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Title: Stranded in Silver Lake – Road-Trip for the Heart

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/m, polyamory, canon divergence, Pack Alpha Peter, Spark Stiles, fluff, explicit intercourse, anal, oral, double penetration, m/f

Main Pairing: Chris/Peter/Stiles

Side Pairing: Boyd/Erica

Teen Wolf Characters: Mieczysław 'Stiles' Stilinski, Chris Argent, Peter Hale, Derek Hale, Cora Hale, Erica Reyes, Vernon Boyd, Isaac Lahey, Allison Argent, Sheriff Noah Stilinski

Summary: After college graduation, Stiles wants to go on a road-trip. He doesn't make it far before the Jeep breaks down. With the cost of the repairs and the time it'll take Peter the Hot Mechanic, Stiles decides to stay in town and get a job at the bar Chris the Hot Silver Fox owns.

Stranded in Silver Lake

Road-Trip for the Heart

Stiles was finally free. After years of suffering idiotic professors, annoying exams and essays, surviving mostly off of ramen, and living in his small, crammed dorm room with his obnoxious roommate, he now finally had his Master's Degree in Library Science.

It had been so sweet, his dad, Melissa, Scott and the whole pack had come to Beacon Hills to celebrate his graduation after he returned home, taking pictures and videos and showering him with flowers, chocolates and praise. It was rare to get to see them all in one place. Ethan and Jackson had live streamed the actual graduation for them and Stiles was grateful to them. Hell, Stiles was grateful to the couple about a lot of things. Sure, he'd come to London to reconnect with Jackson, but it had really meant a lot to have someone in this foreign country, to not feel so alone.

The McCall Pack rarely saw each other as a whole anymore. They had video-chats, phone-calls and text-messages, sure, but with college, they didn't get to see each other in person as much as they'd all like. Christmas usually drove everyone back home to Beacon Hills, even Stiles (and sometimes, he'd even been able to convince Jacks and Ethan to tag along), but Stiles didn't make the trip during regular breaks and he knew not all of the others did either; be that the couples taking actual vacations together, or the students working extra jobs during the summer to make ends meet.

As happy as he was to see them all, the happy couples also did make him feel a bit like shit. Five years of college and he came out of it pathetically single. He'd had random hook-ups, but never anything that lasted longer than a couple weeks. Malia remained, to date, his longest lasting relationship. But her and Kira had started dating during the second year of college and they were still going strong. Hayden and Liam had gotten back together when the kids started college too, while Corey and Mason were still as happy as they'd been in high school.

The biggest surprise, to Stiles, had been that Scott and Lydia had found together. Stiles had had a crush on Lydia for so many years and always pictured her as his 'endgame', but then life wasn't fiction and his story didn't end with 'and they lived happily ever after'. They tried to date briefly in high school, but came to the conclusion that they were better off as friends. Meanwhile now, more grounded, older and more experienced, Lydia and Scott seemed to be making each other happy. They had grown gradually closer during high school already, especially after Lydia's stint in Eichen House, Scott had been a pillar for her. But when college more or less tore their pack apart and forced them to rely on phone calls and texts, it seemed Scott realized how much she meant to him. They'd been doing the long-distance thing throughout their respective Master's and Stiles knew they were planning on moving in together, now that they'd both be back in Beacon Hills full time.

Stiles was happy for them, for all of them. He just wished he could get some of that too. Someone who looked at him like he had hung the moon, the way Scott looked at Lydia. Someone to have that same easy familiarity with that Corey and Mason shared. The passion and desire that was palpable between Malia and Kira. The blind trust, even when they were fighting or arguing, that Hayden and Liam had. The soft comfort and snark that Ethan and Jackson had.

Somehow, his graduation party with everyone had made him feel both happy and sad at the same time. Like he was moving forward and simultaneously standing still. Because sure, he had his MA now, he could get a job, start earning money to get his own place. But before he could do that, he'd inevitably move back in with his dad, so he could save up enough for his own place. He was… back in Beacon Hills, the place where not just his pack but also his trauma were at home. There had been something incredibly liberating about college, having his own place (even if shared with his roommate), about no longer being in Beacon Hills. Fresh streets and buildings without memories of pain and trauma. And now he was back in the town where he'd lost his mom, been hunted, possessed, tortured, nearly killed. He'd move back into his childhood bedroom, most likely fall back into old patterns and behaviors.

Malia and Kira were already living back in Beacon Hills, Malia never having left the town and Kira moving in with her girlfriend after college. Lydia and Scott had been looking for a place even before graduation and since they'd known they would be moving in together, they had been saving up for it for a year. They were ready to move in and start their life together.

Stiles would be back home, with the majority of the pack (the Puppy Pack was still away for college, but they'd be home during however many breaks they could come home for), he would be graduated, and yet… and yet he felt left behind.

The others were ready to start their new, fully grown-up lives with their respective partners, in their own apartments. Stiles would be back home with dad, single and struggling to keep up with them. He'd get there, he knew that, once he had his own job, he'd be saving up and be out of his dad's place within less than a year, he was sure of that. But still.

"You worked hard, kiddo," Noah said, sitting down next to Stiles. "You accomplished a lot."

"Yeah," Stiles offered a weak smile. "Sitting in my childhood bedroom, it just kinda doesn't feel that way, you know? We helped Lydia and Scott move into their fancy new apartment last week."

"I know," Noah sighed and patted Stiles on the back. "You're getting there too. C'mon, don't make it sound like such a hardship to live with your old man."

Stiles huffed and elbowed his dad. "You know that's not the problem. I love you. I just… Even though we're all college graduates now and we're the same age, it feels like the others are more… adults than me? Partners, own places, a life plan. My life plan is to hopefully get the job at the local library, make enough money to get my own place and then… get my own place."

"The problem with adulthood is that everyone takes it at their own pace," Noah argued. "When I was done with high school, I signed up for the academy. Classmates of mine went on to get a BA and an MA, one even became a professor. Others focused on the private. Two friends of mine got married right out of high school. Absolutely terrifying to me at the time, I'd barely had like one relationship. Another came out a single mom because she'd had an unfortunate hook-up during prom. The two married straight out of high school? Divorced. Him twice divorced now, her trice. The single mom? Went to night school, got a degree, got married to a guy she met at night school and two more kids with her husband."

"I get it, dad," Stiles sighed and collapsed backward onto his bed. "Just because someone is in one place of their life doesn't mean that has to apply to me too. I know that. It just… feels different when you're surrounded by it, you know? And this town… It's not really helping me feel all that more grown up. I walked past mom's shop the other day. There's a coffee shop in it now, but all I could see was six-year old me sitting on the counter, trying to help mom with a flower arrangement. I applied to the library, and to the school as the school librarian, but when I was in the school, all I could see were all the dead, everyone we lost over the years in that school, every time a monster hunted us in it. It… feels like a weight tied to my ankle, dragging me down and back into the past."

Back to times where he'd felt helpless and alone and vulnerable. Noah hummed softly and patted his son's thigh comfortingly.

"Get out of town," Noah suggested. "This isn't college. You don't have a deadline for when you need to start. Take some time off, do something you always wanted to do."

Stiles bit his lip hard. He'd always wanted to go on a road-trip, and his dad knew it. His mom had promised him they'd go on an epic college road-trip during his junior year of high school. That had been silly and so far away to him back then, seven years old and barely in school. Due to his dad's job, Noah couldn't just take a couple weeks off to tour colleges with him. In the end, Stiles had skipped the states-wide college tour to go to London anyway, best Library Science program in the world, and it gave him a chance to reconnect with Jackson. They had grown closer after the possession, even if Jackson hadn't lived in Beacon Hills during it, having moved to London with his parents the summer before. The experience he'd had with the kanima was similar enough to give him an understanding of what Stiles had been through that nobody else shared. They'd spent many long nights talking on the phone back then and it had felt good to talk to Jackson in person again.

"Yeah," Stiles whispered, smiling just a little bit. "Maybe it's time I finally go on that road-trip."

"Yeah, maybe it is," Noah smiled at his son, before his expression got a little sadder. "But I need you to stop being so hard on yourself, kiddo. Just because your friends are in serious relationships and you're single doesn't mean you're behind. You have lived through tremendous trauma in high school, it's a miracle you survived that and the fact that you seamlessly went to college after? You prioritized your recovery and your education over romantic relationships. That's not a flaw or fault, that doesn't put you behind in life. I am incredibly proud of the man you've become and all you have achieved, you hear me, Mietek?"

Stiles blinked away tears and wrapped his arms tightly around his dad. Well, if he put it like that, yeah. Maybe his dad was right. He'd overcome a lot and he had always only put half his focus on it, the other half going to his education. So he hadn't found True Love yet. He'd overcome his nightmares, where he couldn't go a week without flashbacks and night terrors during high school, he now only occasionally dreamed about the Nogitsune, maybe every two months or so, he knew how to deal with his PTSD, he could be open about the trauma he'd suffered. And he had the academic success to show off too. He could be proud of all of that. Love would come when the time was right for it. Now that he had done all that, he had time to actually go looking for it.

/break\

Three and a half hours. That's how long he made it from leaving his dad's front-door. Three and a half hours. And an hour of that had been spent in Silver Lake. Maybe he shouldn't have gone through the neighboring town. The winding mountain road was always a test. It was also unnecessarily long. A straight line and they could probably be in Silver Lake in half an hour, instead of snaking their way in a safe snail's pace through the twisted path up and down the mountain.

But Roscoe managed the mountain road! Stiles made it to town, went to the overpriced restaurant directly by the town's namesake lake for nostalgia's reason, because they used to spend their summers here. Back when his mom was still alive.

After eating and wandering the town a little bit, he got back into his car, determined to take flatter, straighter roads from heron out. The plan was to head to LA and then San Francisco and then, well, he had a map and he wanted to wing this. Wanted to be spontaneous, see places he'd never been to. Go wherever the road took him.

The road took him about half an hour out of Silver Lake before Roscoe died a sputtering, smoking and rumbling death. Stiles just sat there, staring at the smoke billowing from Roscoe's hood. That wasn't good. That wasn't good at all.

He stumbled out of his car and rounded her to check what the damage was. Not that he was a car buff, but he had done so many emergency repairs on Roscoe over the years. Well. Not in recent years. Which might factor into her sudden death.

He hadn't been able to take her to London with him, of course. Shipping a car from the states to England was an expense he did not need, it'd been the better solution to leave her in his dad's garage and buy a cheap car for the time in England. So she hadn't seen much action in the past five years. And then Stiles had to test his luck with the bumpy, winding mountain road to Silver Lake.

"Come on, baby girl, you can't do this to me," Stiles pleaded, trying his best to fix her.

And then it started to rain. Because of course it did. He tried to find shelter under her open hood, tried to see best as he could with the flashlight on his phone, until that failed him too. At first he cursed, confused, just to realize his phone was dead.

It was already dark outside. He had no phone. No car. It was raining. If this were a movie, this would be the part where he'd get axe murdered.

Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and tried to figure out what to do next. He was like twenty minutes outside of Silver Lake. He could walk that back, right? Better than to try and move forward to Fox Creek. That was further away. Going back it was, then.

He hunched in on himself, hood drawn over his face even though it didn't do much because he was already soaking wet as was. Twenty minutes in the rain. Well. He was on foot so probably more like thirty. Forty? Someone shoot him now.

/break\

Chris smiled to himself as he cleaned a glass, his eyes on his husband's ass. What a view. Maybe he cleaned that glass a little more thoroughly than usual, but Peter was wildly distracting. That damn wolf was practically mounting the pool table and he was doing it on purpose.

"Just make the shot, uncle Peter," Derek requested with a heavy sigh.

"Do not rush me, nephew," Peter growled low in warning, throwing a slight glare at Derek. "If this doesn't hit because you distracted me, I demand a redo."

"He takes pool far too seriously," Boyd commented at the bar.

Boyd was leaning against the bar, beer in hand, his eyes on his mate even as his ears were apparently on his Alpha. In the corner at the dart board were Erica and Isaac, playing a little less competitively than Peter was with Derek. At the table by the backdoor sat Cora and Allison, Cora's books and papers all around them as Cora was finishing up an essay for a summer class she decided to take, while Allison was reading a book.

Chris loved these lazy kinds of nights, where their entire pack was gathered in the Silver Moon. Well, the entire pack sans Laura, who was living her best live in New York working at the Broadway and heading toward her first big breakthrough.

The night was made cozier by the storm outside. There was something so comforting about being warm at home with his family while the rain was hitting the windows hard and lightning periodically lit up the sky. They'd spent another two or so hours here, together, before closing up and then Chris would get to drag his husband upstairs.

Peter had been in a mood all day, ever since they'd seen some pretty boy at the restaurant during lunch. He'd drawn Chris' attention at the obscene moan the boy gave when first biting into his burger and then Chris had stared to watch wide-eyed how the boy sucked sauce off his long fingers, plush, pink lips wrapped around the digits. It had been… an inspiring show, for sure. But it had gotten under Peter's skin even more because, apparently, the boy smelt absolutely delectable. Wolves relied a lot on scent and scent was a big part of attraction for them. The way Peter talked about sweet honey and sharp lightning made him sound like a starved man describing his last meal.

The boy had finished lunch before them and left though and Peter hadn't been able to catch his scent so they could drag him back to their place and have him for dessert. It wouldn't be the first time Chris and Peter found a twink to share. Alas, the pretty boy had escaped them, which put Peter into a mood, torn between arousal and frustration. Chris was more than happy to help out with that.

Chris was startled out of his thoughts by the bar's door opening. Cold, harsh wind blew rain in as a lanky figure ducked into the bar, the hood of a red hoodie drawn deep. Slowly, Chris put the glass he'd been cleaning down. The bickering pack around him quieted down too.

The bar wasn't exclusive to the pack, but it was unusual to have customers walk in during that kind of weather, at this time during a weekday. And being a pack of werewolves, they tended to be careful and wary about these things. It could always be a threat coming to harm Chris' wolves.

"Oh my gods, it's warm and dry," the person groaned, pushing the hood off. "Fuck yeah."

Chris stared wide-eyed at the pretty boy. Soaking wet, his dark hair flat against his head, looking a bit like a sad kitten that got into the rain. His pale cheeks rosy from the cold and pink lips slick with rain. The biggest possible doe-eyes were staring around the bar while the boy took off his dripping wet hoodie. The white shirt he was wearing under his hoodie was wetly clinging to his skin, tracing a lithe definition and showing off rosy, tempting nipples that poked hard from the cold against the shirt. His already skinny-jeans seemed painted on due to the rainwater too. Chris was not a teenager anymore, he should not get half-hard just from such a simple visual. And then the boy stuck his tongue out and licked the rainwater off his lips. No, Chris was apparently not strong enough for this.

"My, my. What brings Little Red Hood into an establishment like this?" Peter asked.

His voice was a purr and he was leaning against the pool table, hip cocked and drawing attention to his legs and crotch. Chris heaved a sigh at his husband, but he also went ahead and started making a tea for the wet and certainly cold boy.

"Bringing cake and wine to my grandma," the boy quipped back and rolled his eyes. "Mostly I am looking for the dry and the warm, but I'm also looking for the mechanic. I was told at the gas station that the best mechanic in town is next door to the bar and could be found inside the bar at all times. Which is. A bit concerning, in my opinion, but hey. Who am I to question things."

"Congratulations, you found the best mechanic in the county," Peter proclaimed delighted.

"And the most humble one too," Chris noted dryly.

It earned him a soft giggle from the boy, cheeks turning even rosier. The wet kitten patted over to the bar and tentatively sat down on a barstool. Peter followed right behind and sat down next to the boy, close next to the boy. Chris put a hot cup of tea down in front of him and the boy immediately latched onto it with both hands, giving a blissful little moan. Mh, Chris wouldn't mind drawing more of those out of the pretty kitty.

"Allison, can you go and fetch a towel, please?" Chris requested from his daughter.

Allison nodded, put her book down and headed out back. The bathroom, office and the kitchen were that way, as well as the staircase up to Chris and Peter's place.

"Here's the towel, dad," Allison put it on the bar and returned to Cora.

"Go on," Chris motioned from the boy to the towel. "It's for you. So you stop dripping a slipping hazard all over my bar."

Ducking his head, the boy grabbed the large towel and started ruffling his hair until it was fluffy-up and standing into every possible direction, before he continued on trying to rub the rest of himself dry. Yes, Chris decided. The image of a disgruntled kitten after a bath was incredibly accurate.

"You're looking for a mechanic," Peter nudged the conversation back.

"Uhu. My car broke down, like, half an hour-ish outside town? I walked back," the kitten scrunched up his nose cutely. "Can you tow her in the morning and take a look?"

Oh, those pretty doe-eyes could go even bigger as he looked at Peter hopefully. "Sure thing. Half an hour-ish outside town in which direction? And what car am I looking for? In case there are multiple broken down cars along the road."

"Took the road toward Fox Creek. She's a baby blue Jeep, hard to miss. I'll… Uh… Do you have a pen and paper or something? I'll write you my contact info so you can call me when you got her?"

Chris provided a notepad and a pen to the kitten. He squinted upside-down, trying to read the boy's name. He was fairly sure he was misreading the scrawny handwriting though.

"Stiller? Is that your last name?" Peter asked, leaning over the boy's shoulder.

"Stiles and no," the kitten, now identified as Stiles, tore the paper off and handed it to Peter. "It's a nickname. Thank you."

"Well then, Stiles," Peter practically purred that name in a borderline obscene way. "I'll call you when I have your car at my shop."

The boy's face lit up in a breathtaking way and Chris was taken aback by how beautiful he looked. "Thank you, you are a life saver."

"It's my pleasure. And my job," Peter winked at the boy, earning a slight blush.

With that taken care of, Stiles returned his attention to the still warm tea, sitting hunched over and wrapped up in the fluffy blanket while sipping his tea. He was very cute. And Chris Hale did not use the term 'cute' lightly. Turning toward his husband, Chris exchanged a look with Peter. There was pure hunger and desire in Peter's ice-blue eyes and Chris felt like it took his husband a lot to not flash his eyes red and sink his fangs into that pale, long neck. Which was a bit surprising and unusual. They liked to indulge in pretty twinks, but this one really seemed to affect Peter's wolf.

Perhaps Chris and Peter still had a chance to lure the pretty boy into their bed after all. Whatever kind of repairs there were, Peter was most likely going to need more than just tomorrow afternoon to take care of them. Maybe Chris could lay out some kitten treats, straight into their bed…

/break\

The hot silver fox bartender was actually a saint and Stiles' new favorite person, Stiles decided as he woke up the next morning. He'd rented the cheapest possible room in the cheapest possible establishment in the whole town. The mattress sucked, the room was tiny and the water pressure had been pathetic when he took a hot shower last night, but it got the job done and Stiles was absolutely not wasting a single cent more than he had to. However, with all of that, he was all the more grateful to the hot silver fox bartender for his kindness last night. The warm tea, the fluffy towel (as opposed to the scratchy towel in his motel room).

Stiles went and got a coffee and a bagel at a coffee shop along the way to the mechanic, dreading the verdict. He'd woken up to a text from an unknown number this morning, informing him the Jeep had been towed. Small mercies, that Stiles hadn't forgotten his wallet and his charger in the Jeep, otherwise he would have been severely fucked last night.

(And he had already come out of that bar wishing he'd get severely fucked. That silver fox could have bent him over the bar right then and there and Stiles would have thanked him for it.)

As soon as Stiles rounded the corner into the car shop's parking lot, he nearly dropped his bagel and coffee. Roscoe stood in the parking lot, hood up and one of the finest pieces of ass that Stiles had ever seen in his life sticking out over her. Tight jeans did nature's perfection every favor in the book. To keep himself from actively drooling did he shove his bagel into his mouth and approached.

"Are you aware that there are about three entire rolls of duct-tape inside this Jeep?"

Stiles startled when he was addressed despite having quietly approached. The man, aptly saved as Hot Mechanic in Stiles' phone now, straightened up, still leaning against the open hood of the car in a way that made his impressive arms bulge and drew attention to his broad shoulders. He pushed off the car and wiped his forehead with the back of one hand. There was some grease smeared over his cheek and his too tight, sleeveless white v-neck shirt. Stiles swallowed hard.

"That wasn't a rhetorical question, darling," Peter raised one very judgmental eyebrow. "Has this car ever, in all of its existence – and that is a long existence, this car is nearly twice as old as you are – actually seen a professional?"

"She isn't that old!" Stiles protested offended, face flushing. "And, uh. She has. Sometimes. I just. Do you have any idea how expensive car repairs are?"

Peter raised both of his eyebrows this time and motioned behind him, where a sign claimed HALE CAR SHOP. Right. The mechanic who took care of cars for a living knew exactly how expensive car repairs were. When was the Earth going to open up and swallow him whole…?

"Okay, look," Stiles heaved a sigh and put his nearly empty coffee down next to the Jeep. "I don't need all of that fixed, I don't think I would ever have enough money to afford that anyway. Just… Can you make her run again?"

It was kinda cute how Peter looked near physically pained by Stiles' words. "You do realize that a lot of 'all of that' is what factored into her dying, right? You kept delaying minor repairs and it made them bigger problems. This isn't just an issue of 'part x broke, I'll order a new one to replace it'. This is a bigger project."

"Bigger project meaning… expensive and time consuming?" Stiles guessed, rubbing his face.

"I'm afraid so," Peter returned his attention to Roscoe. "I haven't surveyed all of the damage – there is so much duct-tape to peel off before I can even see the damage – but I'll contact you once I have an estimate of what absolutely needs fixing for this car to ever run again."

"Okay," Stiles nodded and bit his lip hard.

There was a pause and then Peter sighed. "You know it might come you cheaper to just buy a used car and leave this one here. It'll also allow you to be on your way again. These repairs will take weeks, plural. I may not know how long exactly just yet, but I can promise you that."

"No," Stiles' voice was so sharp, it startled the mechanic. "No. I'm not… I can't abandon her. She is… She's the only thing I have left from my mom. Please. I don't care how much it'll cost or how long it'll take, I need her to run again."

He turned to look at Peter with big, hopeful and wet eyes. The thought of Roscoe dying for good actually physically hurt. Peter furrowed his brows and rested a comforting hand on Stiles' shoulder.

"Okay," Peter's voice was softer this time. "I'll see what I can do."

/break\

Peter leisurely rolled onto his belly, folding his arms over his husband's chest and gently tracing tattoos. Chris looked at him with hooded eyes and wrapped one arm around Peter's waist.

"So the pretty boy is going to stick around for a bit," Peter grinned wolfishly at his mate.

"Peter," Chris drew his eyebrows in deep. "You're not finding more faults with his car than there are just to keep him here, are you?"

That actually made Peter snort out loud. "Babe, you should see his car. I don't have to look for broken parts, they are literally falling out of that rust bucket. There was so much duct-tape inside that machine, I still have glue residue under my claws. And so do Boyd and Derek."

The frown on Chris' face changed a little at that, but it remained. "You're gonna give him a discount, aren't you?"

"Have you seen those big, sad Bambi eyes?" Peter huffed. "How can anyone deny him anything? Besides, if we get him in our bed, he's getting the Good Boy Discount."

Peter winked at his mate, but Chris just rolled his eyes. "Don't make the kitten feel like a whore."

"How dare you," Peter gasped and smacked Chris' chest before slowly attacking the man's neck. "I would never. It's not like I'd tell him about the discount and then offer our bed in exchange. I want that boy on our dicks first and when he's soft and pliant in our bed, I'll tell him about the discount and he will be so blissful and fucked out, he won't try to fight me on it."

Chris shook his head exasperated but at least he didn't argue any further. Instead, he just pulled Peter into a slow, deep kiss. Peter's eyes fluttered shut, his hands slowly wandering over Chris' chest. He loved his mate, more than he ever thought he could. All his life, his pack had been his priority. First as his sister's Left Hand and then, after the fire when he had become the Alpha to his nieces and nephew, he had to keep them together and they had to heal. He never had romance on his mind, until six years after the fire when Chris and his daughter Allison moved to Silver Lake. Not that it was necessarily love at first sight, oh no, the Hale and the Argent had clashed. But the heat soon turned into passion and now Peter couldn't imagine a life without Chris at his side.

The two of them were a perfect match. They fought well side by side, led their pack together. The passion and heat they shared could be rough, yet they shared just as much gentle tenderness. Both had led lives of violence and pain and they were happy to provide soft comfort for each other.

Part of what made them fit so well was their shared desire for having a pretty little thing submit to them in bed. Now, Peter had always enjoyed dominance and submission to equal parts, he loved giving up control when it was for his husband but he also loved being in control. It was Chris who didn't enjoy submission, so the perfect solution they had found for each other was to occasionally take a pretty boy home with them who was willing to submit to them both.

Peter thought that Stiles would look perfect on his knees in front of them, cheeks flushed and mouth open. For what purpose, Peter hadn't decided yet. But he was sure that those plush lips would feel amazing around his cock and he was also confident that the boy would make endearing noises when driven mad with pleasure. Now Peter just had to lure the boy into their bed.

/break\

Stiles was slumped over at the bar, nursing a non-alcoholic beer solely for the mood. The stuff tasted disgusting, but it was a 'drinking beer at the bar' kind of feeling. Pouting, he folded his arms under his chin and watched the hot silver fox wipe down the bar. At least the view was good.

He'd gotten a rough estimate from Peter the Hot Mechanic earlier and it didn't look good. Neither time-wise nor money-wise. Now, he could admit defeat and return to Beacon Hills. Call his dad or Scott and ask them to pick him up, leave the Jeep with Peter the Hot Mechanic. But he didn't want that, didn't want to give in. Not only because this would mean he would spend his summer back in his childhood home, living with his dad and being actually stuck due to a lack of car, but also because his dad would totally want to help out with the high bill and Stiles couldn't have that.

"Why do you look like a sad kitten someone locked out of the house?"

Blinking, Stiles looked up at the hot silver fox. Next to him, perky blonde was mixing cocktails that looked like they gave instant cavities while flirting with the tall, dark-skinned man sitting at the bar and smiling at her like she was sunshine personified and he was basking in it. Two older guys were bickering at the dart board and drinking beer. There was, evidently, not much going on right now.

"I brought my car to the hot mechanic," Stiles sighed and sat up a little. "And the hot mechanic told me it was going to be expensive and time consuming. Which are already bad as separate issues, but together? So now I have two options and I'm not a fan of either."

The perky blonde turned toward him at that and grinned. "Sell your body to 'the hot mechanic' in exchange for car repairs?"

"Erica," silver fox reprimanded her with a stern glare.

Stiles just blushed furiously at where his mind was running at that. Please, sir, I would do a—anything to reduce the bill, he would ask. And Peter the Hot Mechanic would look at him with a smirk and those ice-blue eyes and ask anything, you say? while caging Stiles against the Jeep and then Stiles would drop down onto his knees and—

"What are the options?"

Stiles startled and turned toward the guy Erica had been flirting with, who looked somewhat constipated and dear gods he was a werewolf and had just smelt Stiles' dirty thoughts, hadn't he? Stiles' blush intensified and he ducked his head.

"Well, I could leave the car here, to be repaired by the hot mechanic, and have someone pick me up. I haven't actually gotten far, I'm from Beacon Hills," Stiles explained. "But that kinda sucks. You see, I just graduated from college and I came home and I've been a bit down about it, I guess? Because all my friends who also came back from college are happy couples and are either already living together – like, her girlfriend never left Beacon Hills, so my friend Kira just gets to smoothly move in with her – or they have been planning to move in together and got a place together. Now me, I am pathetically notoriously single and I can not afford a place fully on my own yet, so for me, it was move back into my childhood bedroom at my dad's. And I love my dad! I love the idea of spending more time with him! But it feels like… like a set-back? After I lived alone for years at college, coming back and moving back in with him, especially with all my friends being in a different stage of life, you know?"

"Sounds that way," Erica offered and hopped onto the bar. "So what's option number two?"

"Stay here," Stiles replied, nipping on his drink. "I could get a job, earn hopefully enough to cover the bill so I won't have to get into my savings. Which, I guess it was a stupid idea to burn my savings on a road-trip, but hey…"

The silver fox looked curious at that. "Road-trip? Where are you going?"

"Were," Stiles corrected sullenly. "And I didn't really have a plan, that was half the fun. I just wanted to… get away for a bit. It was dad's idea, let me enjoy my post-graduation freedom before settling in. I figured I'd head out for Los Angeles and San Francisco first and then just… see where the road takes me, or something like that."

"Chris can sing a song or two about that," Erica grinned, nudging the silver fox.

Chris. So the hot silver fox had a name. Chris sounded like a very whine-able name. Stiles could imagine himself in bed whining that name, for sure. He nipped on his beer again.

"You do a lot of road-trips?" Stiles asked softly.

Chris smiled and not only did it make his steel-blue eyes crinkle prettily, it also looked so soft and warm that Stiles' heart fluttered. "Me and my husband, we're both bikers. We sometimes take our machines out on the road, just driving. Went to Vegas last year, the first year our girls were at college, we took the summer to drive all the way to New York to visit our oldest."

Husband. So the hot silver fox was married. With multiple college-aged children. Stiles deflated some and took a long drink from his beer. It couldn't get him drunk, but it could at least cover up the pout until he could rein that in. The door to the bar opened, drawing their attention.

"I need a beer," Peter the Hot Mechanic sighed as he pushed in.

"I need something stronger than beer. I still have duct-tape residue everywhere," Grumpy Mechanic with the angry eyebrows declared where he came in after Peter.

"Don't be so dramatic, Derek," Peter rolled his pretty blue eyes.

Stiles tilted his head and watched the two mechanics join him and Erica's unidentified boyfriend or potential boyfriend at the bar. Peter came to sit next to Stiles, smiling charmingly at Stiles. Oh hell yeah. Okay, if the hot silver fox was off the table, maybe, if Stiles was going to stay in Silver Lake for a while, the hot mechanic was on the table. Honestly, Peter could totally bend Stiles over a table, Stiles would not mind.

"Beer for the hot mechanic and something stronger for our nephew," Chris declared.

His eyes were crinkling as he smiled at Peter and put the beer down in front of him. Peter grinned, looking very pleased, while Stiles blushed embarrassed and hoped that Chris wouldn't rat him out.

"Hot mechanic?" Peter asked amused. "Did you do something and are trying to butter me up, dear?"

"The way I recall it, you're usually the one in the dog house in this relationship," Chris chuckled and rested a hand on Peter's. "And no. It's just how you have been described to me."

His eyes briefly went to Stiles and Peter followed Chris' line of sight and please someone just shoot Stiles right now. Groaning, he tilted his head down to bury his face in his arms.

"I was just telling Stiles here about our road-trips," Chris continued after a moment. "Seems he was just at the start of a road-trip of his own when his car died."

Our road-trips. Stiles slowly lifted his head. He looked between Chris and Peter, looked at Chris' hand on top of Peter's, looked at the wedding band on Chris' hand but Peter's bare finger. With sharp eyes did Stiles look up Peter's arm, to his delectably broad neck where a golden chain was around, disappearing under his obscenely tight grease-stained shirt. The bump showing against the tight shirt could be a ring on a chain.

"You two are married," Stiles concluded and then narrowed his eyes at Chris. "You could have stopped me the second or third time I called your husband 'the hot mechanic'."

"Why?'" Chris frowned at Stiles while his fingers caressed Peter's wrist. "You're right, after all."

"Aw, babe," Peter smirked and leaned over the bar to capture his husband's lips in a kiss.

Stiles' brain died. A quick, pathetic death, accompanied by an internal screeching sound. Damn, those two looked hot together. Quickly, Stiles turned away from them before he'd get any more ideas that could reflect in his scent.

"What kinda job were you thinking?" Erica asked, picking up their earlier conversation like Peter and Derek hadn't interrupted at all.

"Pole dancing?" Stiles offered dryly. "I have no idea. Do you know a place looking for a hire? I could be a barista or a waiter, I don't know."

"How about bartending?" Chris asked. "It's summer now and business is gonna pick up any day. Usually, I got one of our girls to help out, but she decided on summer classes this semester so she won't be working behind the bar. I could use a help."

"I did some bartending during college," Stiles perked up. "Wait, are you serious?"

Chris shrugged and nodded. "I could use the help, you could use the money, and a pretty face like yours is gonna go well with the young customers."

"I call bullshit on that. A hot silver fox like you goes far better than lanky, awkward me."

Erica was downright cackling at that. "DILF isn't everybody's type, Stiles. But between Chris, me and you, we got a lot of ground covered, I'd say. Chris, it's time you hire a MILF, for balance."

Chris shot her a dry look and then held out his hand to Stiles. "Congrats, you're hired. Come by tomorrow at three, I'll show you everything."

Stiles squeaked and grabbed the man's hand, shaking it. "You will not regret that, sir."

Chris' face did something very strange at that, before he grunted. "Just call me Chris."

/break\

The way the boy had called him 'sir' haunted Chris that night and his wolf got to really test his stamina thanks to it. The next day, Stiles showed up as requested and Chris got him familiar with the bar and tested what the boy could do. A perk was that Stiles actually knew how to make frilly, fancy cocktails because he'd worked at an uppity bar in London. The only cocktails on their menu right now were whatever Erica concocted that didn't give anyone alcohol or food poisoning or make them spit up. It was very hit or miss. But Stiles knew actual cocktail recipes and even Chris liked some of them.

A week into Stiles working for him, Chris was damn pleased with the boy. He was charming, funny in a snarky way and very easy on the eyes. Especially the ladies in their twenties to forties flocked to him. And just like predicted, over the following days, business did pick up. The tourists were slowly coming to town for the summer.

Stiles immediately hit it off with Erica, which was nice and troubling at the same time. The two got up to shenanigans within days of knowing each other. On the other hand did Chris like that the boy was so readily accepted by the pack; with Erica's approval came Boyd and Isaac's approval too.

"You really don't drink, huh," Erica noted while nipping on the newest cocktail Stiles had made.

"Nope," Stiles grinned and mixed another one for Allison.

"But you worked at a bar," Cora asked, nursing her own cocktail.

Cora and Allison were sitting at the bar, taste-testing together with Erica. Chris was close enough to listen in and observe without actually participating. After adding the last decoration, Stiles handed a fruity orange and red drink to Allison who happily accepted it.

"I mean, working at a bar doesn't require you to drink," Stiles blinked doe-eyed at Cora.

"Okay but is there like a reason you don't drink?" Erica asked curiously.

Stiles shrugged and turned a little away from them while busying himself. "My dad was drinking a lot after my mom died. I tried it, when I was a teen, and pretty quickly realized the temptation to just drown your problems is… pretty big. So I kinda never touched the stuff again, just to be sure."

"I'm sorry," Allison whispered. "My mom died when I was sixteen, dad and I moved to Silver Lake after. How… How old were you when it happened?"

Stiles looked up too lock eyes with Allison for a moment. "I was eight."

Chris squeezed the glass in his hand a little tighter than necessary as the urge to hunt pull the boy into a hug overcame him. Putting the glass down, Chris stepped up to Stiles and at least gave his neck a gentle squeeze.

"I'm sorry for your loss," Chris' voice was a low murmur. "How… did you cope, when your father was drinking? Did you have family that helped you out?"

Stiles leaned into his touch but then snorted. "No. I kinda took care of everything? Myself, dad, the household. It got better when he stopped drinking, but I still pretty much ran the household until I graduated and went to college."

He'd been a child and he ran the household and took care of himself and his dad? Chris furrowed his brows, suppressing the need to drag the boy upstairs into his and Peter's apartment and take care of him. Spoil him some. It sounded like Stiles could use some pampering and comfort.

"The road-trip," Stiles said after a moment of hesitance. "My mom always wanted to go on a college-tour road-trip with me, talked about it with sparkling eyes when I was little. When I was actually looking at colleges… well, she was dead and dad's job didn't exactly leave him with weeks to spare, so I never did the college tour. Dad suggested I take a road-trip now, to make up for it. Guess I am just not meant to do this, huh?"

He twisted his lips into a sad echo of a smile and determination set in Chris' gut. He was going to take that boy on the road, one way or the other. He wanted to wipe that sadness off Stiles' face and make him smile genuinely. It was in that moment that Chris realized he might be falling for the boy, that the past week of spending every day with him had made the sexual desire shift into something more. That wasn't ideal, but Chris had no idea what to do about it.

/break\

So Erica was a total badass and her boyfriend's name was Boyd, who actually worked at the mechanic shop with Peter and Derek. There was Chris' biological daughter Allison, as well as his adopted son Isaac, and Peter and Chris' niece Cora. That was kind of the inner circle of the Silver Moon bar. Two weeks into his stay in Silver Lake and working at the bar, Stiles was a hundred percent sure they were actually a pack of werewolves.

"This is nice," Stiles commented while sucking on the straw of his non-alcoholic cocktail.

"It is, isn't it?" Erica clanked her glass against his. "My favorite lunch break show."

They were sitting out in the backyard of the bar, on sun chairs, facing the garage. Boyd and Peter were working on cars right now. Greasy and sweaty in the sun, muscles bulging when they tightened a nut or did anything else physical. Stiles swallowed hard when Peter leaned over the car.

"This one has to bring the shop a lot of money though," Stiles noted. "I may not be a car buff, but I do recognize that this is an expensive car."

"That one doesn't bring the shop any money," Derek commented annoyed as he got out. "If anything, it costs the shop. It's uncle Peter's private pet project."

"Delightful alliteration," Stiles grinned broadly and then turned his attention to Peter's ass bent over the car. "That's a cool project though."

Peter turned to look at him with a charming smirk. "I have another one that I already restored. It's my baby and I take good care of my baby."

"Stop making it sound sexual, you are talking about a car," Derek heaved a sigh and walked over to join Boyd. "The new part for Stiles' death-trap arrived."

"Hey!" Stiles threw the cherry from his cocktail at Derek. "Don't talk about Roscoe like that! She has been loyal and good to me all this time."

"Until she died and stranded you here," Boyd pointed out helpfully. "You walked through a storm for half an hour to get back to civilization."

Stiles winced at that and sipped his cocktail. "Shut up."

Boyd snorted and rolled his eyes before returning to work. So Stiles knew it was childish to cling onto Roscoe, but she really was the last thing he had left of his mom. Walking past his mom's shop, completely revamped, nothing like what it used to be when he was little, had broken his heart. He couldn't lose Roscoe, it felt like really losing all of his mom.

"I'll fix your Jeep, darling," Peter spoke gently and was suddenly next to Stiles, squeezing his arm.

Stiles startled and then blinked up at Peter, a weird feeling somewhere between relief, gratitude, fondness and also mild irritation took over. Being who he was, he latched onto the irritation.

"Keep your nose out of my emotions," Stiles glowered at Peter. "Thank you, for taking care of Roscoe, but don't do this. I hate when wolves do that. I don't need you snooping in my emotions."

Peter, Erica, Boyd and Derek all froze where they were. Oh please. Did they think they were subtle? Snorting, Stiles emptied his cocktail.

"How did you…" Peter trailed off, looking intensely at Stiles.

"You mean aside from the way you guys scent-mark each other, growl repeatedly and what a tight-knitted bunch you are?" Stiles asked, eyebrows raised. "I saw Boyd and Derek lift a car the other day because they were too lazy to get the jack lift."

Peter turned to shoot Boyd and Derek a look, causing both to shift on the spot awkwardly. So Stiles' hunch about Peter being Alpha was right. Him and Chris. Alpha Pair. Damn. Stiles really was aiming so far out of his league, they were literally playing a different ballgame. Werewolves. Alpha werewolves, at that. Stiles swallowed hard.

Fingers gently traced Stiles' jawline before a hand cupped his chin and tilted it so Stiles was looking up at Peter. "And how do you know about werewolves, darling?"

Stiles swallowed hard, feeling heat pool in his belly at the way Peter was holding his face, making him look up at the wolf. "I'm, uh, part of a pack. The McCall Pack of Beacon Hills."

Peter hummed curiously, blue eyes turning a brilliant red. Okay, that should not be hot. Stiles never found it hot when Scott did that, but oh boy, Peter flashing his eyes Alpha-red made Stiles' pants tight. He flushed embarrassed, even more so when Peter's nostrils flared.

"What did I just say about keeping your nose out of my emotions?" Stiles hissed at the wolf.

"You do realize we can't turn our noses off, right?" Erica snorted amused.

"But he could have the decency to just pretend he didn't smell anything. The way people tend to just pretend they don't notice someone farting in public," Stiles groaned annoyed. "Just… shoo."

He swatted at Peter, causing the Alpha to growl amused and flash his eyes again. "Darling, you smell far too tempting to be ignored. Surely your pack must tell you that too."

Stiles frowned and wiggled his nose thoughtfully. "My pack has only three werewolves and they're all bitten so it's like, all scents are weird to them? But while I was in London and staying with a local pack there, the born wolves did comment that my scent's 'intimidating'."

"I wouldn't call it that," Derek huffed.

"Yeah it's like, kinda cool? You smell like a storm," Erica grinned. "I admit, I was a bit wary at first because of that, but not really intimidated."

"The thing that makes me smell like a storm is my magic," Stiles grinned impishly at her. "And wolves who know the scent are intimidated by it usually."

Peter tilted his head, his eyes widening in surprise. "I mostly find it very appealing and intriguing. You have magic? It's your own, natural scent of magic? That would make you a…"

"Spark," Stiles nodded, leaning back some. "Ye—ep. But since we're rare, most wolves have never met one before so they don't know to recognize the scent for what it is. London has a Spark, who's been my mentor for the past couple years, so the local wolves there know to recognize the scent."

Peter's eyes flashed again, much darker and longer than before. It made Stiles squirm a little, because for the first time, he felt like he had the undivided attention of an apex predator who was ready to pounce. Which was not something that should get him excited.

/break\

"A Spark," Peter growled out before latching onto his husband's neck, sucking a large mark. "He knows about werewolves and he's a Spark."

Chris, pinned against his own office door by the wolf in front of him, froze. "A Spark? You sure?"

"He told us himself," Peter dragged his lips and teeth down Chris' neck and along his collarbone. "The tantalizing scent of lightning that I've been telling you about?"

"The danger and power that excite you and get you horny," Chris said dryly, nodding.

"That's his magic," Peter hissed. "It is danger and power."

Chris huffed, but let his husband's mouth and hands roam freely. "What does that mean, for us?"

"It means," Peter growled around a mouthful of fangs. "That I'm going to rebuild that boy's car until it is like brand new. And then I'm going to fuck him in the car."

An intrigued hum came from Chris, while he carded his fingers through Peter's hair. "I like that. Also sounds expensive."

Peter, on his knees and with his lips pressed against Chris' abs, looked up to glare at him. "I want him, Christopher."

Chris' fingers in his hair tightened when Peter opened his husband's pants. He couldn't put into words how much he wanted that boy. The mere sexual attraction he'd felt when first laying eyes on Stiles was nothing compared to how he felt just two weeks later. Seeing Stiles every day, at the shop and the bar, seeing the boy laugh and banter and bond with the betas, his smiles aimed at Peter and Chris, Peter wanted the boy more with every day.

"How much?" Chris asked, tugging on Peter's hair to bring some distance between them.

Peter glared, because all he wanted was his lips around Chris' cock. He needed to get rid of some of the pent-up desire that'd been bubbling in him since lunch. Sitting back on his haunches, Peter stared up at his mate.

"He should be ours," Peter declared fiercely.

And then he pulled loose from Chris' grip and wrapped his lips around the man's hard cock. Groaning, Chris let his head fall back against the door, lazily bucking into Peter's mouth while the wolf sucked him off, hungry and greedy. Peter's hands were on Chris' hips, claws pressing against skin. It didn't take Chris long to come with a low moan, the former hunter riled up after another day of working with Stiles. Peter knew, he'd listened to his husband enough over the past two weeks.

"You're right," Chris admitted, panting low. "He should be ours."

Peter smirked satisfied, licked the cum off his lips and got off the floor. He so loved when his mate was agreeable. Once he was upright, he was grabbed by the neck and pulled into a kiss by Chris.

"I want him on my machine," Chris whispered lowly.

"Mh, yes, I'd love to see him ride you," Peter purred delighted.

"My bike, Peter," Chris heaved an exasperated sigh. "He seems so upset about not being able to do this road-trip. He wanted to do it because his mom always talked about taking him on a road-trip, before she died."

Peter hummed softly and leaned against Chris' chest, his chin hooked over Chris' shoulder. "The Jeep was hers too. It's why he wants it restored."

At that, Chris gave a grunt and grabbed Peter by the hips. "Let's take our boy on a ride."

That sounded like a wonderful plan. They could take him somewhere nice, make it a day-trip. Ease him into it. Take him somewhere farther away over a weekend. Maybe it wouldn't be a singular road-trip, but they could still enjoy the road and new places with Stiles. Stop him from smelling so sad all the time – every time he brought up the missed trip, or got bad news about Roscoe's overall state. Peter wanted Stiles to smell soft and sweet and happy all the time.

/break\

Stiles was gaping at the two gorgeous, shiny black bikes in front of the bar. He'd heard about Chris' and Peter's bikes, but hadn't seen it yet. Biting his lower lip, he ran a daring hand over the leather seat. That machine looked expensive. His eyes wandered to the other and yup, looked just as expensive. Between those and the two Shelby Cobras that Peter supposedly owned, Stiles wondered how much money the bar and the car shop really made. Sure, the bar was picking up business now that it was tourist season, but not two big, shiny bikes and two super rare cars kinda business. He suspected something more going on, he just didn't know what.

"Now, now, putting his hands on another man's bike like that," Peter's voice purred teasingly.

Stiles yelped and pulled his hand away from the machine. Whirling around, he stared at the hot husbands with flushed cheeks, feeling like he got caught doing something forbidden. Chris just grinned warmly at him.

"Wha—at's up? You told me to be here early. Very early. It is disgustingly early. I should not be up before the sun," Stiles looked at the still grayish sky that was only slowly pinking up.

Chris handed him a helmet. "We're taking you to LA today."

Stiles blinked, repeatedly, staring at the man while holding the helmet he'd been given. "What."

"Cora's covering the bar with Erica today," Chris explained. "And Derek and Boyd got the garage. So Peter and I are going to take you to LA today."

"Why…?" Stiles asked confused, now clutching the helmet. "Is that pity? Because I keep whining about the road-trip? It's okay. I just like to complain. Seriously, ask anyone. I'm a complainer."

Both men stepped up to him from either side and then, suddenly, he had Peter's hand on his chin again and he had Chris' arm around his waist and he felt dizzyingly caged between them in the best way. His breath hitched a little as he stared helplessly at the wolf.

"We want to take you to LA," Peter said, calm and firm. "We'll take you to where you're staying first to get whatever you need for a beach day and then we'll be on the road."

"Why?" Stiles repeated, more insistent this time.

"Because," Chris whispered lowly into his ear, the man's beard scratching against the sensitive skin of Stiles' throat. "We like spending time with you, kitten."

Stiles' breath hitched at the unexpected petname and his dick had some things to say about that too. He flushed brightly and stared wide-eyed from one of them to the other. Were these very married, very handsome, very Alpha Pair men flirting with him? Was he having a stroke?

"Tell us we're misreading your little blushes and your scent," Peter requested, eyes serious. "Tell us you don't want us and we'll back off. I'll take care of your car, you'll continue working at the Silver Moon and we won't come onto you again. But tell us you want us and we'll take you on an unforgettable first date at the beach in LA."

Stiles reached out and rested a hand against Peter's chest. For a split-second did the wolf look worried, like he thought Stiles would push him away. Instead, Stiles balled a fist around the fabric of Peter's shirt and pulled him close enough to plant a bruising kiss on the Alpha's lips.

"I want you so badly, do you have any idea how hot you look when you work on Roscoe?" Stiles panted against Peter when their kiss broke.

"Mh, he is 'the hot mechanic', isn't he?" Chris asked teasingly.

"Oh, shut up, hot silver fox bar owner," Stiles warned and then pulled Chris into a kiss of their own.

They kissed very differently. His kiss with Peter had felt hungry, like Stiles was being devoured whole, the wolf's greed and possessiveness palpable in it. But Chris? Chris kissed slow and thorough, dragging it out and savoring it while still fully owning Stiles' mouth. It made him mewl softly into the kiss.

"Even makes kitten noises," Chris murmured pleased, pecking the corner of Stiles' mouth. "C'mon, kitten. Put on the helmet and get on my bike, we're wasting daylight."

"There is no daylight yet!" Stiles exclaimed, motioning at the sky.

"It's also a two hour drive to LA and we do want to get the most out of it," Peter argued while putting his own helmet on. "I want to take you shopping, dress you up and spoil you."

Spoil him. Stiles flushed and ducked his head, unsure what to do with that. But he did put on the helmet and then reluctantly climbed on behind Chris. His blush got worse when he wrapped his arms around the man's torso and pressed up against his back. Two hours like this? He might not survive it, but it was surely a glorious death to die.

/break\

Chris hated giving his wolf credit for this, but Los Angeles had been a damn good idea for their first date. Especially the part where they got Stiles out of his shirt and into swim trunks. So many new moles to discover and thanks to their boy's very delicately pale skin, Chris and Peter kept getting their hands on the boy. They took turns rubbing sun-screen on Stiles and it flustered Stiles each time how the two of them seemed to compete for the privilege.

"You still with me, kitten?" Chris asked lowly.

He had one arm folded beneath his head, the other loosely wrapped around Stiles' shoulders, his fingers gently dancing over Stiles' upper arm. The boy was sideways pressed against Chris, his head on Chris' shoulder. For a while, he'd been building a sandcastle, then he'd read some and for the past twenty minutes or so he'd been napping, his fingers lazily tracing the tattoos on Chris' torso.

"I wanna map them with my tongue," Stiles mumbled sleepily before he paused. "Did I say that out loud? I did not mean to say that out loud. Please forget I said that."

He tilted his head to look up at Chris with an adorably flustered expression. Smiling, Chris leaned in and kissed the boy. Chaste and soft, but he still relished in the taste. Stiles had had an ice earlier and there was still some sea salt lingering on his lips from his swim with Peter before the nap.

"No need to be embarrassed," Chris chuckled. "I'd love to get that pretty mouth on me."

"Personally," Peter noted lightly as he sat down behind Stiles and promptly bent down to kiss the boy's shoulders. "I can't wait to draw constellations on your skin with my tongue. All those additional moles you have been hiding under your shirt."

Stiles snorted amused and twisted enough to look at Peter, a near wicked grin on his lips. "I do have some on my inner thigh too, you know. And on my ass."

"I wanna taste them all," Peter growled lightly and nipped Stiles' shoulder. "But for now I fear that I want to see you cover them up again. I think we've been at the beach long enough, let's go shopping so we can still grab dinner before heading back home."

"Shopping," Stiles repeated with furrowed brows. "You were serious about that, huh. I… don't really have the money to spare for a new wardrobe, if it hasn't tipped you off that I started working for your husband so I can afford the repairs on my car that you are making."

Chris couldn't help but smirk a little. He looked at his husband over their boy's head, seeing the wolfish grin on Peter's face. Oh, Peter's wolf had already chosen Stiles, he wanted to keep Stiles. So did Chris, now even more than before. Getting to kiss and hold their boy like that, he couldn't imagine not doing it.

"Don't worry about that, darling," Peter leaned over Stiles so he could steal a quick kiss. "I want to dress you up, I'm paying for it."

Stiles looked ready to argue and before he could, Peter sealed their lips together in a long, deep kiss. By the end of it, Stiles seemed dazed and not like he still remembered that he'd wanted to argue with Peter. Chris smiled to himself as he kissed Stiles' temple and drew him closer.

/break\

The two Shelby Cobras had been a surprise, because even if Peter restored them himself, car parts were expensive too. But it was a hobby, so who knew how long he had invested time and money into that. The two shiny, expensive bikes on top of that had made Stiles suspicious.

The day trip to Los Angeles featuring an expensive shopping trip had him mostly flailing, if he was being honest. He'd never been in a clothes store where they brought him champagne and where he had a private changing lounge. His… whatever Peter and Chris were to him now… had lounged on the couch, sipped champagne and commented on the clothes Stiles showed off that Peter had picked beforehand. Part of Stiles had gotten nervously queasy when they'd entered the shop, fearing that Peter was trying to change him. But most of the clothes Peter picked for him had been more or less in Stiles' style, maybe a little less flashy, no funny prints available in that store of course, but the cuts and colors were his, it was just that the material was finer, the quality higher. And the things that he didn't like and wiggled his nose about went on the no pile without complaint from Peter. There were even a couple of the more fancy things Peter had picked that Stiles did like. He had no idea what he'd ever wear the tailored suit to, but it looked good on him.

The next time Stiles had two days off – three days after their 'first date' (Stiles thought that 'driving him all the way to another city to spend the day at the beach and then take him shopping paying too much money for new clothes' kind of burst the parameter of 'date') – Peter and Chris whisked him away for a stay in San Francisco, two nights in a ridiculously fancy hotel with pool. They went sight-seeing, checking every super touristy spot that Stiles had always wanted to see (Stiles had grown up watching Charmed. He had a lot he wanted to see. And he got so bummed out realizing the actual Halliwell house wasn't located in San Francisco that Chris and Peter promised to take him to Los Angeles again just so he could see the house with his own eyes. They were absolutely ridiculous. Stiles was pretty sure he was falling in love, fast).

They went on a couple regular, normal dates too. Lunch at the cozy little coffee nestled at the outskirt of town like it was trying to disappear into the woods, dinner at the fancy restaurant at the lake, going swimming in Silver Lake itself, they even went to the movies one time, to some action movie that appealed to all three of them. But the next time Stiles had two days off, Chris and Peter took him to Mexico, again with the high-end hotel and beach treatment that they paid for.

"We were thinking," Chris whispered lowly, kissing down Stiles' spine. "Vegas next?"

Stiles, lax and spent and happy as he laid sprawled beneath Chris, tensed. "Are you in the mafia?"

There was silence. The weight above him shifted slowly as Chris sat back. Peter beside Stiles turned to blink at him in confused surprised. Rolling over, Stiles sat up with a small wince. Turned out both men were very well-endowed and knew how to use their dicks. And maybe Stiles had begged them to go harder a bit too much so it was his own fault. A gentle hand in his neck drained his pain.

"Run that by me," Chris requested, leaning slowly against the headboard.

"The bikes, the Shelby Cobras, the shopping trips – since Peter can't go to any city with me without wanting to buy me more clothes," Stiles started listing. "The multiple days long trips to expensive hotels, never mind the cost of gas with all the driving we've been doing."

Though for the three days long trips they had taken the Shelby Cobras (one for each trip so far. Stiles half feared Peter was going to bring out a third for the next trip), because they had more luggage to take and needed the trunk space, as opposed by the bikes.

"I know the bar's going well right now and I know the car shop always has some car everyone is working on in it, but I'm not buying that both combined bring that much money," Stiles continued. "And if this is like… pack funds… like, everyone in your pack having one shared bank account that all your assets go in, then don't want you spending that on me. That'd be unfair. But the only other conclusion I can come up with is that you are in like some supernatural mafia or something."

Peter stared at him for another moment before he burst out laughing and drew him in close enough to kiss his temple. "Darling, you are a delight. We're no in a werewolf mafia. The bar and the shop don't make that kind of money, but they also were never meant to so that's fine. I suppose in a way, your first guess is right because we are paying for everything from shared pack-funds-"

Stiles opened his mouth to protest loudly, just to have Chris wrap a gentle hand around his mouth.

"-but the pack-funds amount to about 120 million dollars, so the pack doesn't exactly mind if we want to spend a couple thousands on our pretty boy," Peter continued amused.

Chris removed his hand and kissed Stiles' cheek, but even so Stiles didn't know what to say. His brain was trying to comprehend the number of 120 million. It couldn't. He just stared blankly.

"A hundred and twenty million. US dollars," Stiles whispered. "...Why do you work at all?"

"I'd be bored out of my mind if I didn't," Chris shrugged. "I've been working since before I was eighteen, all the time. Joined the… family business… very young. Peter did try to have me as his 'kept boy' for a while when we first got together, and while it allowed me to spend more time with Allison, it also bored me so much. I wanted something to do."

"So I bought him a bar," Peter shrugged. "It's why the bar is mostly just our pack. Because it's more of a pet project than a serious business, though the locals have taken to it very well too and in the summer, it attracts the tourists. But it's not something that we need for the income."

"And the shop?" Stiles asked, nose scrunched up.

"Started as just something where I could work on my cars and bikes," Peter replied. "Private for my hobby. And then Missus MacNabb next door came asking me because her car was making 'strange noises'. After I first helped her, word of mouth soon had more and more people come and ask for help and I grew tired of favors, so I turned it into a proper business. Though Missus MacNabb has never had to pay for anything. Well, she pays in pies, I suppose."

"Boyd, Erica and Isaac are all getting their own salary that they do keep in their own bank accounts though," Chris added. "They were all bitten wolves, not born, and there was that fear of being financially dependent and thus stuck with a pack. It helped ease their mind to have their own money on the side, even though they do all have pack credit card and access to the pack money."

Stiles nodded slowly, digesting. "And where did those 120 million come from…?"

"117 of them were family bearer bonds," Peter replied. "They kind of accumulated over the years. The Hales have been in Beacon County for centuries, founding family of Beacon Hills actually. But after the fire, when we moved our assets to Silver Lake, we decided to cash in on them. Bearer bonds seemed a bit too… flammable. The rest was the insurance money. The house and the life insurances of… of the rest of our family. I assume you heard about the Hale Fire."

"Yeah, I met Kate Argent," Stiles muttered beneath his breath, then paused. "She's dead. I kinda set her on fire. At… your old house. I should have mentioned this earlier. It's just… damn, it's been ten years since then. I didn't necessarily forget, it's just-"

"What do you mean you set her on fire?" Peter asked bewildered and sat up.

"Uhm, her and her father came to town when we were teenagers, when…" Stiles trailed off for a moment. "I haven't really told you guys a lot about what my life's been like before college, huh."

"You… haven't," Chris wrapped a possessive arm around Stiles' waist and drew him closer. "But before you do, there's something I should probably tell you. My last name, before I married Peter, was Argent. Kate was… Kate was my sister."

"Ah, fuck, I killed your sister," Stiles turned to stare wide-eyed at Chris.

He twisted out of the man's arm, feeling like a life-wire. He'd known Gerard had a son. The prodigal son that had left the family. A lot of the man's rage stemmed from that. Stiles vividly remembered the rants he had to listen to in that basement. He jerked away when someone touched his arm, flashes of Gerard's sneer and fists before his eyes. When he turned his head, he saw Chris with a heartbroken look on his face, carefully pulling his hand back and averting his gaze. Fuck.

Closing his eyes, he took a shaky breath. No, he didn't want Chris to think that Stiles was afraid of him, just because he used to be an Argent. But he also didn't know how to articulate all of this. He never had to talk about this with someone who hadn't been there. Well, 'there' was a stretch, but had been there when the Argents terrorized Beacon Hills.

"I'm not…" Stiles huffed, annoyed with himself. "You just startled me. I didn't flinch away from you, I flinched away from the memory my brain's been stuck at."

"What… What did my family do to you?" Chris asked concerned.

Stiles' face twisted and he really wanted to dismiss it. There was a very stern look on Peter's face and the Alpha was letting him know that Stiles would not be getting away with lies here. Sighing, Stiles lifted his arm and turned his torso to show his ribs to them. Or, more specifically the scars running along them, then turned to show his back.

"I got these from your father," Stiles explained. "When he held me captive in his torture basement, because the smartmouth human who ran with wolves infuriated him and he thought I was a good way to teach my pack a lesson. Scotty… There was a rogue Alpha who tore though Beacon Hills when we were sixteen, it bit Scott, Jackson and Lydia. Scott turned into a werewolf, Jackson first turned into a kanima for a bit and then a proper werewolf, and Lydia had her banshee powers activated. We worked together, with Jackson's best friend Danny and Scott's then girlfriend Kira, and we killed the Alpha, set it on fire. The Alpha spark passed on to Scott, since he was the only wolf in the vicinity. We became a proper pack after that."

Stiles sat against the foot end of the bed and pulled his legs up against his chest. "Gerard didn't like that. He wanted to teach Scott a lesson by hurting his human best friend. Kate kinda died together with the Alpha, because I had already figured out she'd laid the Hale Fire. She, uh, she kinda assumed the rogue Alpha was… well, I guess you, Peter. That's why they came back to town. Figured they could finish off the Hale Pack."

"And you and your pack paid for it," Peter whispered with soft eyes, slowly reaching out before pausing. "May I hug you, darling?"

Stiles looked at him startled and then he remembered how he'd just flinched away the last time one of them had tried to touch him. "Yeah. Yeah, please."

He crawled over to sit between them, letting Peter wrap his arms around him and then reaching for Chris to pull the other man against himself too. With both wrapped around him from either side, Stiles felt himself relax a little. He closed his eyes and took a shaky breath.

"So. Yeah. I killed Kate after she spent months hunting my pack before we were a proper pack and were just a bunch of scared, overwhelmed kids who had no idea what was happening."

"I… I'm sorry you had to go through that, baby," Chris whispered, pressing a kiss to Stiles' temple.

The three of them sat in silence for a few, long moments that felt like eternity. "So you… After the fire, you just… moved here, to start over?"

"The Hales were a well-respected, large pack, our territory spanned wide. This is Hale territory too," Peter nodded. "We abandoned Beacon Hills because of the… pain that laid there. We couldn't imagine tearing down the house and building a new one, but we also couldn't imagine buying a new house and still going on our runs in the preserve, walking past the ruins of our home. We had this vacation home lakeside and we moved there. Derek and Cora still live there, but I moved into this apartment with Christopher to have more… privacy."

Stiles hummed and nuzzled into Peter's neck. He should have probably put this together sooner. But to be honest, he hadn't thought about the Hale family in ten years. And he generally tried not to think about Kate, Gerard and how all of this had started. So when he'd seen the name Hale over the car shop, he hadn't thought anything of it. Yawning softly, he snuggled more up to them both.

"I get that," Stiles whispered softly. "Jackson, he left. After the whole kanima thing, when he turned into a real wolf. His parents packed up and moved him to London. He'd died. He'd been bitten by a rogue Alpha and then used as a murder weapon by a classmate of us who went on a revenge killing spree, and then he died before being reborn as a wolf. It was a lot of fucked up shit."

Peter and Chris remained quiet, simply holding him and gently caressing whatever bare skin they could reach. The quiet was weirdly reassuring and encouraging and Stiles found himself talking.

"In our junior year, we had two transfers, Ethan and Aiden. They were omegas, had left their abusive pack. They joined our pack," Stiles whispered softly. "After Aiden died, Ethan left too. Lydia reached out to Jackson and asked if his pack would take Ethan too. In the end, Ethan and Jackson got together, worked through their individual grief together. They both told me the distance to Beacon Hills helped them with that. I spent a lot of time with them while I was in London."

Stiles' fingers twisted into the sheets as he buried himself more into them both. "It's why dad suggested I go on this road-trip. To get out of Beacon Hills some more. London… London was good for me too. Getting away from that town and everything it had done to me. I keep… I keep saying that I feel left behind by Scotty and Lydia and Kira and Malia, but… but mostly I'm just afraid, I think. The rogue Alpha, Kate, Gerard, the Darach – there was an evil druid who made human sacrifices during our junior year – and the…"

Swallowing hard, Stiles reached out to cling onto both Chris and Peter. "And the possession. I was… Aiden died because I was possessed and the demon that was controlling my body, it killed him. I blamed myself for that for years. It took me years to get… okay… again, after that. The demon used me to kill people, torture people, people I love. And it made me watch."

Chris' arms around his waist tightened at that and Peter pressed his nose more insistently into Stiles' neck, but Stiles appreciated the way neither of them spoke. Stiles closed his eyes and tilted his head back, tears prickling in his eyes. He'd never talked about this with someone outside his pack.

"Part of why I kept complaining about staying at home is because there is so much trauma in that house. When the Nogitsune first possessed me, it did so in my bedroom. So many of the nightmares it gave me took place in that bedroom. This is the house where around every corner I can see the ghost of my mom… not literally, I feel like in Beacon Hills that needs clarification," Stiles huffed and rubbed at his eyes. "Everything is so… heavy with memories and my nightmares became more frequent again after I got back home and I think dad hoped that getting me out again would help me sort things and settle some. But I fear that it won't. I don't…"

Stiles wavered, because this was something he had never admitted to anyone, not even consciously to himself. "I don't think Beacon Hills will ever feel like home again."

"Oh, sweetheart," Peter sighed and pressed a kiss to Stiles' jaw. "It's okay if it doesn't, you know that, right? You are allowed to grow as a person and you're allowed to get your distance. I struggled with that too, at first. Beacon Hills, the preserve, it was the only home I had known for all my life, the land of my parents and grandparents. It felt like a betrayal to them to leave. But it wasn't about them, it was about what me, Laura, Derek and Cora needed and what was right for us. This? This is about what is right for you and that's not a betrayal to your father or your pack, or anyone you have lost in Beacon Hills. It is not your duty to carry their ghosts forever."

Stiles hiccuped out a little sob and hid his face in Peter's neck when the tears started falling.

/break\

Stiles' next days off, Peter and Chris took their boy to Las Vegas. They enjoyed a magic show, front row seats of course, and a burlesque show, went gambling and enjoyed the hotel pool. Repairs on the Jeep slowly moved along and the more Peter repaired, the more nervous he grew. It was a silly feeling, not one Peter was familiar with. He had always been filled with certainty, wielded it as a weapon to fill his enemies with doubt. But this was an uncertainty that Peter didn't know how to deal with. What was going to happen once Roscoe was in running condition again?

To avoid answering that question, Peter decided to fly them to New York to enjoy the Big Apple and the Broadway together another week later, allowing Stiles to meet Laura too. Seeing the bright-eyed look and blinding smile on Stiles' lips as he sang the songs off-key all the way back to their hotel, kissing him on top of the Empire State Building, the photo they asked a fellow tourist to take of the three of them in front of the Statue of Liberty, it all helped ease Peter's mind, at least for the moment.

And then their time in New York was up and they returned to Silver lake. Another part for Roscoe had arrived and Peter fixed more of the Jeep. She was nearly back to her prime. To delay the inevitable, Peter started tackling all the small things. The things that Stiles had explicitly told him to skip, mostly because the boy didn't have the money for it. But surely it would be okay if Stiles didn't have to worry about paying, right? He loved that Jeep, after all. Surely he would want her in top condition, if he could have her that way. Peter told himself he was doing this solely for Stiles, while he knew deep down that he was selfishly trying to buy himself more time with the boy.

They drove all the way up to Salt Lake City together the following week and only when they returned home and Allison and Cora were preparing for the upcoming semester did Peter realize. Summer was nearing its end. Peter looked back and did the math. Stiles had been in Silver Lake for eight weeks.

"It's time to let him go, isn't it?" Peter asked softly as he sat down at the bar.

Chris didn't even look up from the spot on the bar that he was cleaning with a little more insistence than normal. So his husband felt the same way. It put a small, sad smile on Peter's face.

"Fuck that," Erica huffed offended. "Stiles is ours now. No take-backs."

"Wait, why are we sending Stiles away?" Allison looked up from the class-schedule she was trying to put together to stare at her dads. "Did you two fuck things up with him? You know that Erica will actually cut you up for that, right? She practically adopted him. And Boyd's not going to hold her back on this one. He may not admit it, but he's grown fond too."

"I will not admit that," Boyd agreed. "And I will not hold Erica back."

Both Boyd and Erica stared at Chris and Peter with matching looks. Peter huffed at the mated pair. He knew how much Erica and Stiles had bonded at work and with every passing week, Stiles was spending more and more time with the pack. There had been a bunch of nights where Stiles ditched Chris and Peter in favor of movie night at Boyd and Erica's, a spa day with Erica, Cora and Allison, going on a trip with Isaac, even Derek gravitated toward Stiles whenever Stiles was over at the car shop, even though the grump would never admit it. The fact that Stiles had carved a spot for himself with each of the betas too would only make this hurt even more.

"Stiles always only meant to pass through Silver Lake," Chris said, voice soft and contained. "Peter has been dragging his feet on the car repairs for weeks now. But Stiles has spent the entire summer here now and… and it's time to let him return home. This isn't fair on him."

A sullen atmosphere settled in the bar as the betas mulled Chris' words over. Peter glowered at the whiskey Chris put in front of him and then downed it. His husband was right, of course. It wasn't fair on Stiles. The boy already missed out on the road-trip he had meant to take.

"Does anyone know where he is?" Peter asked with a sigh.

"It's Thursday so he should be at the library," Allison replied, checking the time. "Yep, this is when he usually reorganizes the library."

"He does what," Chris turned toward his daughter with a confused frown.

"When he started working here, he peeked at Cora's books and got excited about her essay and helped her with it, the two went to the library together and he's been going regularly since then," Allison smiled a little. "You know our head librarian is ancient. I still think that she must be magic or something. But Missus Dutton is eighty and fragile and Stiles got himself roped into helping her reorganize the library, which she'd wanted to do for years."

"She totally takes advantage of him," Cora snorted. "Keeps calling him her 'strong, young helper'. I've seen them work together a lot over the summer when I work on my stuff there."

Chris and Peter exchanged a perplexed look at that. Somehow, Stiles had never mentioned that before. Then again, Stiles didn't owe them a detailed report on everything he did all day. They'd never questioned when the boy wasn't with them or the pack. Sometimes, people needed some alone time, after all. It figured that Stiles would get invested in the library, he'd proclaimed his love for books and they knew he had gotten his Master's in Library Science. Silver Lake had an old library, a beautiful building that was pretty big.

/break\

Stiles groaned when he collapsed into bed, every muscle in his body sore. Missus Dutton – Dottie, as she insisted and he kept failing to call her because it felt wrong to be so informal with an elderly lady he wasn't related to – had really chased him through the library. She'd been dying to reorganize the library for years now (poor choice of words, considering her age, but she would always say it with a cackle). The other two librarians weren't exactly in shape for it either, Mister Stewart had a bad shoulder and Miss Quesada was a wheelchair user so she couldn't use the wheeled, old wooden ladder to reach the higher shelves.

"Usually you only start making these noises in our bed after we get our hands on you."

Cracking an eye open, Stiles looked at Peter leaning against the door-frame. "Shoo."

Snorting, Peter approached the bed, holding up a plate. "I bring food."

"Okay, no shoo then," Stiles slowly sat up and then rolled his shoulders with a wince. "I'm gonna be so sore tomorrow. I think I did too much today, actually. Sorry, no sexy times."

"Kitten, we're just happy to have you in our bed, we don't need sex every time," Chris pointed out.

Which was when Stiles realized that Chris had already been in the bed when Stiles had collapsed in it. Huh. He might be more tired than anticipated. Leaning against Chris, Stiles accepted the plate from Peter. Chris put his book aside and wrapped an arm around his waist.

"Allison said you're spending a lot of time at the library," Peter noted, carefully neutral.

Well, that was suspicious. Stiles took a huge bite of his sandwich, waiting for more from his wolf. Clearly there was more and knowing Peter, Stiles wasn't going to give the Alpha whatever he was fishing for if he couldn't be clear. Stiles chewed patiently.

"Your Jeep is ready," Peter said in the end and honestly that was not where Stiles had seen this go.

"Oh," Stiles put the sandwich down. "Okay. How… uhm. Feels weird to talk about this in your bed, to be honest. How much do I owe you total?"

Peter gave him a look that Stiles had grown far too accustomed to over the past weeks. It was a mixture of fondness and amusement, usually used when Stiles had said something Peter found adorable. Stiles wasn't exactly sure what about his horrendous bill was adorable, but okay. Maybe rich people had a different kind of humor when it came to money. Probably.

"It's cute that you think I'm making you pay for that, sweetheart."

Ah. That. Stiles was glad he'd put the sandwich down, otherwise he would now be choking on chicken. Furrowing his brows, he geared up to argue with Peter, but when he saw the soft look on Peter's face, his arguments kind of died. There was nothing but pure, raw love in the man's ice-blue eyes and Stiles found it hard to argue with that. It also very suddenly made things slam into place in a way that he hadn't considered so far. All of the expensive gifts and trips.

"You're courting me," Stiles blinked, repeatedly, stunned.

It wasn't even a question. Now that he looked back, there was no doubt in his mind. Peter didn't deny it either, instead the Alpha took his hand and interlaced their fingers. Chris' thumb rubbed gentle circles around Stiles' hipbone and the former hunter kissed his cheek.

"You've been spending a lot of time at the library," Chris repeated the statement that had started this conversation. "Do you… Could you imagine spending even more time there? Your Jeep is ready and you can leave. If that is what you want. But we want you to know that it's not your only option. We want you here. With us. And not just Peter and me either. The whole pack would like for you to stay here. Can you imagine making Silver Lake's library your library?"

"If you insist on working," Peter tagged on. "I am more than happy to provide for you. I could buy you all the books you could want and you could collect your own private library. Options. You have them. We want to offer them to you. We want you to… consider those options, before you make a choice either way. Please consider it, darling. We… have come to love you a great deal."

Stiles' heart jumped into his throat. They hadn't said the l-word yet. Biting his lip hard, he turned to look around the room to distract himself. His bag was in the corner, his house shoes next to Chris', the clothes he'd worn yesterday were in the corner, his fresh clothes had long since claimed their spot in the closet. Two weeks into their relationship, he had made the mistake of letting Chris and Peter see the sad excuse for a motel room that he had been renting and they had practically packed up his things, thrown him over their shoulder and claimed that wasn't a place to live. Well, they hadn't literally done that, they had just expressed their concern and displeasure and told him he could stay with them. Lured him in with the promises of sex and a ridiculously short way to work (since the apartment was right upstairs from the bar).

He'd agreed, at first mostly out of horny and practical reasons. But over the following weeks, he had… made this place his home. Everything he had brought for his road-trip and everything they had bought for him during their relationship – clothes, souvenirs, trinkets, books – had found their place here, just like Stiles. His books were in the shelf in the living room, alongside theirs, there was food in the fridge that was just for him because Chris and Peter didn't eat it, herbs on the window-sill for his potions, there were towels in the bathroom that he'd come to consider his.

"I live here," Stiles pointed out stunned at that realization.

"...Darling, are you having a stroke?" Peter frowned at him. "You have been living here for weeks."

"No. No, I came to crash here," Stiles corrected, then waved around. "Crashing is like living out of your suitcase with the intention of leaving again, not getting comfortable and not settling in. I did that for like a week. I'm not doing that anymore. There is more stuff in your apartment than I came to Silver Lake with, hell, there might be more stuff of mine here now than there is at dad's. There's a framed picture of me and my mom on the nightstand, Peter. That's not 'crashing' behavior. I live here. Somehow, your apartment became home. When I finished at the library today, I was thinking to myself that I couldn't wait to get home, to you two."

He blinked at the warm feeling that this gave him. It was home. This was home, with Peter and Chris. He blinked even more as he tried not to cry stupid tears. He hadn't had a place that truly felt like home in years. The dorm-room never really had, the room-mate and the time-limit due to college had always just made it feel like the place he was temporarily living. Not home. Returning to Beacon Hills hadn't felt like coming home either. But this did.

"Can I?" Stiles asked, hating how small and hopeful his voice sounded. "Can I stay with you?"

The way both his boyfriends' faces lit up at that question was breathtaking and the two nearly butted heads as they both tried to dive in and kiss him at the same time. Stiles hiccuped out a laugh before pulling them into a hug and pecking each on the lips. He was finally home.

"Missus Dutton might kiss you both on the mouth for that," Stiles warned them with a grin. "The woman's been trying not so subtly to make me her replacement for weeks. But I didn't… I don't know. I just… I didn't consider that staying could be an option."

Chris and Peter were trailing kisses down his neck from either side, hands roaming his body. His grin grew pleased and he pushed them off a little. They made disgruntled noises until they saw him pull off his shirt. He was living with his boyfriends.

"I should probably go and write a job application so I can hand it in tomorrow…"

"Don't tease, darling," Peter growled in warning, tackling Stiles with a kiss.

Stiles' laughter bubbled over, his fingers in Peter's hair. He felt downright euphoric with all of this. The realization that Peter had been courting him, saw him as potential mate-material and not just the boyfriend the wolf and his husband shared for a summer. The realization that this was his home now, that these men wanted him, that the pack wanted him. And, maybe most importantly, that he didn't feel like he was betraying Scott or the others. It was the same feeling as leaving for college; this was the right next step in his life and he knew his pack and family wouldn't hold that against him. This was where he belonged. Right here.

"I want you both," Stiles said seriously, pulling them closer by the necks. "Okay?"

Peter growled lowly, filled with hunger. They'd done this before, a few times. The first time, they had nearly driven Stiles mad before finally fucking him, Peter thoroughly opening him up with his tongue and fingers while Chris showered him with endearments and praise. The more often he managed to take them both at the same time, the less torturous the prep-time.

"A worthy way of celebrating," Peter agreed delighted and reached for the lube.

"Besides, I will already be sore and out of commission tomorrow anyway, might as well make it count," Stiles offered a shit-eating grin. "I'll have you two spoil me rotten tomorrow."

He flushed a little at the pleased looks Chris and Peter threw him at that. He'd fought them tooth and nail on it in the beginning, because he wasn't used to it. To people taking care of him like that. Sure, him and his pack took care of each other, him and his dad took care of each other, but it was always rough and in the end, he always took charge of the caretaking. But to just lean back and let someone take care of him, be soft and gentle just for the sake of being there for him, without having to because Stiles was injured or otherwise incapacitated? Not something he was used to.

"Okay, kitten, c'mere," Chris murmured, sitting down against the headrest and pulling Stiles into his lap so Stiles was comfortably straddling him. "Be good and relax for me, let Peter open you up."

Sighing contently, Stiles buried his face in Chris' neck and melted against the man. He felt lubed-up fingers press against his hole, gently circling. Teasing. Those two knew exactly how to work his body, knew what felt the best, what made him moan and come part under their hands. They knew how to make him feel so good. And that wasn't just about sex. He felt so cherished with them.

"Peter," Stiles whined and bucked his hips. "Chris, he's being a tease."

Tilting his head, he pouted up at Chris, trying to make Chris make Peter give him more. Chris just snorted amused and kissed his temple. They never rushed prep, especially not when they wanted to double him. Didn't stop Stiles from begging though. Having the wolf's cunning fingers scissor him open like that was just too much and not enough at the same time. Peter was three fingers deep in him, crooking them and spreading them in all the right ways, while Stiles' cock was straining against his belly, weeping pre-cum. He absentmindedly wondered when he had lost his pants, but then things had been a bit hazy in comfort and warm touch after he climbed into Chris' lap so he guessed that Peter must have taken them off. It was just too easy to turn off his brain when he was with them, to allow himself to just feel and be in the moment. Because he trusted them to have him.

"So good for us, love," Peter whispered, trailing kisses along Stiles' neck. "So perfect for us, look at you, you are beautiful like that, spread out on Chris' lap, opening up for me. Taking my fingers so well, think you can take something more, sweetheart?"

Stiles whined against Chris' collarbone, rolling his hips. "Yes, yes, yes, please, Alpha!"

For a moment, there was stillness and Stiles whined again, wondering why his wolf had stopped moving. But then he heard the growl and it wasn't playful, it was deep and primal and when he turned a little, he saw red eyes before his lips were captured in a heated kiss.

"Say that again," Peter demanded, working his fingers in and out of Stiles.

And oh. Stiles' cheeks flushed and he tried to hide his face in Chris' chest. The former hunter huffed and wrapped his fingers around his own cock and Stiles' cock, stroking them both.

"No hiding, kitten," Chris whispered. "Peter's wanted to hear you call him that for weeks."

"Alpha," Stiles gasped out, torn between bucking forward into Chris' hold and back onto Peter's fingers. "Please, Alpha, I need your dick, want it so badly."

"My beautiful boy," Peter whispered, sounding so incredibly pleased.

He pulled his fingers out, but instead of thrusting into him, Peter grabbed his waist and lifted him up. Stiles made a confused noise that turned slightly displeased when Chris also let go of his cock. Well, that was the opposite of what he wanted. At least until the Alpha slowly lowered Stiles onto Chris' cock and oh yeah, that was good, that was exactly what he wanted. Or half of what he wanted, anyway. His toes curled as more and more of Chris' thick cock filled him.

"Always so pretty on my cock like that, mh, kitten?" Chris smiled, kissing Stiles' jaw.

"What can I say, it's a gorgeous cock," Stiles gasped out, grinning a little.

Once he was fully seated, his boyfriends started kissing whatever skin they could reach. Stiles tried to return the favor to Chris, lapping at the man's tattoos with his tongue. At this point, Stiles could probably draw them all blind with the tip of his tongue. Only when Stiles started rolling his hips did Peter reach down to gentle a finger in alongside Chris. Stiles breathed slow and deep, knowing this was going to be overwhelming at first but would be so good in the end.

"You feel amazing around us like that, darling," Peter groaned when he pushed his head in alongside Chris. "I love sharing you with Christopher, like you were made to be fucked by us both, made to be ours. So tight and hot and gorgeous, sweetheart."

Stiles leaned his head back against Peter's shoulder, going pretty much lax between the two. He felt so full, in the best possible way, and completely overwhelmed by the sensation of two cocks going in and out of him, spreading him so wide and good. His nails scratched over Chris' shoulders, making the man groan. Stiles' thighs were absolutely too tired to ride them, but the super-strong werewolf behind Stiles was more than happy to help out with that. Peter's fingers curled around Stiles' hips in a bruising manner as he lifted the Spark up and brought him back down, counter to the man's own thrusts. He'd pull out and lift Stiles, just to drive himself back in while bringing Stiles down and the feeling of both their cocks moving inside him soon had Stiles babbling in despair, overcome with bliss and the need to come.

"Chris," Stiles sobbed out, clinging helplessly onto Chris' neck. "Please, I need to come, your cocks feel so good, our Alpha's doing things to me, I'll burst if I don't-"

Peter hissed surprised and then gave a very pleased, low growl. "That's right, sweetheart. Your Alpha. And you are being so good for your Alpha, yes, you are. Christopher, if you'd please."

Chris shook his head fondly, clearly amused by how much this turned his husband on, but he finally put his hands on Stiles' cock again and started roughly stroking it while Peter fucked Stiles onto both their cocks. Stiles twitched and came all over Chris, exhausted and close to his limit. He collapsed against the former hunter, gasping for breath and coming down from his orgasm with the feeling of both his boyfriends filling him up, coming nearly at the same time once Stiles' orgasm made him tighten up around them both. A gluttonous groan escaped Stiles, absolutely loving the sensation of them both coming inside him like that. It was a sticky mess, but it felt so good.

"You were wonderful, sweetheart," Peter praised him while kissing down his spine.

Other sweet words followed, from both Peter and Chris, kind of melting together into pleasant white noise while Stiles drifted in and out of sleep for a while. When he came to it again, he felt less sticky and was sandwiched between Chris and Peter.

"You with us again, kitten?" Chris asked, brushing Stiles' hair back. "We really made you purr this time, mh? You were putty in our hands."

Stiles wondered if they realized what a huge sign of trust that was from him. He was always on edge, always ready to fight, defend. But with them, he felt like he could just be. Smiling, he turned his face to press a kiss to the wolf tattoo on Chris' right peck

"I'm gonna sleep so—o long tomorrow," Stiles sighed contently. "And I demand breakfast in bed."

"Sweetheart, you could ask me for anything right now and I'd say yes," Peter declared, trailing kisses along Stiles' neck (which was most likely covered in hickeys at this point already).

"I wanna go on a road-trip with you both," Stiles said after a moment of nervous doubt. "A proper one. Just the three of us and the road, not just for three days at a time. If I don't need the job at the bar to pay for Roscoe anymore, if I don't have to worry about money and need to start working at the library as soon as possible, I wanna take more time. Time with you both. Summer's over, so the bar will slow down again, I'm sure Cora and Erica can handle it alone for a while."

"Where do you want to go, baby?" Chris asked, eyes crinkling with his smile.

"Everywhere," Stiles replied with a broad grin. "I mean, I figured we could start out in Beacon Hills, so I can introduce you guys to my dad and the McCall Pack, and then we just… head out. Wherever we wanna go. There are so many places I have always wanted to see, places I never thought I would get to go. Oh! Austin. I got family outside of Austin, we could visit them and stay at their ranch. You guys may know how to ride a bike, but do you know how to ride a horse?"

"No," Peter frowned thoughtfully. "But I'd be willing to learn."

Stiles sat up a little, grinning eagerly at them both. "So, is that a yes?"

"Weeks or months with just the two of you?" Chris grinned right back. "Yeah, I'd like that."

Stiles wrapped his arms around Chris' neck and pulled him into a kiss before he turned toward Peter and did the same to the wolf. He was filled with giddiness for everything that still laid ahead for the three of them, but also just for him, personally. He couldn't wait to where the road would take them.

~*~ The End ~*~