Work Text:
Teen Wolf || Steter || Teen Wolf || Returned and Rekindled || Teen Wolf || Steter || Teen Wolf
Title: Returned and Rekindled – Stiles Summer Stories 2026
TW Disclaimer: All rights reserved to Jeff Davis and MTV. This fanfiction on the other hand is entirely mine. No money is made with this, though reviews are more than welcomed.
Tags: m/m, post season 2, True Mates, Aftermath of Gerard’s Torture Basement, amnesia, hurt/comfort, fluff
Main Pairing: Peter/Stiles
Teen Wolf Characters: Mieczysław 'Stiles' Stilinski, Peter Hale, Derek Hale
Writer’s Month Prompts 2026: memory + sunrise
Summary: After his resurrection, Peter is amnesic. For reasons Stiles doesn’t understand, Peter keeps following him like a lost puppy. Because, stripped of all memories, all Peter knows is that he trusts Stiles, even if he doesn’t remember him.
Returned and Rekindled
Stiles Summer Stories 2026
Stiles had made it out of the Argent basement with Boyd and Erica. Didn’t catch a break after that, of course. Got to drive Lydia to a warehouse in the middle of nowhere so they could save Jackson from turning into what looked like a horrifying dragon. It was like this horrible day just refused to end, really. There was a fight, against the Argents, and a betrayal by Scott, and a somehow alive Peter Hale in the middle of it, suspiciously doing as Derek told him. But on a day like today, it was more of a ‘sure, this might as well happen’ than anything else.
So Stiles accepted it and, when all was said and done, he got into his Jeep to drive home. Every part of his body hurt and he wasn’t exactly looking forward to going home either, really, because his dad had asked very fair and reasonable questions and Stiles had given him absolutely blatant and obvious lies as answers. Like their relationship wasn’t fragile enough as was right now…
He parked the Jeep, ran a mournful hand over her dented hood where he’d driven through the warehouse wall, and then headed inside. His dad wasn’t home. Figured. The station was severely understaffed after Matt’s attack. Sighing softly, Stiles headed into his bedroom. He gingerly took off his clothes, down to his boxers, and came to stand in front of his mirror.
Gerard really had done a number on him. He pressed ginger fingers against the bruised ribs and winced at the pain that blossomed from the touch. Not broken though, he was fairly sure broken would feel different. Not that he really had the mind for either of them, but broken ribs felt like something he should get checked out at the hospital.
“You’re in pain. Why are you in pain.”
Stiles screamed. It was high-pitched and would have embarrassed him in virtually any other setting. He stared into Peter Hale’s reflection in his mirror, just over Stiles’ shoulder he could see the man. Whirling around, he fixated the murder wolf with a wide-eyed stare. The window was open. The undead wolf had climbed in through his window. Was this a family trait?
“W… What the fuck… What the fuck are you doing here?” Stiles asked, voice a little shaky.
Today was one of these days. The somehow alive wolf Stiles had set on fire might as well come to him to demand his revenge. Tear out Stiles’ throat or something. Stiles swallowed hard. Couldn’t he ever just catch a break? He tried to inch away from Peter, but Peter was quicker, had Stiles pinned against the wall. There was a frown on Peter’s face as he reached out toward Stiles’ face. Stiles closed his eyes tightly, expecting the claws to dig into his throat. Instead, surprisingly gentle fingers cupped his cheek, a thumb brushing just below his bruised cheek.
“Who hurt you?” Peter asked.
Stiles cracked an eye open and was startled by the concern in Peter’s eyes. “W… What?”
“Who hurt you?” Peter repeated. “Why would they hurt you?”
Stiles swayed a little when the wolf used his wolfly pain-drain. The ache all over finally subsided, the stinging in his ribs disappeared, he could finally breathe properly for the first time all night. When he swayed, Peter’s other hand moved to grab Stiles’ shoulder and steady him.
“Easy, sweetheart,” Peter murmured softly. “Come, let’s sit you down on the bed.”
Why was Peter Hale being… nice? Helpful? Why was he even alive? Stiles blinked sluggishly. Maybe this was a hallucination or something. Or a dream? He’d be lying if he said that he hadn’t thought about Peter. That moment in the parking garage, the way Peter had held his wrist, had offered him the bite, it had been so intimate. The man was hella good looking, so maybe he had spent some time thinking about what might have happened if he accepted the bite. If he could have been enough to save Peter – three Betas, a stable pack, Stiles there to steer him. But he probably just read too many YA novels, or fanfiction if he was being honest, because he didn’t get some epic fairy tale romance where he, merely by existing, changed the big bad.
“Why are you here. How are you alive. What do you want.”
Peter tilted his head and looked weirdly like a cute puppy at that. “I don’t know.”
Stiles frowned and then he opened and closed his mouth repeatedly. “What.”
“You were at the warehouse,” Peter said. “I saw you. And picked up your scent. When… Derek… left with the pups, I decided to follow your scent.”
“Why,” Stiles frowned deeply because this was getting creepy.
“You smell like home,” Peter replied, looking far too genuine. “I decided to follow you.”
“I… What,” Stiles shook his head. “Have you lost your mind, Creeperwolf?”
“Apparently,” Peter answered with a short nod. “Derek, he says that… there was a fire. And I was in a coma. I don’t remember any of that. But when he told me, we stood… we stood in our house and there was nothing but ruins and ashes there. He tells me that… that our family is gone. That we are the only ones. I don’t want to believe that’s true, but I can feel my broken pack-bonds. When I try to reach out for my sister, my brother, my mother, for anyone but Derek, I… I feel the frayed ends of broken pack-bonds. They’re gone. And I don’t know how it happened. Our home is gone. And I don’t know how it happened. But you smell like home, so I followed you.”
Oh. Stiles stared baffled at Peter. Lifting one finger up, Stiles reached for his phone with his other hand and quickly dialed Derek’s number, hoping the Sourwolf would actually pick up.
“Stiles,” Derek growled annoyed. “What’s wrong?”
“Your… apparently amnesic and somehow alive uncle… is in my bedroom,” Stiles said. “Please come and pick him up because I have no idea what to do with that.”
“What,” Derek sounded annoyed and confused now. “Why is he with you?”
“I don’t know! You’re the wolf! You figure it out!” Stiles huffed. “Just… come get him.”
Peter just stood patiently before him and watched him curiously. After he hung up, Stiles realized that he was still only in his underwear so he reached out to grab a shirt at least.
“You have reached new levels of creepy,” Stiles muttered frustrated.
“New levels?” Peter tilted his head again. “So we do know each other, yes?”
Stiles did not have the capacity for this one. He just nodded and then prayed Derek would hurry.
“Uncle Peter,” Derek growled the moment he climbed into the bedroom. “Why are you here?”
“Because our home is gone,” Peter frowned at him. “And I don’t know you. Not this you. The Derek I know was a smooth-faced child. You’re… You’re a man. You look more like Damon than you do like Derek. And you behave strange, you glower and growl all the time. Derek never used to do that. You brought me to an abandoned train depot. That’s not a place to live, that’s not an appropriate pack den! I don’t want to be there.”
“...He got a point there, Sourwolf,” Stiles muttered. “The train depot is weird and gross.”
“See,” Peter smiled pleased and motioned at Stiles. “The pretty one agrees with me.”
“T… The what,” Stiles sputtered and flushed.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know your name,” Peter frowned at him like that was the problem with the statement. “Would you prefer ‘sweetheart’?”
“Derek,” Stiles turned toward the other wolf in the room. “Seriously. This isn’t even amnesia anymore. What the fuck is wrong with him. Did he break when he… Why is he alive?”
“Resurrection,” Derek muttered sullenly. “He used me and Lydia for it, somehow.”
“Right,” Stiles nodded. “And besides his memories, did he also leave his common sense and I don’t know what else behind in the grave, or…?”
“Why are you here, uncle Peter?” Derek asked with a heavy sigh.
“He smells like home,” Peter frowned. “And he’s injured. I needed to make sure he was safe.”
“Why did you need to make sure of that?” Derek asked carefully.
“I… don’t know,” Peter’s frown deepened. “I know I need to protect him and want to be close to him. I trust him. He’s… mine.”
“Getting a restraining order in the morning,” Stiles muttered beneath his breath.
“He… He’s your mate,” Derek whispered stunned, then turned to shoot Stiles a look. “Did… Did you know this? Did he ever… tell you, before his… death?”
“What. No. What,” Stiles blinked repeatedly and looked between the Hales. “Have you lost your mind now too, Derek? I’m not Peter’s mate. That’s like… Scott and Allison. The dumb, blind devotion. Not harming a hair on her pretty head. Always prioritizing her above all else…”
Stiles trailed off very slowly and replayed the way Peter had never actually hurt him, even when he tore through everyone else as meaningless collateral, how Peter had taken him to begin with even though he could have tracked Derek down some wolfly way too, the damn bite offer… Was he actually Peter Hale’s True Mate? He turned to stare wide-eyed at Peter.
“Am I your mate?” Stiles asked.
Peter blinked at that and looked thoughtful. “That makes sense. Talia and Fiona told me a lot about how it feels, for them, with their mates. Though I don’t even know you, I trust you and want to protect you. Yes. You didn’t know? So I didn’t tell you, before I lost my memories?”
Stiles breathed deep and then just collapsed backward onto his bed. Sure. Why not. The formerly feral Alpha was his soulmate. The currently amnesic murder wolf wanted to protect him. He tried to ignore the warm feeling in his belly at the notion. Peter was smart, and strong, he surely would be able to. Not that Stiles needed protection. But after tonight… he kind of wanted it.
“Please leave my house,” Stiles requested. “Today was already enough even without some resurrected soulmate reveal. I need sleep and ten painkillers.”
“Stiles…” Derek trailed off for a moment, looking reluctant. “Come find me, when you’re up to it. We have some books about werewolf culture, about True Mates too.”
Stiles blinked at the unexpected offer. “Okay. Thanks, Sourwolf. Good night.”
“Good night, sweetheart,” Peter smiled at him.
“Stiles,” Stiles said when the wolves were already halfway out of the room. “My name is Stiles.”
Even after the wolves were gone, Stiles couldn’t seem to fall asleep. He kept staring up at the ceiling, thinking about Gerard, the basement, the kanima, Jackson and Lydia, Scott leaving the Hale Pack, Peter’s resurrection, the fact that he now had a soulmate. And before he knew it, sunrise was lighting up his room in golden hues and he hadn’t slept at all. Great. Just great.
/break\
The pack – and ‘the pack’, at this point, meant Derek, Isaac, Boyd, Erica, Stiles, Peter, Jackson and Lydia, who insisted on being put in the know after the kanima mess – was very divided on what to do with Peter. Lydia voted setting him on fire again, since he had messed her up pretty badly with the resurrection. Most of the Betas, who hadn’t known Peter when he was feral, argued that he’d been useful and that he didn’t seem like a danger. Derek didn’t want to lose more family again, but he was clearly uncomfortable with Peter’s amnesic state.
The Sourwolf would rather have his cunning, scheming uncle than this walking, talking reminder of what he’d lost. Peter, who talked in present tense about Talia and their family. Who would smile kindly, because he hadn’t been jaded by trauma. Who didn’t know he’d killed Laura.
As much as it freaked Stiles out, he wondered if returning Peter’s memories wouldn’t be more punishment than anything. But then some people thought he deserved a certain amount of punishment for all he’d done. Stiles was mostly just confused, if he was being honest.
So Stiles, Boyd and Lydia threw themselves into research. To figure out what Peter had done exactly for his resurrection – so they could return Peter’s memories, but also so they’d know that there was no lingering risk for Lydia. And also so they might be able to figure out what exactly Lydia was, since she clearly was something. Something that could resurrect people.
Of course did things in Beacon Hills not truly calm down. They never did. There was always a new threat right around the corner. So researching whatever monster attacked them this week came on top of the research they did into the resurrection. And all throughout it, Stiles had an oversized puppy following him around. Just literally following him around.
“You know what,” Stiles huffed annoyed. “If you insist on stalking me, at least be useful. Go and get two carriers of bottled water. The sparkling kind.”
Peter blinked at him, before he smiled and nodded. “Yes, dear.”
Stiles groaned at that. The wolf had followed him to the grocery store and then followed him inside the grocery store, so he figured he could put the man to good use. Instead of chasing Peter away, it seemed to please the wolf. Like they were playing house or something.
“Why are you like this?” Stiles muttered frustrated. “It’s been a month. You keep following me around and doing what I say. Why. You don’t even know me.”
“But I would like to,” Peter said as he put the water into the cart. “You’re my mate.”
“That’s stupid,” Stiles groaned. “You don’t even know me! How can you be this… this okay with that. I’m just some random, scrawny teenager. Shouldn’t you be pissed off about all of this?”
“Because… I’m a born wolf,” Peter frowned at him. “My parents were True Mates, I grew up seeing them love each other, the dedication between them, the devotion. There is no bond comparable to that between True Mates. My brother Aaron found his True Mate when we were teenagers – when I brought my best friend home one day. She looked at him and knew. He’s human, so he doesn’t feel it the same as a wolf, but Fiona, she’s a wolf. Also, you are quite beautiful.”
Stiles’ heart clenched a little at the way Peter still spoke about his family in present tense, he also ignored the compliment. Them being dead still wasn’t real to Peter. Even though he could feel the broken pack bonds, all of it was something he had been told, not experienced.
“Your brother was human,” Stiles frowned at that bit. “I didn’t know that.”
“Aaron takes after our mother,” Peter smiled at him. “Our mother, Dalia, she’s a Druid. She was the apprentice of our pack’s previous Emissary, when she fell in love with my father. He’d realized she was his True Mate right away, but he was, apparently, an awkward teenager about it. Which always seemed ridiculous to me. My father, the regal Alpha of the Hale Pack, a fumbling teenager?”
Stiles couldn’t help but smile softly at that. He liked this side of Peter. The soft side. The love he held for his family, the way he spoke about them. It was dangerous, because what had been physical attraction was slowly developing into more and Stiles could not be falling in love with Peter Hale. Not with this soft, kind Peter Hale. Not when they were working on restoring his memories and Stiles had no idea what kind of person the jaded, traumatized, resurrected Peter would be.
/break\
Stiles was used to staying at the loft. Often times, he just forgot time after a research session, but then there were also pack nights. It was good, that Derek had bought a proper place to live. The Hale Pack was thriving with that. They were growing closer too, Derek and Peter were training them to be real wolves. Peter was becoming more and more of a problem for Stiles though, because he had definitely fallen in love with the wolf at this point. So when they finally figured out how to give Peter his memories back – and also realized that they had to, because if not all of Peter was returned, then it was dangerous for not just Peter but also Lydia and Derek, since they had been involved in the resurrection – Stiles kind of mourned losing what he had now. The kindness, the gentle touches and words, the smiles. Because once Peter remembered all the loss and trauma, all the things that had been done to him and that he had done, he’d change. Stiles knew that.
Stiles knew what trauma did to a person, had seen it in himself and in his father too. Peter had been feral because he had been abandoned, sure, but his bloodlust and need for revenge? That was the trauma. That was his way of coping. All the loss and pain had left him with jagged edges and Stiles was afraid to cut himself on those. The Peter he had first met had been driven by revenge, had taken what he wanted. Even Stiles. Even if he hadn’t actually given Stiles the bite, he had still kidnapped Stiles, just because he wanted his mate. So what kind of man were they returning?
Stiles was too afraid to find out so once the spell was performed, he kind of hightailed it out of the loft and decided to hide out in his room. He sat curled together on his bed, watching the sunrise and waiting to hear back from anyone. Thinking about all the good memories he had made with Peter over the summer. All the shared research, the soft moments, the way Peter had told him about his family, the way Peter had listened to Stiles talk about his own family, and his interests, and just… everything. Peter would look at him so attentively and soft… Stiles was going to miss it.
“Hello, sweetheart,” Peter smiled warmly at him as he climbed in through the window.
Stiles frowned deeply at that. “Did the spell not work? Lydia should have texted me if it didn’t.”
Peter tilted his head curiously at that, regarding Stiles with amusement but also a hint of sadness. “I’m afraid it worked quite well. I very vividly remember burning in my home’s basement and hearing my family die around me. I remember being abandoned by Derek and Laura. I… remember killing Laura for invading my territory, for abandoning me, for the Alpha spark. I also remember how you set me on fire and how my dear nephew tore out my throat.”
Stiles nodded and bit his lip. “Then why are you here?”
Peter was still smiling at him as he approached. “I also remember the past two months with you. With the pack. I remember that you know now that we’re mates. I remember going grocery shopping with you and being snarked at by you and cooking for you. So when I woke up with my memories but you weren’t there, I had to come looking for you.”
Stiles blinked repeatedly and stared at the man. “Oh. Why. I mean, I just…”
“Why weren’t you there?” Peter asked. “I know that the friendship we built since my resurrection is real. I know that. I know you care for me, at least in that capacity. So… where were you?”
“I didn’t…” Stiles bit his lips. “I thought… If you remember everything, all the trauma and pain and the way I helped set you on fire, I was sure it’d change things. And I don’t… I don’t know how to handle that because I do care about the you I met over the summer and I don’t want to lose him.”
Stiles’ fingers curled tightly into his jeans, until they were gently eased off by Peter. “Oh, sweetheart, you can’t lose me. You are my mate. The affection I hold for you only deepened.”
Maybe soft Peter was all Stiles’, then. Stiles swallowed hard and, having Peter so close, darted forward to kiss him softly. Peter curled his fingers around Stiles’ neck and deepened the kiss.
~*~ The End ~*~