beacon Hills. You’re a substitute, nothing more. You’re probably just here to clean up after your sister.”

He sneered at the man and watched the anger on Argent’s face morph into surprise. What Stiles hated was the way a certain softness sneaked into his eyes. Argent took a step back from Stiles and let go of him.

“You’re Stilinski’s kid,” Argent’s voice softened. “I’m… sorry about your father.”

“Yeah, right,” Stiles snorted and pushed off the wall. “I may not know what kind of games you and your daughter are playing here, but if you come near any of my wolves, I’ll kill you.”

“Your…” Argent trailed off, his eyebrows raised high.

“You heard me,” Stiles shot him a cold look and stormed out of the office. “Mal! We’re leaving.”

/break\

When Stiles stormed into his father’s hospital room, he was a whirlwind of fury. Peter barely spared him a glance before returning his attention to Noah. Stiles and Peter were much alike in that regard; they channeled their helplessness into anger and rage. Peter knew exactly why Stiles was this angry, he himself was just as angry. Only that his anger had boiled down to a low simmer of exhaustion at this point. He’d already lost so much. Most of his family were gone, but now, with Noah, Malia and Stiles, with the way he was rekindling things with Cora and Derek, it felt like his second chance.

And now his mate was in the hospital. In a coma. Peter knew firsthand what that felt like and how long that could take. If Noah woke up at all. It felt like he was losing everything all over again. His mate was slipping away from him, Derek had been taken and deaged by Kate, Malia was part of the McCall Pack and not his pack, Stiles was working himself to the bone trying to find the Benefactor, trying to distract himself from his father’s condition.

“What can I do for you, pup?” Peter asked. “Anyone in need of their throat being ripped out?”

“The Argent who is sitting in dad’s office,” Stiles spat and started pacing. “What if he’s behind everything? Isn’t it way too suspicious that there are Argents in Beacon Hills again? Just now that we are fighting against a genocidal maniac who is paying obscene amounts of money to have all supernaturals killed? Doesn’t that sound like Argent?”

“What are you talking about, Stiles?” Peter asked confused, looking up.

“The new interim sheriff they assigned is Christopher Alexander Argent,” Stiles motioned widely. “Aka the only son of Gerard, aka the brother of Kate, aka the ex-husband of Victoria!”

Peter frowned and straightened up. Christopher was back in town? Why would he do that?

“Stiles, it’s…” Peter heaved a sigh when the boy continued ranting. “Stiles!”

The Spark whirled around to face him, staring wide-eyed. “What? We have to take him out before he can get anyone killed. I am sick and tired of Argents terrorizing this town!”

“Christopher isn’t like his family,” Peter pointed out.

Stiles just stood there, staring at him. “Are you… you, of all people, defending an Argent?”

“It’s a bit more complicated than that,” Peter started, but was interrupted.

“No! He came here, with that dimpled, sweet daughter of his, who is infiltrating our pack – like it’s a coincident that she’s being extra friendly with the pack? And he took dad’s position! Dad is going to wake up again, he doesn’t need some stranger to take his office! He put his name on the desk! That doesn’t belong there,” Stiles spat the words, his eyes swirling teal with his agitated magic.

Before Peter had the chance to say anything else did Stiles storm out of the room. Peter heaved a sigh and rubbed his face. Christopher had truly chosen the worst possible time for his return… and the worst possible job as a cover story.

“I’m sorry, love, but I think I’ll have to go and see an old friend before your son does something he will regret,” Peter sighed. “You need to wake up, I can not be responsible for wrangling that boy on my own, Noah.”

He pressed a kiss to his mate’s brows and left the hospital. Thanks to Stiles, he knew exactly where to find Chris. When he entered the station, he did take a moment before the office, his heart aching. He knew why Stiles felt so strongly. Someone else filling in for Noah was a replacement, as temporary as they would prefer it to be, there was no guarantee. No guarantee for anything.

“Christopher. You really should have called before coming by.”

Chris looked up from the files he was working on and frowned deeply at Peter. “What is it about this office that makes everyone feel entitled to barge in without knocking? Did the former sheriff have some rotating door policy?”

“Only for family,” Peter smiled sharply. “I already heard that Stiles paid you a visit.”

“The sheriff’s kid? Yeah,” Chris narrowed his eyes at the plague. “This said Argent before he came by. But I know it’s the same plague. He didn’t switch them out. The wooden base is the same, chipped at the same spot. I don’t know how he did that.”

Peter laughed delighted and ran his fingers over the letters. “Oh, Stiles is not someone you want to mess with, Christopher. Really not.”

“I’m not afraid of an angry teenager,” Chris frowned at Peter. “I do understand why he’s upset. I heard what happened to the sheriff. Having a new guy come in must feel like the department is giving up on his father.”

“You don’t understand why he’s upset,” Peter whispered softly and sat down opposite Chris. “Stiles’ father got hurt because of him. Not that I blame him, but Noah was injured trying to protect Stiles and Stiles blames himself for it.”

“He was injured by one of the assassins,” Chris’ eyes widened. “His son is… What is his son?”

Peter lifted the name plague up and waved it around for emphasis. “A spite-fueled Spark. I meant it when I said you don’t want to mess with him. He’s at the top of the Deadpool. Thankfully, the majority of assassins can’t seem to figure that out since he’s listed under his birth-name, which nobody can pronounce outside our family, and he always only goes by Stiles.”

“You said it again,” Chris tilted his head. “Family. What’s your relationship to them, exactly?”

“Noah is my mate. Stiles is… like a pup to me,” Peter smiled, but it was cold. “Another reason why you shouldn’t mess with him. You know I don’t take kindly to my family being hurt.”

Chris gave a grunt and a nod at that. Silence stretched on between them, Peter waiting for the other to explain himself. It was Christopher’s turn to be forthcoming.

“I’m sorry about your family,” Chris said after a moment. “I came back when I heard, but you…”

“Wasn’t up for visitors?” Peter snorted, aiming a dark glare at the floor. “It was your sister. I tore her throat out for it.”

“I know,” Chris’ face hardened. “That’s why I’m here.”

Peter tensed some, all of a sudden unsure where this conversation was going. Chris lifted a hand and shook his head, his posture relaxed, not aggressive.

“I know that you didn’t kill her and that she’s now a were-jaguar,” Chris made a face. “I’m here to… She’s my sister. She’s my responsibility. It was a coward’s move to turn my back on them and run away. All the bad they’d done since… The fire, everything… I’m here to clean up my mess.”

Peter couldn’t help but bark out a laugh at that, startling Chris. “I’m sorry, we’re not used to receiving outside help around here. And considering the pup’s currently suspecting you of being behind the deadpool because, to be fair, Argents have been behind 75% of our problems, so you moving here was… poorly timed.”

Chris furrowed his brows and ran his fingers through his beard. It was striking how much the man had changed since Peter had last seen him. Aged. Hardened, in some ways, with his resolve steeled. Yet at the same time also somehow softened, but he supposed leaving a loveless marriage and an abusive family would have that effect on one.

“What’s his problem with me? His, specifically,” Chris asked. “Or do I have to expect the same level of hostility from every member of… your… …pack?”

Peter leaned back in his chair and tilted his head. “Well, your sister set the family of his somewhat stepfather and stepsister on fire, seduced and manipulated one of his best friends to do so, while your ex-wife tried to poison his other best friend. Oh, and your father kidnapped and tortured him and two of his pack-mates.”

Chris’ face did something very fascinating at that. Peter didn’t hold back the chuckle. If Chris had really thought that coming back to Beacon Hills would be easy, then he was more naïve than Peter had ever thought him capable of.

“I can… see why he would…” Chris rubbed his face and heaved a sigh. “Jesus, Peter, how do I ever fix all the things my family has broken?”

“You can’t,” Peter replied bluntly, shrugging. “Your family has killed and tortured people. There is no ‘fixing’ that. All you can do is do better than them. And stopping your sister – who, by the way, has now kidnapped my nephew twice in the past year, shot him multiple times, deaged him with magic to try and seduce him again – sounds like a wonderful plan to me.”

Chris ground his teeth together and nodded. Peter had some pity with his old friend, so he flashed his eyes red at Chris, causing the hunter to raise both his eyebrows.

“I’m the Alpha. Of the Hale Pack. But there are other packs in Beacon Hills,” Peter got up slowly. “You and I have history and I know where your heart stands, Christopher. Don’t assume the other Alphas feel the same. Make your presence known and seek a treaty with the packs.”

Chris cleared his throat. “I had hoped I could take care of this without having to interact with any of the packs. That becoming interim sheriff would get me the intel I need to find and stop Kate.”

“Afraid the sheriff’s intel didn’t do much for the sheriff either,” Peter forced a thin-lipped smile. “Believe me, Noah tried to find Kate too. He’s gotten pretty protective of Derek, especially after he learned what my nephew has been through at her hands. And he also knows just how… dangerous your family is. Stiles may have tried to keep him out of things at first, but ever since Noah learned about the supernatural, he’s been in.”

Peter walked toward the door, being stopped by Chris just before he could leave. “Peter. I’m… sorry, about your mate. And I’ll talk to that boy of yours.”

“Oh,” Peter chuckled. “Stiles isn’t my boy. He’s not anyone’s anything and I think he’d resent the implication. He’s quite his own person, and you should treat him that way if you don’t want to face his wrath. Which, I can’t recommend, because the last time I angered him, he set me on fire and aided in my murder.”

With these words, Peter left the office, hoping Chris would take his warning to heart.

/break\

For some reason had Chris thought that returning to Beacon Hills would be… easier. Not necessarily easy, but definitely easier than it turned out to be. The loud, angry brat that had broken into his office, the deputies walking on eggshells around him or being similarly hostile as the sheriff’s son, and then there was Peter’s little visit.

Peter’s little visit that made the loud, angry brat a much, much bigger problem than anticipated. Chris had thought, after Stiles had stalked out of the office, that the boy was merely angry and upset because his father was hurt and he was projecting these feelings onto Chris as an easy target. The boy not just being the sheriff’s son but also being a Spark and a member of the Hale Pack made things more complicated. So did the fact that Chris’ father had apparently tortured him. Chris wasn’t just an easy target because he’d taken over the sheriff’s job, but also because of all the wrong Chris’ family had done to Stiles, directly and indirectly by hurting those he cared about.

Which brought Chris here, in front of the door of the former sheriff. Hoping to explain himself and mend some things with the sheriff’s son. Taking a deep breath, he knocked on the door. A girl opened him and she immediately narrowed her eyes at him.

“You’re not welcome here. Stiles said so.”

“And Peter says that he very much is, dear,” Peter called out. “Let Christopher in. I assume he’s here to speak to Stiles.”

Peter walked up to the girl from behind and smiled at Chris while resting a hand on her shoulder. “My daughter, Malia. Malia, this is… an old friend of mine. Now, how about you and I go grocery shopping? We’re out of… everything.”

“Because you and Stiles are practically living at the hospital,” Malia muttered. “And I’m fine hunting my own food. Or going to Kira’s.”

“Yes, well,” Peter sighed, a mournful look on his face. “That’s going to change. Noah isn’t going to improve just from us sitting at his bedside. We need to live outside the hospital room too.”

“You don’t just get to decide that you’ll move in here!” Stiles yelled angrily from inside. “That’s not your call to make!”

“What other call would you like me to make? The one to child protective services to place you in foster care until your father wakes up again?” Peter replied with a deadpan. “Come.”

He gave Malia a push and clearly fled what had been an argument that must have been going on for a while. Wonderful, exactly the state of mind that Chris had hoped to find Stiles in. Angry and in a yelling mood. Taking another deep breath, Chris entered the house and closed the door.

“Oh, just go and get the damn groceries!” Stiles barked. “We can continue this pointless conversation afterward, where I’m going to tell you another dozen of times that I am seventeen and perfectly capable of staying alone in this house until dad wakes up and you snark back about the law that I have no problems disregarding. You know exactly how much CPS sucks! Isaac lived in an abandoned train station for months, nobody gave a shit. They wouldn’t even notice or care.”

Chris’ eyes widened at that, before he cleared his throat. He’d followed the yelling into what turned out to be the kitchen, where he found Stiles arms deep in the fridge, cleaning it. Apparently, ‘out of everything’ meant ‘everything that was still here had gone bad’. He wrinkled his nose at the smell. Probably another reason why Peter had fled the house.

“Not Peter,” Chris said.

Stiles froze, before he whirled around and stared at him with narrowed eyes. “You know that breaking and entering is against the law, even for you if you don’t have a warrant.”

“Peter let me in,” Chris countered, mildly amused.

“Yeah, well, as you just overheard, Peter doesn’t live here, so he has no legal right to invite anyone in,” Stiles aimed a hard glare at him. “Now do like him and get out.”

“What’s your problem with him?” Chris frowned. “I got the impression that he cares deeply for you and assumed that was mutual.”

“It is mutual, not that it’s any of your business. I love the stupid Stepwolf,” Stiles took off his rubber gloves, tossed them and washed his hands. “I just don’t need a babysitter. I’m seventeen. I survived alone when I was way younger, I’ll be able to again.”

“You may think that, but CPS might disagree,” Chris pointed out. “And whatever your friend’s situation was, he wasn’t the sheriff’s kid. Your father got injured while on the job. There are records of this. It will be passed along.”

Stiles glowered at him. “What do you want, Argent? Peter already gave me the unlikely spiel of you and him being ‘friends’ and you having turned your back on your family.”

“And you believe every word, I take,” Chris’ voice was dry.

“Even if you left your family eight ago, eight years are a fucking long time to change again,” Stiles pointed out. “The way Peter tells it, you got divorced from Vicky about a year before the Hale Fire. So it’s not exactly like Peter has been in touch with you over those years. You could have realized that it’s too much work, that being a single parent cut off from the family funds was too expensive. You might have come crawling back to daddy dearest years ago, for all we know.”

Chris took a moment to consider the boy’s words, before he nodded. “You’re… right. It’s not like Peter and I have been in contact this entire time and he was updated on what I did. It’s been eight years and a lot can happen in eight years. You don’t have a reason to trust me.”

Both of Stiles’ eyebrows went up to his hairline. “Great conversation, then. Glad we’re on the same page. Have a nice day.”

Chris snorted softly. Somehow, that infuriating brat was endearing. He liked the sharp-cut snark and the defiance in Stiles’ eyes. The fearlessness. Even though the boy thought him a threat, had experienced what a bad Argent was capable of first hand, he didn’t meet Chris with fear. He met him with bravery. Chris found that… dangerously alluring.

“What do I do to prove myself to you.”

“Gee, that makes me feel special,” Stiles batted his lashes. “Why do you care.”

“You got the whole sheriff’s department wrapped around your little finger. You’re the main reason they’re hostile toward me. I’d gather most of them would understand that I’m just doing the job that was assigned to me, that they need a sheriff even with Stilinski in the hospital, but their fondness for you and their protectiveness over you makes them not trust me,” Chris started. “Also, Peter mentioned that you’re the Spark of these lands. Which means you hold sway over its Alphas. And though Peter welcomes me, I’d gather the other Alphas will need more convincing.”

Stiles crossed his arms and leaned back against the counter, seeming somewhat annoyed. “Okay. Different question then: Why do you care what happens here? Why did you come back?”

“Because when I left, Kate got so angry that she set my best friend’s house on fire, just because he was a wolf and he and his family had helped me get away,” Chris averted his eyes. “Because now she is a were and she had a group of Berserkers that she commands and she’s come back to terrorize my best friend and his family again. This time, I’m going to stop her.”

For some very long moments did Stiles stare at him with those intense, whiskey-colored eyes of his. They were unsettling, because it felt as though Stiles could see right through him. Would be able to pick any lie better than a wolf could. Chris was near tempted to hold his breath. And then Stiles nodded and pushed off the counter.

“I’ll talk to the Alphas. Not necessarily on your behalf, but to inform them that you are here and that you want to help. You will be closely surveilled, you will share anything you find directly with me and if you want to take any kinds of actions, you will do so with at least two members of one of the packs so they can keep an eye on you and serve as backup, if your intentions are actually good.”

Chris blinked surprised. He hadn’t expected the boy to be that in charge. He’d assumed the role as Spark was more a figurehead role, that the teenager was learning magic and leaving any leading up to the Alphas. That did not appear to be the case. Chris straightened just a little and it immediately caught Stiles’ attention.

“Don’t underestimate me. Or any other teenager in this town,” Stiles warned. “We’ve fought hunters, a feral Alpha, a kanima, a Darach, a whole Alpha Pack and a Nogitsune. We know what we’re doing and we haven’t lost yet.”

“Heard,” Chris inclined his head a little, then handed his phone over.

That seemed to catch Stiles by surprise because the boy blinked doe-eyed at him. “…Huh?”

“You want me to report anything I find to you and you want me to work with the packs, which I assume you also want to coordinate that. I’d be much easier if I had your number, instead of me having to come to your house every time I want something,” Chris pointed out amused.

“Right,” Stiles cleared his throat and started typing. “That… makes sense. I’m texting myself so I have your number too, because I generally make it a point not to pick up with unknown callers.”

Chris nodded pleased as he accepted his phone back. He pocketed it and then turned around to leave. It had been more successful than anticipated, though it had also been very different from what he had expected. He had a feeling that this boy, in particular, was going to make his stay in Beacon Hills not just more complicated but also more interesting. Whether that was good or bad was yet to be determined.

/break\

It was definitely a bad thing that the Argents appeared to not be a threat. It would be easier if they were as straight-up evil as the rest of them because then Stiles could have made quick process of them both. Instead, there was Allison with her dimpled smiles, becoming best friends with Lydia and befriending Kira. And everybody was just fine with the Argent at their lunch table.

And, worse yet, Malia was definitely having a crush on her, especially when Kira and Allison would stick their heads together and giggle about something. Malia, big, strong, practical Malia, turned into useless mushy goo when Kira and Allison smiled at each other.

“You’re weak,” Stiles muttered displeased, shooting Malia a glare.

“Yes,” Malia turned wide-eyed to him. “I am weak for the pretty, cute, sweet, dark-haired sunshine girls. We have established that. Shut up.”

They were at Lydia’s lake house together, trying to have a normal Saturday. Stiles was sprawled out on a blanket with Malia, but Malia couldn’t tear her eyes away from where Kira and Allison were splashing each other with water, laughing and wearing bathing suits. Pathetic.

“You know that the majority of people seem to agree that they’re not bad, right?”

Stiles narrowed his eyes and turned to glare at Erica as the blonde sat down next to him. He was well-aware of this. Peter, Satomi and Scott have been cooperating with and working with Chris Argent for weeks now. The man was an active aid in fighting the assassins, had even saved some of Stiles’ wolves at this point. And Allison was nothing but sweet and nice, even Stiles liked her!

“I think,” Boyd sat down behind his mate and pulled Erica against his chest, with her happily leaning against him and pecking his cheek. “You need to learn to relax just a little, Stiles. Maybe not everyone is out to get you. Maybe some people genuinely do want to help. Do change.”

Stiles scoffed at that and returned his own attention to Allison Argent. They didn’t understand, because they didn’t know the stories. They knew the rough facts. That Kate had used Derek for information to lay the fire. They didn’t know the details the way Stiles did, because Derek was one of his best friends by now, because the Sourwolf trusted him.

They didn’t understand that, for months, Kate was kind and sweet, offered smiles and comforts. Used Derek’s vulnerability after Paige’s death to worm her way in, to make him trust her, depend on her. To fall in love with her. And then she used that trust and love to get the information she needed to kill nearly Derek’s entire family.

So no, Stiles didn’t think he could trust kind and sweet smiles. Not if they could be used against him. Not if his own current state of vulnerability could easily be used to manipulate him and drive the knife in hard. No, he didn’t think he was being too cautious here, by trying to avoid history from repeating itself, by trying to protect his family, his wolves, his lands.

/break\

“I’m headed to work, princess,” Chris called out. “You good?”

Steps thundered into his direction and then Allison stood in front of him. “Could you drop me off at the Stilinskis’? I’m supposed to meet Malia and Kira, so I wouldn’t have to walk to them?”

Chris didn’t know what he thought about that one yet. Allison had made a lot of friends since they’d moved to Beacon Hills – Lydia, Jackson, Kira, Malia, Isaac – but she seemed to particularly like Malia and Kira. In a way that seemed like more than friendship to Chris. Considering the daggers Stiles was still glaring at Chris every time they interacted, Chris doubted the boy approved of his sister getting cozy with an Argent.

“Sure,” Chris smiled and nodded. “You… getting along with Malia and her brother well?”

Allison pursed her lips as she shot her father a look. “Stiles is nice. He is… keeping his distance and I’m aware that he will not hesitate to set me on fire if I hurt any of his friends, but he’s… not being too hostile? Not as bad as he is with you, anyway.”

Chris snorted and shook his head. “Okay. I’m glad to hear that.”

“He’s… really making your life hard, huh?” Allison frowned. “Is this going to be fine…?”

“For the most part, he’s making it easier,” Chris admitted, earning a disbelieving look from his daughter. “Does he threaten me with words or glares every chance he gets? Yes. But now that he’s around the station more to work with me, the deputies seem to trust me more. They’re following his lead. So are the Alphas. And though he still distrusts me and I am aware that I’m being watched by someone at all times whenever I leave the house, my tails have also turned into my backup when I encountered one of the assassins. The packs are cooperating, keeping me in the loop, thanks to him. I think I would have a harder time navigating this town and its three packs if not for him.”

“Huh,” Allison blinked surprised. “So, do you think he’ll actually ease off at some point?”

Chris snorted and shook his head. At this point, it had been weeks. The distrust was still palpable in every interaction. Chris was well aware that if he stepped out of line and posed any kind of threat to a wolf, Stiles would use his magic to end Chris before the hunter had a chance to even blink. There was no love lost between them and he doubted that’d ever change. But that was fine. He was only here to find Kate – and help with the assassins, while he was here – and then he’d leave again and never return.

/break\

“Are you stupid?” Stiles barked out. “Are you actively stupid?! Why did you do that?”

Chris coughed and stared at Stiles with those stupidly blue eyes of his. Glaring down at the idiot hunter, Stiles pressed his hands against the man’s firm chest, concentrating on the metal inside to pull it out. Because of course had it not even been a clean shot through and through.

“Couldn’t let it hit you,” Chris pointed out.

“Shut up! I need to concentrate. I’m trying to save your life here and not hit any major organs or arteries on the way out,” Stiles glared heatedly at him and pinned him harder. “Fucking hunter. If you die while the two of us are alone, everyone is going to think I finally caved and did you in myself. I do not need to deal with that. Fuck.”

Stiles pretty much dissolved into a string of curses at that while working his magic. He could manipulate metal, which included pulling the bullet out of the stupid idiot hunter who had pushed Stiles aside. After Chris went down, Stiles took out the assassin and now he was trying to save an Argent’s life. How had his life turned out like this?

Stiles was breathing harshly by the time the bullet came out. It was still bleeding profoundly and he doubted that Chris would make it to the hospital. He ground his teeth together.

“I’m going to cauterize the wound to make it stop bleeding. It’s going to hurt like a bitch,” Stiles warned him. “Try not to scream like a baby.”

The idiot hunter had the gall to laugh at him. For lack of better tools, Stiles took Chris’ gun to heat the metal up with his magic and press it against the gunshot wound. All Chris gave was a pained grunt. Show-off. Stiles gasped for breath as he practically collapsed on top of Chris.

“I’m… I’m calling Derek. He’ll pick us up,” Stiles murmured, weak hands reaching for his phone. “You still need medical attention. Even though I doubt it hit anything major.”

Stiles called Derek, hung up and closed his eyes. He startled a little when fingers carded through his hair. Cracking one eye open, he stared at the hunter. Chris was staring wondrously at him and the hunter’s fingers were surprisingly gentle at that.

“You okay?” Chris asked, voice rough.

“Seriously?” Stiles shot him an incredulous look. “You are the one who got himself shot!”

“And you’re the one currently using my chest as a pillow,” Chris pointed out. “Despite hating me.”

“I don’t hate you,” Stiles frowned annoyed. “I hate your family and I don’t trust you. But you haven’t done anything to make me actively hate you. Yet.”

“Very reassuring,” Chris’ eyes crinkled prettily as he grinned at that. “So?”

It took a moment for Stiles to catch on. “Oh. Right. Yeah. I have severely exhausted my magic yesterday when reinforcing the wards on a couple of the houses from the pack, so very precisely guiding a bullet out of you was a bit much. I just… need a moment until my limbs aren’t jello anymore and then I’ll get off of you.”

“It’s okay,” Chris whispered, his fingers still doing that reassuring and gentle stuff with Stiles’ hair. “Relax. Thank you, for saving my life.”

“Yeah, well,” Stiles huffed. “Don’t throw yourself in front of bullets. Idiot.”

/break\

Chris paused in his doorway when he saw Stiles sprawled out on his couch, reading a book. He wasn’t sure how to proceed with that. The boy regularly broke into the sheriff’s office and they met at the Stilinski house a couple of times – since that was where the Hale Alpha was living now too – or more neutral grounds with all Alphas. But Stiles had not yet been at Chris’ place.

“Why are you here?” Chris asked slowly.

Stiles put the book down and looked up at him. “Well, my sister and her girlfriend made the questionable decision to start dating your daughter and since all three of them lack a driver’s license – which, just, how and why – I was volunteered to drive Malia and Kira here. The three left.”

“Why are you still here, then?” Chris asked, mildly amused.

It wasn’t good that he was growing fond of the boy. That he felt a pleasant warmth when Stiles would snark at him. That he liked to get lost in those whiskey-golden eyes. That he had memorized the boy’s moles. And, most of all, that he was starting to wonder where more moles were hidden. Incredibly dangerous thoughts to be having about the Spark who didn’t trust him, the son of the sheriff and the Hale Alpha, the boy who was still shy of eighteen. It was also not good that Chris was hyperaware of the fact that Stiles would soon turn eighteen.

Stiles blinked owlishly and gave a shrug. “Figured I’d check to see if you’re still alive or if you’ve thrown yourself in front of any more bullets lately. I hate when my hard work goes to waste.”

Chris’ hand went to his stomach, to the scar there. He hadn’t had any internal bleeding, thankfully enough, so Stiles cauterizing the wound had been enough. It had left quite the scar though, but he wasn’t new to those.

“You hungry?” Chris asked while heading into the kitchen.

There was a confused pause. “…What are you offering?”

“I had plans for French onion soup today, if you’re up for it. Soup just needs to be reheated, I bought fresh bread and got the good cheese.”

He startled a little when Stiles popped up next to him. “Okay, yeah. I could eat.”

Chris smiled a little at that and turned on the stove to reheat the soup. He set the table while leaving Stiles to cut up the bread. It was strangely comfortable and domestic. And when Stiles wasn’t actively threatening him, the boy and his quick wit were quite good company. They talked about the latest assassin, school and what regular cases Chris was working right now. It was… nice. It had been a long time since Chris last shared a meal like that with someone else aside from Allison.

/break\

Stiles resolutely ignored the wolf in his doorway. If Peter wanted something, he needed to speak up. Otherwise, Stiles had other things to do. He ground his teeth together as he aggressively packed his bag for tomorrow. Peter heaved a sigh and stepped in.

“Where have you been all day?” Peter asked in a harsh tone.

“Why? Is this now a prison and I’m not allowed to leave?” Stiles shot him an angry glare. “I’m nearly eighteen. I told you before that I don’t need a babysitter, and now you want to helicopter parent me?”

“I thought that you would come with me when we were getting your father settled in at the long-term care facility,” Peter pressed out through closed teeth and some fangs. “And nobody has been able to reach you all day since you dropped Malia and Kira off at the Argents’ for their lunch date. The pack has been worried about you, tried texting and calling you.”

“Yeah, why do you think I turned off my phone?” Stiles growled. “Anything else?”

Peter growled in frustration and closed the door very loudly as he left. Stiles squeezed his eyes closed tightly to stop the tears from falling, his hands shaking a little. It was hard to breathe but he refused to have a panic attack. He was the Spark of Beacon County, he should be able to handle-

“Easy. Breathe with me, Stiles. In, slow. Hold it for me. Just a little longer. There, now out, slow.”

Someone was holding his hands, putting pressure on his pulse and guiding him through breathing until he was calmed down enough to recognize Derek’s voice. He blinked at the former Alpha.

“What are you doing here,” Stiles asked one he found his words again.

“Like Peter just said, nobody could reach you all day,” Derek raised his eyebrows. “I wanted to check on you. Also because Peter has been majorly pissed about this. So…”

“Peter can have his feelings about this, I don’t care,” Stiles glared at his still shaky hands.

“Peter just had to put his mate in a long-term facility. The same one he has spent six years in,” Derek said very softly. “And the one person he counted on to lean on, to share that pain with, has been absent all day.”

Stiles ground his teeth together and pulled his hands free from the wolf. “They’re giving up on him, Derek! How could I have been there?! I’m against this! Long-term means everybody stopped believing that dad will wake up any time soon!”

And there were the tears he had tried to stop. Derek’s face softened as he wrapped his arms around Stiles to pull him into a hug. Stiles buried his face in Derek’s chest and started sobbing desperately.

“Why won’t he wake up?” Stiles asked in a small, broken voice. “P… Peter was in a coma for six years and he’s a werewolf with healing. What if… What if he will never wake up? What if I never get to hug him again or hear him scold me or… or tell him that I’m sorry?”

He hunched in on himself as he fully dissolved into the tears he’d been suppressing all day. Derek just held him and listened while Stiles babbled what was increasingly turning into incoherent nonsense. They stood like that for long minutes, until Stiles had no more words and no more tears to give. His breathing evened out, Derek’s hand rubbing soothing circles on his back.

“I’m sorry I turned off my phone,” Stiles whispered. “I just… When I dropped Malia and Kira off, they were both being awkward already and walking on egg-shells and Kira looked at me with so much pity and tried to be reassuring and I know she means well, I know everyone who probably tried to reach out to me today would have meant well, but I can’t deal with this! I can’t deal with all the pity and the attempts at comfort! It all means nothing! None of those nice words are going to wake dad up, they just force me to go through the same spiel over and over and over again of reassuring them that I’m alright and I’m not!”

Stiles bit back another sob as his voice rose into shouting. “I’m not okay. And I don’t have the energy to pretend for anyone else so they’ll be reassured and so they’ll feel better.”

“Nobody is asking that of you, Stiles,” Derek spoke softly. “We care about you. Actually care. We want to know how you’re doing and what you need, because we want to help.”

“What I need is for people to stop asking me that! And to stop looking at me with pity! It feels just like it did when mom died, only that dad isn’t dead yet!” Stiles’ eyes widened and he slapped a hand over his mouth. “Isn’t dead. He isn’t dead.”

Not yet. He hadn’t meant to say yet. Somehow, there were even more tears running down his cheeks now, even though he had already cried them all out before. Where did these come from? Why was he still not done crying? He started shaking and Derek pulled him into another hug.

“Then tell us that,” Derek’s grip tightened just a little. “Just tell us that you don’t want us to ask, or that you need time. But don’t just turn off your phone and disappear half a day! Not while Kate is out there, not while there are assassins actively trying to kill you, and all of us!”

Stiles swallowed hard and nodded. “Okay, that… that’s a good point. I didn’t… I didn’t consider it. I just… I got overwhelmed by all the notifications, Scott asking how I was doing, Lydia asking if I needed something, Boyd and Erica wanting to spend time with me to distract me, I just… It was too much and I just needed it to stop, so I turned off my phone.”

Derek heaved a sigh. “I… do get that. But we’re currently not in a situation where you can go radio silent for hours. None of us can do that right now. Okay? At least tell someone that you need space and where you are.”

“I was safe, okay?” Stiles muttered. “It’s not like I was frolicking in the preserve with a target on my chest.”

“Oh, you mean the way I first met you?” Derek snorted softly. “You were literally wearing a shirt with a target printed on it. I thought you were ridiculous. Still think you are ridiculous.”

The reminder startled a laugh out of Stiles and he relaxed against Derek. “I’m sorry I worried everyone. Can… Can you tell them? That I’m fine and that I’m sorry and that I need more time?”

“Yeah,” Derek nodded and, when Stiles pushed off him, stepped away. “But… talk to Peter.”

Stiles winced but he nodded and waved at Derek. The wolf climbed out the window, because wolves were actually allergic to using the door. For a couple minutes, Stiles just stood in his bedroom, bracing himself for the conversation ahead of him.

He found Peter in the kitchen, making tea. For a few moments, Stiles just stood there and watched, unsure what to say. Once the tea was done, Peter filled two cups, sat down and pushed one of them across the table, shooting Stiles a very pointed look.

“I heard your conversation with Derek,” Peter offered, calmer than earlier. “I didn’t… think about your mother. Or how this would be a reminder of all of that for you. Not this particular thing, at least. All of this, yes. But today, I was… just thinking about the fact that I could have needed you. And that I wanted Noah to have you, because I remember being the one left in such a facility and I wanted Noah to know that he wasn’t being abandoned, that we were there for him.”

Peter’s grip on the cup tightened and he refused to meet Stiles’ eyes. Stiles ducked his head and sat down, pulling the second cup close enough to have something to fidget with.

“Yeah, well. I was only thinking about me, so I guess we got that in common,” Stiles huffed and Peter snorted despite himself. “I didn’t… I didn’t think about how hard this would be for you, considering you’ve been there yourself. I just… It felt like giving up. Like, as long as he’s in the hospital, we are expecting him to wake up any day. But putting him there is like… we’re no longer expecting him to wake up any time soon. We’re giving up on him. And I… I…”

Stiles gulped down his tea to distract himself. Peter sighed and reached out across the table to take one of Stiles’ hands and give it a gentle squeeze.

“I know,” Peter whispered, his voice cracking. “As someone who has been abandoned in such a place, I know. I was… I was trying to fight it as long as I could. Melissa had a stern talking to with me. About how they will be better to meet his needs. That he will be better taken care of there. I didn’t want to send him there either. I would prefer to have him here, at home, with us. But with the assassins at large, with Kate… He would be defenseless in our home if someone doesn’t stay with him at all times, and we would have to hire a nurse to take care of him, which means inviting a stranger here.”

“I… I think I know, rationally, that this is the right call,” Stiles looked up at Peter. “But…”

“That doesn’t change how wrong it feels,” Peter offered a sad smile and a brief nod of his head. “I really would have liked to have you there today.”

“I’m sorry,” Stiles looked down at the table. “I’m really sorry. I wasn’t thinking about what you… Fuck. I’ve been an ungrateful asshole, haven’t I? You didn’t have to move in here, help with the household, be there for me and Malia, take care of all the financial shit with the hospital and stuff.”

“Yes,” Peter chuckled. “I’m not holding it against you. You lost your mother, that was… That left its mark on you. I get that you’re afraid to lose your father and I, more so than anyone else, get that helpless anger you’re feeling right now. And I wasn’t exactly being selfless when I offered all of that. I get to live with my daughter, finally, I get to be with the both of you, with family, while I am worried about my mate. I get to be surrounded by Noah’s scent here. A pure, content scent, not the one tinted by pain and the chemical scent of the hospital.”

“Yeah, don’t think I haven’t noticed you wearing dad’s clothes,” Stiles snorted. “You would rather be caught dead than buying flannel. You literally told me that before.”

“I don’t even mind the flannel too much,” Peter rolled his eyes and made an offended noise. “It’s the material! These are so cheap and scratchy, I want to tear them all to shreds, if they wouldn’t smell so much like your father. I’m going to buy him a whole new wardrobe when he wakes up, everything in much higher quality.”

“He’s gonna appreciate that, since his current one is going to fully smell like dog,” Stiles smirked.

Peter narrowed his eyes and kicked him under the table, but there was a small smile on Peter’s lips. On Stiles’ too. They both relaxed and got to let go of some of the grief and pain they were holding in. Maybe Stiles really should have been there today. Maybe being with Peter wouldn’t have been a burden that made it harder but rather been a shared comfort and understanding.

“Where were you?” Peter asked, in a much softer tone. “You said to Derek that you were safe, but… where was that? You weren’t at the McCalls, the Nemeton, the loft, the library, or any member of either pack’s. You were just… gone.”

“I was, uh…” Stiles flushed a little and turned his head away. “At the Argents’.”

Silence stretched on as Peter definitely tried to read him. “Why?”

“I…” Stiles trailed off and then gave a helpless shrug. “Honestly, I don’t know. I was dropping Kira and Malia off for their date, they left and the apartment was… was empty and I knew this was the last place anyone – packs and assassins alike – would come looking for me. It was… It was like for the first time in weeks, I could just breathe and be alone with my thoughts, without someone wanting something from me or expecting me to be a certain way.”

“Mh,” Peter tilted his head. “I suppose I understand that. Christopher wasn’t home?”

“He… came home, later,” Stiles felt his cheeks heat up again. “We kinda… had a civilized meal with each other and talked and it… it wasn’t the worse.”

Peter snorted and shook his head. “Watch out, you’re growing fond of an Argent. Some wiseass told me that’s not a good idea.”

“Oh, shut up,” Stiles glared weakly before he faltered. “You get why I’m against him, right?”

“Do I, the man whose family was burned to death by an Argent, get why you’re against an Argent?” Peter cocked an eyebrow. “Sweetheart, we have dealt with three very murderous and dangerous Argents who were also proof of the baked in brainwashing of that family. Your concerns that Gerard’s son would be like Gerard’s daughter are understandable. Even Christopher understands it. The better question is: Why did you feel safe at the Argents’, then?”

Stiles remained quiet because he couldn’t answer that question. Or wasn’t ready to confront the answer to that question. Peter, thankfully enough, didn’t press the matter further.

/break\

“If you hurt my pup, I will feed you to the coyote,” Peter smiled sharply. “And I do mean the singular coyote. The one living in my house, who is as fiercely protective of Stiles as I am.”

Chris had gotten far too used to these Stilinski Hales just barging into his office. He just continued with his paperwork, letting Peter walk in, close the door and get comfortable.

“I thought he was the one I had to worry about being paranoid that I’ll hurt anyone,” Chris cocked one eyebrow. “What did I do to earn your distrust now?”

Peter smiled and shook his head. “I would very much like to trust you, Chris. I have trusted you so far. But you and Stiles are hitting a little too close to Derek and Kate. Stiles is still young, close to being eighteen but not yet, and you are… much older than your sister was back then. He’s also useful to you. Powerful, in general.”

“What are you accusing me of, Peter?” Chris narrowed his eyes at his old friend.

“Don’t play daft, it doesn’t suit you,” Peter held his gaze. “The two of you have been spending an awful lot of time together, alone. He went to your apartment when he was trying to hide from everyone. And you two had… dinner? He’s started to not just trust you but seek you out. I’m not sure how I feel about that, especially with your… age difference. And with our families’ history.”

Chris’ face fell and he sagged back in his seat some. He couldn’t deny his attraction to Stiles even if he wanted. The wolf in front of him would know he was lying. Did know he was lying already because he’d been smelling it for a while now, probably.

“I have no intentions of acting on it,” Chris sighed. “Not that he would be interested in me in that way. He may finally start to trust me, but not like that.”

Peter shot him a disbelieving look, but he left it at that for now. Chris slumped further down in his seat. Why was he falling for that ruthless, vindictive brat? There were two dozen divorced and widowed housewives batting their eyelashes at him, why couldn’t he find one of those interesting? Why did it have to be the person who’d make this the most complicated for him?

“Oh,” Peter whispered surprised. “You… have it bad for him. That’s… huh. I’m not sure what to do with that. So I’ll go home. But. Don’t you dare lay a single finger on him before he turns eighteen and don’t ever lay a finger on him if he doesn’t want it. All our friendship won’t save you.”

/break\

“They are disgusting,” Stiles muttered, his eyes narrowed. “Look at them.”

“I’m trying not to look at them,” Derek replied with a deadpan. “I prefer not to watch my cousin be… cutesy… with her girlfriends.”

Stiles huffed and nodded, pleased by that answer. Malia and Kira could barely keep their hands from Allison ever since they started dating. It was revolting. Stiles hated them. Why was he surrounded by cute, happy couples. He turned to glare narrow-eyed at Boyd and Erica.

“What? What did we do?” Erica asked immediately.

She was sitting on Boyd’s lap, putting sunscreen on his nose. Being disgustingly cute too. Sometimes, Stiles hated being single. He also hated beach days. Just because they lived in California didn’t mean they had to drive out to the beach to pretend they were normal teenagers.

“You might be the first teenager I met who is grumpy about a day at the beach.”

“Have you looked at me? Do you see this delicate, pale skin? I burn like a crisp when I get exposed to the sun for too lo…” Stiles’ irritated rant trailed off when he actually turned to look at Chris.

What with the large percentage of people without cars or driver’s licenses in the Hale Pack and the McCall Pack, Allison had used her puppy-dog eyes and dimples on her dad to make him drive her, Isaac and Kira to the beach. Stiles had been very annoyed about that, just as he continued being annoyed by every other aspect of this trip – the sun, the pretending they were normal teens despite the fucking assassins trying to kill them, the cutesy couples with their annoying PDA.

However, in that moment, all of Stiles’ annoyance melted away in the face of a swim-shorts wearing Chris Argent. He swallowed thickly at the image. Strong, thick thighs, that incredibly well-defined chest, adored by silver chest-hair, scars and tattoos. Stiles swallowed again, to avoid drooling.

“Stop it,” Derek growled lowly. “You smell even more disgusting than Malia.”

“Fuck you,” Stiles hissed back, glad that Chris didn’t have werewolf hearing.

Wow, that man was… A man. This was nothing like the awkward boys in the locker room. Stiles had had the desire to run his fingers through that silver-streaked beard for weeks now, but right now, the temptation of chest-hair was overwhelming. He tried not to follow the happy-trail, because staring between the man’s legs was something Chris was going to notice too. This was bad. This was really bad. His stupid attraction to Argent was supposed to go away, not get worse.

“Here,” Chris frowned concerned and handed Stiles a cold drink. “Your face is all read, I don’t want you to overheat. Also… maybe reapply sunscreen.”

“Y… Yeah,” Stiles croaked out and reached for the sunscreen.

“You could do his back for him, Mister A,” Erica suggested helpfully, smirking.

Stiles glared absolute daggers at the traitor who was getting disowned and pranked for that one, but before he could verbally argue the point, Chris took the sunscreen from Stiles. The cap popped and the next moment, large, warm, calloused hands were on his back. Stiles’ breath hitched and then he might have fully stopped breathing. He wasn’t sure though because his brain completely disconnected from everything at the sensation of those hands rubbing the lotion slowly down along Stiles’ spine, spreading it over his ribs, shoulders, even down his arms. He never wanted Chris to stop touching him again.

It wasn’t even just the horny part of his brain (though that too), it was about how… careful and gentle the touch was? Revered. Like Stiles was something fragile and precious that Chris cherished. Every brush of calloused fingers against Stiles’ skin sent shivers down Stiles’ spine with how thorough yet soft the touch was. Rubbing the lotion in, but not roughly. Patiently. As though he had all the time in the world, would take all the time in the world to do this.

“You good?” Chris asked, his voice gruff and too close, his breath puffing against Stiles’ neck. “I’m fairly sure you haven’t been quiet for this long since I met you.”

“I think the heat’s just getting to me,” Stiles croaked out.

How did he kill this attraction? As quickly as possible, please? How ridiculous was he, to be attracted to the very Argent he kept telling everyone to be cautious around. Chris smiled kindly at him and went to get a fucking umbrella to put up next to Stiles’ spot so he was protected from the sun. And Stiles’ stupid heart did stupid flips at it. Fuck, he was so screwed.

“At least he finally stopped complaining,” Boyd pointed out with a smirk.

“Why was he complaining?” Chris asked, like Stiles wasn’t literally sitting between the two.

“Well, Stiles thinks that this is bullshit,” Stiles said, shooting the hunter an unimpressed glare.

“…This?” Chris looked somewhat lost.

“Yes! This!” Stiles motioned wide, at everything. “Every part of this! We’re out here, playing around at the beach while the Benefactor is still on the loose, while your sister is still on the loose. My dad is still in a coma and I haven’t even solved the problem that put him there! We’re wasting time pretending like we’re normal teenagers, having a normal spring break experience, but we are not normal, nothing about our lives is normal and we need to focus on the important things!”

Chris frowned at him and the laughter and chatter of the teens around them had died down. Great. Now he was being the annoying buzzkill again, wasn’t he? He huffed frustrated and got up, stomping off. Where to? He didn’t know. Just away from them and their play pretend. Steps were following him and he really didn’t care which of them was trailing after him. At least until a strong hand curled around his biceps and stopped him before whirling him around. He turned with so much momentum, he nearly collided with Chris’ chest. Instead of taking a step back to bring some distance between them, or letting go of him, Chris just pulled him closer.

“You don’t have to shoulder every responsibility,” Chris murmured softly. “You don’t have to solve every problem. You don’t have to take care of everything.”

“Then who else will?” Stiles laughed bitterly. “Look at them. They’re having fun. They can just… step away from the problems like that stops them. I can’t. I can’t do that. I just can’t.”

He took a shaky breath and Chris drew him even closer, rubbing Stiles’ back soothingly. “Okay. Then at least let me help you shoulder that responsibility. Let me help you solve the problems. Let me take care of you.”

Stiles sucked in a breath at the way that made him feel. He reached up with every intention of pushing Chris away, but for some reason did his arms instead wind around the man’s neck and Stiles’ whole body curled against the hunter, tucking his head under Chris’ chin. Chris made a soft noise of surprise, but quickly tightened his arms around Stiles, hugging him close and making him feel like something precious that was worth taking care of.

“We’ve been at this for weeks now,” Chris whispered into his ear. “Nobody can be expected to work every day. You, all of you, deserve a break. You may not be normal teenagers, but you still deserve to experience normal things. Have fun.”

Stiles huffed, his forehead resting against Chris’ shoulder. He could still feel those large hands pressing against his back, one on his lower back, the other slowly wandering up until it squeezed his neck. Stiles gasped softly and felt like he was going boneless. He was pretty sure he could stay in Chris’ arms all day. It might actually fix him.

“Okay,” Stiles sighed, giving up. “Okay, fine. We’re doing one ‘normal’ day. But that means I get fries. Getting fries is part of the beach experience. Come on. You’re getting me fries.”

“Oh, I’m getting you fries?” Chris asked, an amused smile on his lips.

“Yeah. You just talked about taking care of me. Feeding me qualifies. You’re paying for my fries.”

Chris’ eyes were so soft and his smile was so warm and Stiles was so fucking screwed because he might be in love with an Argent. Fuck.

/break\

Chris frowned when he heard his daughter sigh across the living room. Looking up, he saw her worry her lips while typing on her phone.

“Everything alright?” Chris asked cautiously.

He hoped there was no relationship drama. Chris didn’t exactly have the most experience with those himself and he had no experience with polyamorous relationships involving a were-coyote and a kitsune. Allison shook her head a little.

“Malia is really worried about Stiles,” Allison replied. “It’s his birthday today. And he just messaged ‘I don’t want to fucking celebrate, there is nothing to celebrate, I’m turning my phone off. I’m FINE, Peter knows where I am, just leave me alone today. please’ in the group chat. She says that they’d gone to visit his dad yesterday and… I guess that there are still no improvements and Stiles… wouldn’t want to celebrate without his dad.”

She paused and looked at Chris softly. “I wouldn’t want to celebrate without you either. You’re the only family I have left. If you were… I wouldn’t feel like celebrating either.”

Chris furrowed his brows at that and nodded in understanding. It was Stiles’ eighteenth birthday. It should be special. But it made sense that Stiles didn’t feel like celebrating. Especially since, prior to this birthday, his family had only been him and his dad for so many years. Now, he had Peter and Malia too. But maybe that made it even worse. This was his first birthday that he could celebrate with a bigger family, yet instead the person most important to him was missing.

“I’ll call Peter,” Chris whispered softly. “See what he thinks. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

Allison smiled thinly at him and nodded. “Thanks, dad.”

She got up and hugged him tightly, startling him for a moment. Then again, all of this probably made her think about what she would do if it were her and Chris. He hugged his daughter back just as tight and, when she let go of him again, went to make his call.

“Unless you’re calling me to tell me you have Kate’s head on a silver platter, I am really not in the mood for anything today, Christopher,” Peter sighed annoyed.

“Is Stiles alright?” Chris asked immediately.

“Redundant question. I’m sure you know the answer already, otherwise you wouldn’t call.”

“Do you think…” Chris trailed off and thought better of it, not finishing the sentence.

“I do,” Peter sighed again. “I do think that it’d help if you went to check on him. But not right now. I think… I do think that he needs some time alone right now. You’re working today, right? Could you… text me, when you’re ready to head home and if Stiles hasn’t come home on his own by then… Would you go and get him?”

“Yes,” Chris answered with no hesitance. “Thank you, Peter.”

“I still don’t like it. It still raises my wolf’s hackles,” Peter pointed out. “But I’ve accepted that you really do care deeply for him. And that he trusts you. Just… make sure he gets home safely.”

/break\

Stiles had spent the morning with Peter and Malia, he had shared breakfast with them. Because despite his shitty mood and lack of desire for a real party, he was grateful to have them and he knew his dad would be devastated if he didn’t celebrate his birthday in any way or shape. He’d probably blame himself for it and feel guilty. So, they had pancakes and Stiles even allowed Malia to put a stupid 18 candle on them that they had decidedly not set on fire because of Peter.

But he’d fled the house pretty much right after. Not without sending texts out in the McCall Pack and the Hale Pack group-chats though. And not without telling Peter where he was headed. He had promised both Derek and Peter to do so, after all.

His first stop had been his dad. He curled together against his dad on the bed, feeling small and like a little kid, not like an eighteen year old. He just sat there, telling his dad about everything he could think of. A lot about Chris, even though he hadn’t meant to. Melissa checked in on him around lunch, sharing hers with him and then gently kicking him out of the hospital. Saying that this wasn’t the place for a young man to spend his eighteenth birthday.

She probably would have shot him a sad look if she’d known where he’d gone next. He spent the following two or three hours leaning against his mother’s headstone. Telling her everything, especially about how happy his dad was with Peter, how Peter was taking care of him now, with dad in the hospital. That he was glad to have Peter in his life, glad his dad got to be happy.

Eventually, he left and took a walk through the preserve, heading deeper and deeper. For a bit, he retreated into Malia’s old cave. She’d finally taken the things that mattered to her out of the cave when she had officially moved into the Stilinski home. But there was something… heavy, about that cave. About the fact that she had lived here, all alone, overwhelmed with guilt, for years. He paid his respects to Malia’s family, for whom Malia and Peter had built a little shrine in the cave. There was something about today, about missing his dad and mourning his mom, that had made him want to visit those Malia had lost. Because she had guilt herself a new family too, with Stiles. If she could go on, surely Stiles would be able to do it too, right?

His last stop was the Nemeton. For a while, he yelled at it. It was weirdly freeing. Blaming the stupid tree for everything – for being a beacon that drew in dangerous supernatural creatures, for granting Stiles his Spark that had put him on the deadpool and led to his dad getting hurt, for housing the Nogitsune but not being safe enough to prevent it from escaping and possessing Stiles.

When his throat was raw from screaming and the tear tracks dried on his cheeks, he laid down on top of the Nemeton. He curled together for a nap for who knew how long, but by the time he woke up again and rolled onto his back, the sky above him was pitch-black and sprinkled with stars.

Rustling at the treeline alerted him that someone had decided to track him down. It could be anyone from the Hale Pack or the McCall Pack, really. Since they weren’t trying to sneak up on him, and the Nemeton wouldn’t allow any assassin or threat near it, not anymore, not after how Stiles had warded her, Stiles just remained sprawled out and waited for them to approach him.

“You mind the company?” Chris asked, his voice soft.

Furrowing his brows, Stiles looked at the hunter. “What do you want here…?”

“Peter asked me to check in on you,” Chris went and sat down at the edge of the tree.

That wasn’t the real question. The question was why the Nemeton had not just let Chris wander into the clearing, but that the Nemeton had allowed him to seek her out specifically. Guess even Stiles’ stupid tree thought the Argent was trustworthy. Shaking his head, Stiles dropped the subject and instead returned his gaze to the night sky. After a moment, Chris laid down next to him.

“Have you been here all day?” Chris asked, no judgment in his voice, just curiosity.

“No,” Stiles scooted a little closer, because the night air was chill and the hunter was warm. “I visited dad. Then mom. Only came here after.”

“Mh,” Chris reached out to wrap an arm around Stiles’ shoulders to draw him closer when he noticed the subtle scooting. “And what are you doing here?”

“Yelled at the tree for a while,” Stiles shrugged and snuggled up against Chris’ side.

After all, Chris had pulled him closer so why shouldn’t he take the invitation? Soak up that body-heat, what with how chilly the night was and must have been for a while. He just hadn’t noticed because he had been outside for so long at this point, since before it got cold. Now, with a heat-source pressed against him, he noticed just how cold he really was.

“For a while,” Chris repeated, his knuckles gently rubbing against Stiles’ arm. “And after that? Did you fall asleep on the tree? That why Peter sent me to fetch you?”

“Stargazing,” Stiles whispered, voice softer and more fragile. “Mom and I used to do it. When I was a kid, the other kids used to bully me for my moles, you know. Called them weird and ugly, looking like dirt splattered on my skin. I punched them for it. And then cried in my mom’s lap.”

Chris’ arm around him tightened and he brushed his face closer against Stiles’ hair. It nearly felt like he’d kissed the top of Stiles’ hair, but that was wishful, silly thinking. Things he shouldn’t think.

“Mom took me outside to the backyard and we looked at the stars and she taught me all about constellations. She told me that my moles were like the stars. So we would spent hours and nights outside, looking for stars that looked like my moles.”

Chris hummed softly and then the two of them just laid there together in comfortable silence. Stiles thought he could stay in that moment for the rest of his life, because out here, in Chris’ arms, it felt like the world wasn’t broken, like he was safe and could get happy.

“There,” Chris said with determination, lifting the hand not holding Stiles to point at stars.

“Huh?” Stiles blinked confused, having dozed off a little bit.

“These,” Chris nudged him to follow his finger. “They look just like the moles under your right shoulder blade, the ones that stretch over your ribs.”

Stiles raised his eyebrows high at that. Chris had… seen him shirtless exactly once. At the beach. When he’d rubbed lotion on Stiles’ back. But he had memorized Stiles’ moles? Enough to even recognize the pattern in the stars? His heart was racing hard at that realization.

“What are you doing here, Chris?” Stiles asked, pushing upright.

He leaned over Chris, looking down at him. And Chris was looking up at him the way other people looked up at the stars. Stiles bit his lip, trying to swallow the excitement bubbling up in him.

“Peter told me to get you,” Chris repeated.

“No,” Stiles shook his head. “Not an answer. Why did you choose to come and get me? I have been an asshole to you the majority of the time that we’ve known each other.”

“Mh. I might have grown fond of you regardless of that,” Chris chuckled with a smile before growing more serious. “I got worried about you. Allison told me you decided you wanted to be alone today. But… nobody should be alone on their birthday. And spending it with your comatose father, your dead mother and… a tree… isn’t enough.”

Chris also sat up and reached for the bag he’d brought. He took out a box from Susie’s Diner and opened it. Stiles blinked and looked at the slice of cake inside. It was cheesecake with blueberries. His favorite. He looked up at Chris and just as the man opened his mouth to say something else, Stiles surged forward and pressed his lips against Chris’. The hunter was frozen in surprise.

“I’m eighteen now,” Stiles blurted out as soon as he retreated. “And you memorized my moles and you came to get me, even though I said I wanted to be alone, but I didn’t, not really. And it’s nice being alone with you. And I know I shouldn’t have fallen in love with you, I kept telling myself what a bad idea that is, but I still did, because you are… you are smart and kind and strong and soft and you make me feel… like I have a place to belong where I can just be me, as angry or sad or loud as I want, without feeling like I’m… too much.”

“Never,” Chris spoke so fiercely and reached out to cup Stiles’ face with both hands. “You could never be too much. You’re… exactly what I needed. What I want.”

Stiles swallowed hard at those words and nuzzled into the hands caressing him. “Okay… So… What does that… make us? I mean. You’re… only here to hunt your sister. You wanted to leave again. You’re… interim sheriff.”

Stiles reached out to trace the silver sheriff star on Chris’ chest. Chris sighed and let go of Stiles’ face to instead take his hand. He lifted it up to kiss it gently, then laid his other arm around Stiles’ waist to pull the Spark up against his chest.

“Allison has two girlfriends now. And she… has friends here. I think she’d love to finish high school here, with all of you,” Chris said vaguely. “And your father… Once he wakes up, he is going to require a lot of physical therapy and time to heal.”

Stiles appreciated that Chris hadn’t said ‘if’. He leaned forward to kiss the man again.

“You want to stay? In this hellhole?” Stiles asked, unable to keep the hope out of his voice.

“I’d like to stay, with you,” Chris whispered. “Look. I’m not… proposing to you, baby. But I would like to see where this could go, and I do think this is the right call for Allison too. We can still see what happens after graduation. You may not want to stay in Beacon Hills either.”

Stiles nodded slowly and buried his face in Chris’ neck. “Take it one day at a time. That’s a good plan. I like that. Just… having you. I mean, I am eighteen now, so… Because I don’t want to be hidden, or something you’re ashamed of or anything.”

“Okay,” Chris pressed a kiss to Stiles’ cheek. “How about, for now I take you back home. And tomorrow, I take you out for dinner? A date?”

Stiles’ heart skipped a beat and he nodded eagerly. “Yeah. Okay. I’d really like that.”

Before they left, Stiles did eat his slice of cake though. He wasn’t wasting Susie’s cake. He blushed when Chris fed him a bite with his hand and then, in return, Stiles managed to make Chris blush by licking the cheesecake bits off Chris’ fingers. A grin spread over Stiles’ lips.

“Little tease,” Chris growled, a half-hearted glare on his face. “C’mon, let’s get you home.”

The two walked side by side and Stiles let himself relax, talking to Chris about school and not thinking about all the things that could go wrong or hurt, just for once. It was just them, the preserve and the stars above them. It was pretty perfect. And when they reached Stiles’ house, Chris cupped Stiles’ face and kissed him softly until someone cleared their throat.

“Why, that is not entirely what I had in mind when I asked you to bring Stiles home safely.”

Stiles’ eyes widened and he flushed brightly as he brought distance between himself and Chris so he could look at the very judgmental Stepwolf in the doorway. Chris cleared his throat, but he didn’t push Stiles away. Instead, he kept one arm around Stiles’ waist.

“It can’t come as a surprise to you either,” Chris pointed out with a smirk.

Peter heaved an exasperated sigh. “Get inside, Stiles. It’s late and there is a pile of presents waiting for you from everyone. Christopher, have a good night.”

Stiles turned around to smile brightly at Chris one last time before the door closed. When Peter pushed himself into Stiles’ line of side, he didn’t look mad though. He looked… relieved.

“...We’re not going to have a fight about this, right? Because I would like to point out that it is my birthday and you shouldn’t fight with the birthday boy.”

Peter snorted and shook his head. “I’m not going to fight with you about this, Stiles.”

“Why not?” Stiles narrowed his eyes. “That seems suspicious, overprotective Stepwolf.”

“You smiled,” Peter offered in a soft voice. “A real smile, not a sarcastic one or one you put on to make others stop worrying about you. This morning, your scent was suffocatingly thick with grief and now you’re… lighter. Happier. I haven’t seen you smile in weeks, not like that.”

Stiles swallowed at that and nodded. The next moment, he wrapped himself around Peter in a hug, startling the wolf. He really was glad to have Peter here. The wolf returned the hug.

“Thank you,” Stiles whispered. “For being here. I know I was being difficult at first. Because I thought I needed nobody. But maybe I was wrong. Maybe I do need someone. I’m glad I have you.”

“And I’m glad I have you, pup,” Peter whispered. “Happy birthday, Stiles.”

/break\

“Are you alright, baby?” Chris frowned in concern, his hands gentle as they cupped Stiles’ face. “Are you hurt? Why are you here and not at the hospital?”

“Because the hospital costs money, Chris,” Stiles rolled his eyes. “Dad’s been in the hospital for months now, that’s going to be expensive enough as is. I’m fine.”

Beside them, Peter growled. “Now that we captured the Benefactor, I will get my money back soon enough and I will cover my mate’s hospital bills. My pup’s too.”

Another spectacular eye-roll from Stiles. “I still don’t need a hospital though. I was drugged and kidnapped. But it’s fine. The drug’s worn off a while ago.”

Chris’ hands started roaming Stiles’ body, checking for injuries. He also shot Peter a look, to make sure, because the wolf would be more honest about this than the stubborn brat Chris loved. When Peter gave a minute nod, Chris pulled Stiles into a soft kiss.

“I’m glad you’re alright, baby,” Chris whispered and wrapped his arms around him. “Give me the name of the one who took and threatened you so I can kill them.”

“Watch out, sheriff, that sounds illegal,” Stiles teased, poking the sheriff star on Chris’ chest. “Also, Parrish beat you to it. Put a bullet in Brunski and got me and Lydia out.”

Chris turned toward the deputy and gave a grateful nod. Parrish smiled back awkwardly. Getting the call that Stiles and Lydia had been taken, that they had discovered the Benefactor in the process…

“A banshee makes sense,” Peter noted, his eyes on the interrogation room on the other side of the glass. “She can predict deaths. She can sense the supernatural. And she… has lost her mind.”

“Peter’s right,” Stiles turned in Chris’ arms to lean against his chest. “She was already… When I was in Eichen House, she was hearing voices, I mean as banshees sometimes do, but I think that the voices really did drive her insane. Maybe she thinks that killing all supernaturals will stop the voices. Maybe she would even be right with that…”

Chris’ arms around Stiles’ waist tightened. He never meant to get involved in any of this town’s drama. And then he’d gone and fallen in love with its Spark. In his arms, Stiles heaved a deep sigh.

“You did it, baby,” Chris whispered, pressing a kiss onto Stiles’ temple. “You found the Benefactor. Malia and Lydia shut off the computer, no more deadpool. You ended the threat that put your father in the hospital. He is going to be so proud of you.”

Peter snorted loudly. “He is going to be furious that Stiles threw himself head first into danger again and nearly got himself killed. I think we are going to… edit this when we tell it to Noah.”

“No more lies,” Stiles grumbled softly. “I promised him.”

“Yes, well, telling him the story and not telling him every tiny detail is different. It’s not necessarily a lie. We would be omitting some more upsetting aspects,” Peter argued.

Chris couldn’t argue with that. He may not have met the man in person yet, but he could understand how he, as a father, would feel about all of this. He’d already been terrified out of his mind hearing his young lover had gotten into this kind of trouble. If it were Allison… Chris didn’t even want to consider how the man was going to feel about Stiles and Chris’ relationship.

/break\

Stiles was beyond exhausted. His head tilted to the side, resting against Chris’ shoulder. The hunter wrapped one arm around Stiles’ waist to pull him closer. Humming contently, Stiles nuzzled into his lover. Today had been too long and too exhausting. He’d used so much of his magic.

“I can’t believe it’s over,” Stiles whispered, turning his head a little to look at Chris. “You okay?”

“No,” Chris replied honestly, shaking his head. “I just helped kill my sister. I know she became a monster – long, long before she was turned. But… she was also my family. She was once… before our mother had died and father had twisted her mind like that, she was a normal girl.”

Stiles turned so he could wrap both his arms around his boyfriend, even if it was a little awkward in the backseat of a car. Chris turned enough so he could press a kiss to the top of Stiles’ head. They’d finally faced off against Kate, in Mexico. It had been a brutal battle, her Berserkers were a dangerous force to face. But in the end, Chris and Peter together had finally ended her.

“What do you need?” Stiles asked softly.

“Whatever it is, surely it can wait until we are back in Beacon Hills,” Peter pointed out from the passenger seat. “I am exhausted too and if I have to watch you two make out-”

“Yeah,” Malia on Stiles’ other side agreed. “This is already a tight enough squeeze. Please don’t.”

Stiles snorted and shot them a look. The five of them were crammed into the car, with Derek behind the wheel. It had been a… big group trip, they’d split up into different cars. Stiles got his family and his boyfriend. Allison was riding in another car, with Kira, Lydia, Scott.

“Can I stay over at Chris’ today, Stepwolf?” Stiles asked. “I kinda don’t want him to be alone.”

Chris huffed, a warm smile on his lips. “I… would appreciate having you at my side, baby.”

“Fine, fine,” Peter heaved a sigh. “Just be… careful.”

Multiple voices of protest rang out at that, including Derek too. Stiles laughed softly and snuggled more against Chris. Sex was the farthest from Stiles’ mind, really. He just wanted to comfort the man he loved, who had just killed his sister. Stiles took a moment to let it settle in that they had finally ended the last threat. The Benefactor and Kate were both taken care of.

/break\

When Noah woke up, he needed a while to orient himself. Everything was hazy. And there were so many people fussing over him. Doctors and nurses. Melissa had hugged him with tears in her eyes, which confused him. He must have been seriously hurt. The doctors did a lot of tests on him and by the time he was released from them, there were Peter, Stiles and Malia, hugging him with tears in their eyes. At that point, he’d already been informed of his coma. Three months.

“I’m sorry,” Noah whispered against Stiles’ head, pressing a kiss to it. “I’m so sorry.”

He looked at Peter with sad eyes. He couldn’t imagine how much this must have worried his wolf, who had already been in a coma himself. He must have been terrified for Noah. And Stiles? His son, who had already lost his mother? Noah’s arms tightened around the three of them.

“Don’t do that again,” Malia ordered with a grumpy glare. “Dad and Stiles were inconsolable. And Stiles was really, really bad when they hired the new interim sheriff.”

“Oh, that poor guy,” Noah made a face. “How expensive does the apology gift I owe him have to be? How bad were the pranks and threats? Did you rally the deputies against him?”

“Oh, darling,” Peter chuckled as he looked up at him.

“What?” Noah frowned confused and looked from Peter to Stiles, who was blushing. “What did I miss? Go on. Tell me. I’m sure there is a lot that happened in the past three months and I want to be caught on by everything, but… what is this about?”

“So the interim sheriff is Chris Argent, Gerard’s son, and he came to town to fight Kate and I might have antagonized him a little at first, okay maybe a lot, but then I kind of fell in love with him and he has been so… supportive and understanding and now we’re dating.”

“The… interim sheriff?” Noah frowned deeply. “I assume that is a man of a certain age?”

“His daughter is going to school with us,” Malia supplied. “She’s mine and Kira’s girlfriend now.”

Noah just grunted, unsure how to digest all of that. “Peter, why is a grown man dating my son?”

“Because nobody your son’s age can keep up with him?” Peter suggested with a half-shrug, but the look on his face softened. “Christopher was… there for Stiles. And Stiles let him close, he was the one person Stiles allowed to comfort him, even when things were… rocky between us.”

“Rocky?” Noah frowned at Peter and Stiles. “Why?”

“Because we both suck at communicating our feelings and can be real assholes?” Stiles shrugged. “It kinda clashed sometimes. We were both really worried about you and, you know.”

“Bad at expressing it appropriately,” Peter tagged on, a little sheepish, his eyes sad as he looked at Noah. “These past three months were… incredibly hard.”

Swallowing hard, Noah pulled his wolf into a gentle kiss. “I’m sorry I left you alone for so long. I’m not going to… judge you for how you got through that. I will still have a talk with that man.”

“First, you get well enough so you can come home,” Stiles argued, clinging tightly onto his dad.

Noah smiled faintly and hugged them even tighter. He was going to see that man for himself and judge his character and intentions. Healing, learning about the past three months, putting the fear of god in that grown man who was dating his son. Yes, that was a good plan for now.

/break\

It took a few days for Noah to be ready to return home, even as he tried to fight the doctors on it. Physical therapy was in his future and he had no idea when he’d get to return to work. Or if. The look on Peter’s face wasn’t too sad about that, he was fully planning for Noah’s retirement. In a way, Noah understood. After all, Noah had just gotten hurt so badly it had put him in a three months coma. Wanting to protect Noah from further harm was only reasonable. So for now, Noah put a pin on that conversation and would concentrate on his physical therapy.

“He makes it really hard to hate him,” Noah complained with narrowed eyes.

Peter next to him chuckled. They were in the living room, and Noah’s gaze was on Chris and Stiles in the kitchen, cooking side by side. They were having a family dinner together. Malia, Allison and Kira were upstairs until dinner was ready. Allison was a sweet girl. Chris was… a lot. He was so old, much older than anyone Noah had ever pictured for his son. He was sheriff, a good one too. Noah had talked to all his deputies at this point and apparently, Chris was doing a good job. He was also Peter’s best friend, their old friendship having become even stronger since Chris had moved here. And Stiles loved that man. Was truly, deeply in love with him. It was the way Chris looked at Stiles though, with the same kind of love and adoration that Noah used to look at Claudia. That Noah looked at Peter with now. It was plain to see that Chris wasn’t just with Stiles for some ulterior motif or out of lust. He had genuine feelings for Stiles.

“How do I accept this?” Noah sighed, waving at Chris and Stiles. “He’s old. He’s the sheriff.”

“He’s in love with your son,” Peter shrugged. “And Stiles is old enough to make his own decisions. Not just because he’s eighteen. He’s only barely eighteen. But that boy, in that short life of his, has already lived through so much trauma and misery. He has lived lifetimes. Losing his mother, your… alcoholism… me as a feral Alpha, the kanima, the Argents, the Alpha Pack, the Darach, the Nogitsune, the deadpool… That boy has seen more than nearly all his peers ever will.”

“You’re right,” Noah frowned deeply and reached out for his wolf.

Of course Peter was right. He knew exactly what his son had lived through, had survived. And the responsibility he was already shouldering, at that young an age. To be the Spark of Beacon Hills. There was so much pressure on Stiles. Noah’s eyes softened when he watched Stiles laugh while Chris was nosing at his cheek. He hadn’t seen Stiles this carefree in years, since before the supernatural became a part of their lives. It was good to see that side of him again.

“Christopher makes him happy. Brings out that… carefree side of his that I didn’t even know he had,” Peter said with a small smile. “And Stiles allows Chris to be there for him.”

“You know,” Noah didn’t hide his smirk. “For only being your stepson, Stiles is an awful lot like you, Peter. A striking family resemblance there.”

“Oh, do shut up,” Peter huffed a little flustered, but leaned in to kiss him.

“No PDA!” Stiles yelled from the kitchen. “Go get the girls, dinner is ready.”

Noah huffed, while Peter went upstairs. Yes, first and foremost, he was glad Stiles was happy.

~*~ The End ~*~

Notes:

Kicking this year's Writer's Month off with a long one, because it doubles as my entry for the Teen Wolf Rare Pair Bang!! It was a TON of fun, especially coordinating with my incredibly talented artist, sa-ua! [art will be embedded in the fic once it has been posted]

Series this work belongs to:

Part 1 of Phoe's Writer's Month 2026 (Stiles Summer Stories Vol 3) Next Work →

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