Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Stiles jumped on his parents' bed. "Mama, Daddy, Santa been?"

He heard a groan from his dad, and realized maybe he had landed on his dad when he jumped on. He scooted so he could be between them, and hugged his dad. "Sorry," he whispered.

"Nah, kiddo, Santa excitement is all good. But what do you think? Think Santa actually filled Mama's stocking or did she get coal?"

Stiles gasped, "Mama is the bestest, she lets you lick both beaters with the brownie goo."

"That is pretty great, I don't even get a taste."

"I'll share more," Stiles offered. Because maybe he wasn't sharing enough and he'd actually have coal in his stocking. He felt his mom press close, kiss his head. Then there were tickles. He giggled, and squirmed. "Gotta go, but then we all go downstairs?"

"Of course," she said.

Stiles ran to the bathroom, and quickly peed, ran out, had to run back in to wash his hands. He stormed out and held up his arms, his dad easily swooping him up and they went downstairs. Stiles stared at the full stockings and all the new presents under the tree. "Wow," he said and pointed; there was maybe an accidental kick to his dad. He was taken to the stockings. "Mama," he told his dad, and that was pulled down, given to her.

Then his and then Daddy's.

There was chocolate, and candy canes and a stupid new toothbrush which was mean of Santa, but also responsible because of the chocolate; there were stickers and three whole new hot wheels.

He looked over and his parents got boring parent stuff in their stockings, but he supposed if Santa gave people what they wanted that made sense.

"Go ahead, son," his dad urged and he dove into the gifts. Santa had brought him so many puzzles, it was awesome. And lego, oh my gosh actual lego, not duplo. Big boy lego. He hugged the box. Then he turned to his dad and decided to bold. "Santa thinks I'm big and responble enough for grown up lego."

"Guess Santa knows better than your silly old dad," was the reply. "Lots still under there. Maybe something for your Mama?" His dad was smiling, and Stiles remembered the trick they played.

He dove under the tree and got the sparkly bag. "Mama we tricked you! We didn't go to get gas, we got you gifts!"

"Wow, I had no idea when you were out for three hours last week, you didn't just get gas."

Stiles giggled, "we were sneaky. Like bank robbers."

"No bank robbing in my town kid. Love you, but I'd bust you." His dad was grinning though, so Stiles was pretty sure his dad would let him get away with it.

He waited as his mom opened the super sparkly bracelet and earrings they picked out for her. She cried because she always cried, but Stiles knew they were good tears. He dove back under the tree when his dad helped her put the stuff on. He reached for a gift and it was super squishy. It had his name on it. He could recognize his name and like ten other words now. Mama said he was a genius.

Mama was never wrong, so he guessed he was whatever that meant.

"I open?"

That got him a nod, "It's from us, sweetie," his mom said.

He tore off the wrapping quickly, because his parents always got the best gifts ever. They were even better than Santa. He stared, mouth open at the most perfect stuffie ever. It was a black wolf with red eyes, the fur the softest thing he had ever felt. Stiles buried his face in it and it was the most perfect hugging size ever. Stiles squealed a bit against the fur. It was perfect. He was perfect.

"I know you have been into wolves since we read Little Red Riding Hood," Mama said. "So we thought a friend would be nice."

Stiles stumbled over to them and hugged them both just as hard. "Thank you," he was almost crying. Happy crying like Mama.

There were kisses to his head, and a pat on his bottom to send him back. More gifts opened and he realized that all his family, grandparents, aunts and uncles, all had sent him wolf stuffies for Christmas. By the time he was done there were eight of them. He clutched the one his parents had given him, "bury me in a pile, Daddy. Wolves pile," he said seriously. "We read a book from the 'bary."

"Oh, I see. Lie down, kiddo." His dad came over and wolves were put on top of him. "Can barely see you."

"Did you like your picture?" He had worked really hard on it. It was of him all grown up and being an officer with his dad.

"Best gift ever," he was told.

"Awesome!" Stiles smiled. "Love you, Daddy."

"Love you too, I'm going to help your Mama make breakfast, you play with your new toys."

Stiles nodded and rolled around on the ground with all the new wolves he had. He clutched the one his parents had got him, because it was the best and he was never going to let go. "Derek," he said out of nowhere. "Your name is Derek."

Stiles for a moment couldn't understand what was happening. Not that he had understood much this last year. His mom was gone. She was so strong, stronger than his dad, and she left them. And his dad was working, or drinking all the time. So he was sort of gone too. An aunt had come to help, but she was mean. His dad didn't see it, but she was absolutely a wicked person like from the stories his mom had always read to him, and he read to her when she was in the hospital.

The only people who seemed to care about him were Scott and Melissa. He was spending more and more time over at their house, but Melissa had said he couldn't sleep over more than two nights in a row. So he was back home, and he was standing in his backyard, not understanding what was happening.

The smoke was noxious and hurt his throat.

He didn't understand.

But he didn't have to understand. As he saw Peter, his grey wolf stuffie hovering over the fire pit he ran forward. He managed to grab Peter just as he was hitting the fire, and it hurt his hands so much, but he stop, dropped and rolled, making sure Peter was safe. Derek was sitting to the side and he grabbed him too.

None of the other wolves were left.

He began to scream, no words just a horrific noise, one that brought neighbours running. He couldn't stop, he could smell Mrs Jacobi's lavender perfume and she was nice and rubbing his back, but he just couldn't stop the sound of grief and horror that erupted from him. He was so loud it was making the ground under him shake. If the wasn't lost in the moment he would have thought that was cool.

He heard sirens and he should stop screaming, but he couldn't.

Stiles was aware there were firemen dealing with the fire, and he knew a couple of them, but it didn't register. Nothing did until he felt his father's uniform against his cheek as he was wrapped in a hug. The scream cut off, and he passed out.

When he woke up it was dark, and it smelled like dad. Also he couldn't move. He wondered if maybe he had screamed himself to paralysis. But then he realized it was because he was being held so tightly. "Dad?" he whispered because he couldn't handle anything above that. His throat hurt so much. Stiles wondered if he had done permanent damage.

"I'm sorry," was whispered back. "I know it's a lot to ask, but could you trust me?"

Stiles was scared and it took a moment but he slowly nodded. Within an hour they were in his mom's jeep, two duffel bags packed, Derek and Peter wolf being clung to. He slept on and off, barely registered that they seemed to be headed west.

He could eventually smell the ocean. The jeep parked. "Come on," his dad said.

They got out of the car, and there were signs saying the beach was closed, trespassers would be fined or prosecuted. He watched as his dad completely ignored those signs and walked onto the beach. It was approaching dawn. Sky was not so dark.

Stiles sat in the sand next to his dad and breathed in the ocean, the waves so dark. "Mom liked mountains."

"I know," his dad said. "How many camping trips to Mt. Shasta?"

"Can't even count," Stiles was clutching Derek, but found himself handing Peter to his dad to hold. "Why are we here?"

"Not a damn clue?" His dad laughed and started to cry. Stiles realized he hadn't seen his dad cry at all. They stared at the waves and Stiles felt himself start to cry as well. They sat on the sand that was honestly more rock than sand, and cried. Stiles didn't scream though, probably couldn't have if he wanted to.

Eventually their tears slowed and stopped. "So," his dad said after a moment. "I told your aunt to leave. I also fined her for destruction of property. And have a restraining order against her."

"Why did she burn them?" Stiles was finally properly understanding that she had destroyed most of his wolf stuffies. She had been one of the people to buy them.

"In her grief, she decided they carried your mama's sickness. That they needed to be destroyed before they made you sick too."

"Is that why she made me clean everything so much?" Stiles could still feel the bleach burning his skin. "Why she got rid of all of Mama's clothes?"

"Not all," his dad said. "When I realized what she was doing, managed to stop her before everything was lost. Not much left, but some." There was a sigh, and he saw his dad wipe his face. "Grief is hard."

"She was my mom!" Stiles tried to shout but barely could due to the damage he had done. He wanted to start screaming again but was very scared if he did, he'd lose his voice forever. Instead he began to shake with everything he was feeling. Out of nowhere down the beach just far enough away not to hurt them, a lightning streak hit the sand and rock, exploding it up. He froze. "Dad?"

"Fuck," his dad swore. "Fuck, I hoped not yet."

"Dad?" Stiles was scared. "If it is about to storm, we should get off the beach."

"It isn't," his dad was looking at him, and in the brightening sky, his dad looked so old. "God, Stiles, I am so sorry. I need you to understand how sorry I am. I didn't…it hurt to look at you, because every movement of your face was her face. And made me realize I'd never see her get that stubborn look ever again. I thought having your aunt here would help, but god I had forgotten just how insane she was."

"She was always nice before," Stiles said.

"Yeah, but —" there was a frustrated noise. "My family, we're —they're—it skipped me, and I honestly hoped it would skip you too."

"What would?"

"Magic." Stiles felt his face clutched. "There is magic in our family, and it manifests…poorly sometimes. Your aunt, her grief at losing her beloved sister in law, began to pull at some bad mojo, become quite literally a wicked stepmother. You know how you feel happy when you eat your grandmother's cookies? She puts her emotions into her cooking. She never had to ground me, eating disappointed and ashamed perogis leaves an impression."

"Magic isn't real," Stiles whispered. "How will saying that make it better?"

"It won't," his dad answered, "kiddo, nothing is going to make this fucking better. But it seems magic is manifesting in you is creation. When you were screaming, the earth around you exploded in flowers. The lightning over there. You make things, just like how you used to out of lego, the stories you made for your wolves. You create Stiles, amazing, chaotic things, and it scares me so much, but also I can't wait to see what you create."

Stiles found himself pulled up and they walked to where the lightning had struck. There was glass, the lightning so hot and strong it turned the sand into glass. "I did that?"

"You did," his dad said.

Stiles reached out and touched it. It was hot, but didn't burn. He picked it up, and it looked almost like a heart with a crack in it. "We're broken."

"We are," his dad agreed. "But we could try together, to fix it."

"You left me," Stiles looked at his dad. "I lost you both. And it was worse because she didn't want to leave, but you did."

"I know," was all that was said. "I'm sorry. I'm here now."

"I can't, you can't -" Stiles began to cry again.

"Wait right here." He watched his dad run back to the jeep. When he was back he was holding something. It was carefully put around his shoulders and he realized it was his mom's favourite red hoodie. It was zipped up, the hood put over his head. It didn't smell like her anymore but it still felt like his mom's hugs. Stiles nodded, and then his dad was hugging him. "I won't leave you, not again."

They stopped at a diner in the first town they hit on their way home, ate, not talking.

When they got home, Stiles helped his dad empty every bottle of alcohol down the drain. He listened as his dad called in and took the grief leave he had been offered. Stiles went upstairs and crawled into his parent's bed. His dad joined him, they were both curled into balls, exhausted from the trip from hurting. They slept.

He woke up alone and froze, because maybe his dad had been lying to him. Stiles walked down the hall and saw lights on downstairs. He went, scared the house would be empty, scared his dad would be passed out with a bottle.

Instead he saw his dad sitting at the table, with Peter wolf and a pair of scissors. "Okay, you are looking better," he heard his dad say. "Stiles saved you, you know. Hero, he got burned a bit, doing it, so you better appreciate the rescue. If we brush your fur here, it mostly covers the singed part. Keeps you as handsome as you were before. Know he loves Derek the most, but I'm happy if only two of you survived, the second was you, Peter."

The stuffie was sat on the table, "I am sorry though that I wasn't able to save Talia, or Laura." Stiles sat there stunned as his dad listed the names of all the burned stuffies. He hadn't know his dad knew all their names. His mom had always paid attention when Stiles would tell her the stories of his pack of stuffies, the elaborate world he had built for them. He knew his dad was proud of his imagination, but never thought he had actually listened.

Stiles went over and hugged his dad, sat next to him, holding Derek. He put Derek next to Peter. "I know it's stupid, I'm too old for all this."

"It isn't stupid," his dad said confident and sure. "In our family, the magic ones, they all had familiars, right now stuffed animals are perfect until you are ready for more."

"Am I really magic?"

"Seems so, I'll have your grandmother send the family journals, to help you. You can't tell anyone. Not even Scott. I mean it." There was a look. "I know he is your guy, and you trust him more than anything, he's a good kid, but Scott doesn't exactly have the imagination to understand or accept this."

Stiles was going to argue, but Scott was the type of person who didn't like musicals because he couldn't understand why people starting singing. He nodded. "Okay," he agreed. "Are we going to be okay, Dad?"

"Not today," was the reply.

It was grim, but also comforting.

He leaned against his dad's shoulder. "Want to order pizza and watch a movie together?"

"Sounds good," his dad agreed.

They weren't okay for a lot of days, but they got there.

"Dad, will you stop?" Stiles tried to swat his father's hands away, "stop fussing!"

"My kid is trying out for a sports team today, I'm allowed to fuss," was the reply.

"Oh my god, I'm only doing it because Scott really wants to try out, but won't do it by himself. Do you think I'm actually interested in lacrosse? It's lacrosse!" He did not want this, but also perhaps Lydia seemed to like popular jocks. Maybe he could pull one of those off. "I will call a deputy to arrest you," he warned his dad.

His dad was just beaming, "I am proud of you. I'll be at every game."

"Dude, you think even if I make it on the team, they'll ever let me off the bench?" Stiles snorted and his dad winced just a bit because yeah the guy knew his kid.

"You take your Adderall today?"

"Yes, did you take those vitamins I put out for you?"

"Yes," was said back, "okay. Go off and survive another day of teenagerness."

"I'll do my best."

And apparently his best did mean making the team. The coach said they needed warm bodies on the bench to cheer people who could actually play. Which honestly was fair. Scott had a bit of hope of maybe making the field if they were ever up like ten points. The coach had sort of just looked at him and went, yeah, fine, you might be useful for trashing talking the other team and psyching them out. The direct quote was "you are the most annoying teen I have ever met and I've been in this a while now. Let's turn that into psychological warfare on the opposing team."

Better read at humanity than he expected from the coach.

His dad was thrilled, his kid was a bench warmer. When he said what the coach had said, his dad had kind of winced and then nodded. "Hey, I mean you would do really well at that. Look how half my deputy refuse to be alone in a room with you, the other half are being you join the force just because of the amount of confessions you'd get from perps."

"Oh. Yeah, uhhh, yup still going to follow in your footsteps. Absolutely." Stiles nodded. He kinda had been wavering on being a cop. His dad was a good man, and a good sheriff, but cops were kinda…not great overall.

His dad was looking at him. "Have you every thought about archives?"

"What?" Stiles was confused.

There was a shrug, "sort of a librarian but, you know, old shit."

"Books are in fact old shit."

"Yeah yeah, but umm, I read an article, the FBI, the State Government, have cold cases, dead cases, weird mysteries, and when people join up they never want to sort files, they want to shoot bad guys. There is currently an incentive program to get people to be well, librarians for the F.B.I."

"Oh, that's actually kind of cool?" The only part of school he liked was reading and research. Sitting in class killed him, though the adhd meds helped. "Could I read the article?"

"Sure," his dad agreed. "So thinking we can have dinner out tonight, celebrate making the team. The diner for curly fries?"

"So long as you have salad."

"My son makes a team, a man earns a curly fry. Didn't you know, I'm going to be reliving my youth through you now?"

"You can have fries or bacon and cheese on your burger."

"Bacon cheeseburger, and a salad it is."

It was a good dinner, and Stiles started to regret his life choices because even though he was there to cause psychic damage to opposing teams, he was still expected to run drills. Which that was all sorts of hell. Especially because he was not getting especially better. Scott was though, and he was actually moved up to second string. He was proud of his pal, he was but that meant Scott's circle of friends grew. And they sort of tolerated Stiles.

Danny was cool.

Jackson was a dick.

Lydia was perfection.

Scott was still at his place all the time, and he was at Scott's, but when he texted Scott about Saturday night sleepover, there was a you mean after the party sure! reply.

Stiles had not been invited to the party. He just said actually he was feeling a bit of a medication headache and they could do it another night, to have fun at the party.

He was informed that the new girl was going to be there, and Scott was going to maybe even say hi to her.

Stiles wished his pal good luck.

He was asleep when his phone rang. "Stiles?"

"Yeah?" he groaned, "Scottie?"

"Okay, so I know you have a headache and I know it is late but uhhh…help?"

Stiles understood in that moment how his dad could be asleep one minute and awake, giving orders the next. He grabbed his wallet and keys. "Sit rep!"

"Wow you sounded like your dad," Scott laughed but it was tense. "So the party got the bright idea to go to the preserve? And we are so lost."

"Who is we? How many, do I get my dad?"

"And get us all in shit for curfew?" Scott sounded desperate, "Mom is already planning to murder me for my grades."

"Whereabouts did you go in?" Stiles looked at the sky, clear night, full moon. "I know the woods a bit from my let's talk about our feelings man style walks through there, but not if you are on the east side of them."

"No, we all went in at the general path, but we sort of went off the path?"

"Fuck, Scott that's how you get eaten by a bear or a coyote." Stiles groaned.

"I know, I know," Scott said. "Stiles?"

"I'm on my way."

Stiles grabbed his back pack and loaded it with a couple bottles of water, granola bars, the map he and his dad had made of the woods when bored. It wasn't perfect, but it could help. Two spare flashlights and it was stupid, but he stuffed the two wolves into the pack, because he needed emotional support when doing something this insane.

He drove sensibly because didn't need a deputy doing a pull over and there were no cars at the path into the preserve. Damn they had gotten left behind by the rest of the party —ice cold didn't cover it. Pack over his shoulders, the search party flashlight on, he headed in.

Stiles knew enough to mark every few trees with glow in the dark chalk, and the nice thing was that animals hated noise so he called out regularly for Scott. It was cold, dark, and he was absolutely certain only his virginity was keeping him alive. Unless it was the virgin sacrifice sort of story he was stumbling into.

He paused for a moment, and closed his eyes tried to breathe in the woods hoping he would smell some shitty axe body spray. He didn't smell that, but he smelled something. He opened his eyes and found himself going off the path, and there was tree, or had been a tree or something. He rested his palm against it, the jagged wood drawing a drop or two of blood.

"I just wish there was someone to help," he said. "I need him." He had no idea what him he meant, likely his dad. Or just a prayer Scott wouldn't die out there. But whatever, he gave the tree a pat and kept going.

More shouts of Scott's name, and he thought he heard his name being called. He ran, towards the noise, so focused he missed the tree limb in the dark and tripped.

But instead of face planting, arms caught him. "Thanks," he said and stared.

Okay then if this guy was the cultist who was going to sacrifice him, then well worse things to see before you died.

"He's that way," was what was said. "Come on."

They walked in silence. "You know these woods pretty well?"

"Well enough, got left behind once. Had to get rescued." There was a glance to him. "You are shorter than I expected."

"Huh?" Stiles was thrown by that, but then he heard shouting. "Scott!" He called and soon, Scott, that new girl, Lydia, and ugh, Jackson were there.

And the guy was gone.

Not weird at all. "Let's go," Stiles said. "But I have bandaids, make up wipes, water, and granola. Anyone need anything?"

"Why would we need make up wipes?" Jackson rolled his eyes.

"It would feel good if you are feeling gross and for the girls if they had to pee in the woods it would help them feel better?" Stiles said. "I have a bag for garbage also."

"Dude," Scott hissed, "you don't say stuff like that."

"Girls, pee, Scott," Stiles said. "You can say it."

"Hi, I'm Allison, thanks for the rescue."

"Sure, let's go," Stiles walked them out of the woods, and they were driven back into town. Jackson and Lydia dropped off at his car, and Allison went with them. Stiles ignored the kiss that Scott was given. "Your place?"

"Can I crash with you?"

"Yeah," Stiles smiled a bit. He was smiling less at point thirty three of why Allison was the best, but on the plus side it helped him drift off.

It wasn't until the next day after Scott left, that Stiles realized his wolves weren't around. He scoured his room and cursed because somehow they must have fallen out of his bag in the woods. Stiles cursed more as he drove in a panic to the preserve, but a couple hours of searching he didn't find anything.

He went home and his dad was cooking in the kitchen. "I lost them," Stiles said. He didn't cry, he was too hollow for that. His dad didn't ask any questions, just hugged him.

Stiles wished he could scream as he once had, as he the last gasp of childhood died.

Chapter Text

"Stilinski, you're up!" Coach Finnstock shouted, and Stiles and the whole team looked at him in confusion.

"Uhh," Stiles stood. "You want me on the field?"

"Oh god no, you would be crushed in a second, and I don't have a first aid kit here right now, took it home for doctor roleplay with my date."

Stiles heard at least two people gag at that information, and he had to agree.

"No, we aren't putting you on the field, like ever. But we have to hone your skills just as much as the people with actual talents."

"Gee, thanks," Stiles went over to the coach, "I'm doing what exactly?"

"Do that thing you do to the people you hate at school, where you mouth off and destroy them, and then they try to punch you. You know that superpower you have of being a complete jackass. Is it because your brain is weird? Like that movie with the guy and casino and like instead of counting cards, only you insult people. Like special grade sarcasm."

"Wow," Stiles breathed out, "that is —" he was almost impressed with the level of bad in those sentences. "But just so we are clear you want me to stand here, and shout insults at my teammates."

"Coach, how is that a good idea?" Scott asked from his place in row to shoot.

Finnstock laughed, "see, here is the thing. Sports is about getting in people's heads. The other teams are going to trash talk your mama, your girlfriend and your dick. And I need you to not respond to that. You need to rise above. Also we're going to have Stilinski here be hurling insults at the other team, and he needs practice. Let's go, Stilinski, fire off as they are getting ready to shoot." Coach sort of waved a hand, and Stilinksi stepped up.

"Okay, no killing me later," he begged, "this was his idea, and I don't mean any of it."

Of course Jackson was up first. Stiles looked at him, "shame your parents' money couldn't buy you skills."

Jackson ignored the ball and stepped towards him. Immediately Finnstock was there. "Nope, see that's what I am talking about, you flinched and missed your shot, now the other team gets the ball and we lose. Run a lap and get back in line. Stilinski gets to insult you again and again until you take it. This is fun, aren't we having fun?"

Sure fun.

A few more insults and actually Stiles was kinda great at this. No one had made a shot yet.

It would be funny if this was his villain origin story.

Only it was Danny next. And he knew exactly what the other teams would say. And that was a line he wouldn't cross. "Hey, buddy," Stiles called as Danny pulled the ball up, "do you think I'm cute?" He watched the ball sail over the net.

"I mean not an insult, but it worked, good job, Stilinski."

Danny gave him a look of exasperation, but also appreciation that Stiles hadn't said anything homophobic. Greenburg, Jackson again who butt in and still reacted, had to run another lap. Finally, Scott.

"Sorry, Coach, he's been insulting me for years, I'm immune at this point." Scott was grinning at him. "And besides no way, could Stiles say anything mean to me, he loves me too much."

"That's adorable. Stilinski!" Finnstock just waved a hand.

And look it was so hard to insult his guy, but also technically Stiles was winning. And he really liked that just once he was being the best. He took a look at Scott, and knew he could destroy the guy, but also an opposing team wouldn't know those kinds of details. "Hey second string, let me hit your jaw with the ball, see if I can't even it out, that pointy side gonna hurt a girl something good if you go down on her. Not that a girl would ever let you, of course."

He watched Scott stumble over his own feet, guy always almost passed out during Melissa's sex ed talks. Three more people, and one more go at Jackson.

Not a single person made their shot.

Finnstock gave a really obnoxious slow clap. "Looks like Stilinksi is the player of this practice. All of you should be bringing that level of commitment. Good job," a hand clapped on his back and Stiles stumbled. "Let's get you in the weight room, so you can at least take a couple of the swings that are going to be thrown at you."

"Sure," Stilinski gave a wave to the team, who were all just sort of staring at him.

He was so dead.

But then Danny began to laugh, and so did a whole bunch of other people. An arm was thrown around his neck and they all went to the locker room. Some trash talk was tossed his way, but mostly it was friendly. When everyone was showered and changed, he and Scott were heading out.

"That was impressive? I think?" Scott offered. "Kinda fun that you made Jackson miss like four times."

"That was awesome," Stiles had to jump up and down a bit. "Had that locked and loaded for years and because it was for practice, he probably won't kill me."

"No he'll still kill you, but you know maybe not all the way kill you."

"Thanks," Stiles swatted Scott.

They walked to the jeep and Stiles winced. Because Jackson was leaning against it, making out with Lydia. Stiles wondered if he came up with that on his own, or had to ask Danny how to commit psychic damage like that.

"Go make out in your rich boy car," Stiles said, "though I doubt the suspension can handle that much rocking."

Scott gave him a look, and fine Stiles knew a tiny bit about cars. He had not been able to sleep one night and had wanted proof his mom's car was the best one ever. It was not.

"Hey, move," Stiles snarled a bit, "get the fuck away from my jeep." He looked at Lydia disappointed. "How does this even fit into your plans?" Because he knew. She had plans upon plans, and none of them were helped by this stupid display. "Well, at least it proves it will be easy for me to take top grades from you after all."

Lydia glared at him, "how dare you?"

"What no one is around, and your trophy boyfriend has to know how smart you are?" Stiles looked between them. "Wait, you hide it from even him? Damn."

Scott kicked him a bit, "Dude, turn it off."

Allison came over. "Hey," she said. She was looking at all of them. "Lydia, are we still going to the mall?"

"Of course, why don't you invite Scott?" Lydia was looking at him. Cold, calculating. And Stiles knew it was going to hurt. "I know you'd love to come along Stiles, but —"

Stiles cut in before she could say whatever it was, because he knew he would react too much, "—but I already plans, you're right. See ya, Scott."

"Stiles, wait, you can come too!" Scott said.

"On a double date, I'm good," Stiles promised. He really didn't want to be a fifth wheel to the amount of making out that would happen in the food court. Plus, if he ever got a girlfriend, he would make out on the little photo booth in the corner, have some dignity.

Stiles stopped at the grocery store on the way home, picked up a couple things they were short on. He didn't have a job, job, but sometimes he helped around the station, and his dad slipped him some extra money for it. And it was nice to feel he was helping, even if it was still his dad's money.

He got home and stared.

There were just two guys sitting on the porch steps. There were…hot, was the only thing he could come up with. There were two hot guys on the porch. One looked a few years older than him, the other older than that but hard to tell by how much. They were dressed about the same, jeans, henleys just in different colours. Their eyes were staring at him intently.

Like really intensely.

Shit, did Jackson hire goons to beat him up?

Stiles debated driving to the station, but there was food that needed to get into the fridge. And he knew them. He didn't, but also he was sure that he did. They called to him. Stiles got out of the car and grabbed the two bags of groceries.

"Hey, are you lost or something?"

"Well, you did leave us behind, so we were lost for a bit, but luckily you smell like you, and we followed it. Please apologize for abandoning us," the older guy said. There was a smile that was just a little sinister, and he could see a bit of scarring on the guy's neck, almost like burns. "Really Stiles, it's that field trip all over again."

"I don't. Are you the dad of one of my classmates?" Stiles could not place them, but something was tickling at the back of his mind. The younger guy was just sitting there, staring at him in that bit freaky way. "My what big eyes you have," he managed to snark. "Cool, you two are weirdos just sitting on my porch. I'm going to go in and put these groceries away now."

They moved out of his way and he honestly did not expect that.

But when he opened the door, they did follow him in. "We don't have jack shit to steal. And also robbing the sheriff's house seems like a bad idea."

"No actually, it is a good idea, if that is what we were doing." The older guy seriously had the creepiest smile. "Your father talked through enough cases with me, I think I could get away with it. Murder too. It all seems really easy if you use half a brain."

Stiles backed up a bit and that bumped him into the other guy. He wanted to turn, but also was not taking his eyes off the guy who just suggested he could murder. "Are you planning to murder me?" he had to ask.

"Why would I murder you?" There was a pause. "I am mostly over the washing machine incident. Mostly. The revenge will not be murder."

"He didn't mean to, and you were dirty."

Those were the first words the other guy had said, but Stiles realized it was not the first words he had heard from the man. "You were in the woods."

Stiles risked it and stared at the guy. There was something about him. Stiles just wanted to hug him, bury his nose in the guy's neck. And it wasn't just because he was the hottest man that Stiles had ever seen. Stiles remembered the grocery bags and went to the kitchen, not surprised in the least they both followed.

"Okay, creepers back the fuck off!" he shouted. Stiles was shocked that they actually listened. They both went and sat at the table. "Damn right," he nodded. "Now I'm putting these away. Deal with it. And wait, washing machine incident?"

"It was more Scott's fault," the younger guy said, "you do nothing wrong ever. Except the everything you do wrong."

"That made no sense."

"I do enjoy that Scott has been around slightly less, he is annoying," was muttered. "My fur is not a napkin."

"Fur?" Stiles put away the food on autopilot before he turned and looked at them. "Scott? What fur does he use to clean his hands?" Stiles was lost and then a memory floated up. Watching Star Wars and eating doritos and he promised Scott he'd go get paper towels and he had rubbed his hand all over Peter. It was bad enough Peter had to go into the washing machine.

Stiles stared at the guy. "Oh my god have you been spying on me for years? What pedophile bullshit is that? How would you know about that? I'm calling my dad."

"Stiles," the other guy said softly. "You have to recognize us."

"I mean, yeah, you helped me in the woods." Stiles knew that answer was disappointing the guy. The eyebrows were showing disappointment. Like actual upset. "Did we meet at summer camp? Were you a counselor? I mean I was only there for two weeks. Didn't actually mean to make that smoke bomb."

Stiles hopped up on the counter, just to feel a bit taller than them, he was used to being bigger than them. Why had he just thought that? The three of them watched each other. "Who are you?" he whispered.

"You know who we are, you are just scared to say it. Disappointing, but then we knew scared was a large part of your feelings. You talked about it often enough to us." The older guy was tapping his fingers on the table. "You are smarter than this. Just get there."

"Give him time," the other one growled. "I'm in charge of us, and I say let him get there."

"Just because you were the bedtime favourite, doesn't actually make you in charge, he got burned for me!"

When they growled at each other, Stiles knew. He had probably known the second he saw them on the porch, but he was not going to admit that. "How are you people?"

They both turned and looked at him. There were shrugs. "We just came to in the woods," Derek said after a moment. "I heard Scott shouting, and then could smell you."

"My wolves became real. Oh my god, how are we going to explain this to my dad?" Stiles stared at them. They said nothing just stared back.

Eventually though there was a rumble. "We get hungry now," Derek said. "You need to feed us."

"Yup, right. Oh god, do I have to toilet train the two of you?"

Noah was driving home in a pretty decent mood. The town had not shit the bed that day, and there was mainly just paperwork on his desk.

The biggest complaint he had was the deputy who had a tendency to call in sick on Sundays which was code for hungover. He was young and looking for a girlfriend, but still it was getting to be a problem. Noah stopped at the grocery store, and look he loved his son, and he tried to stick by the diet, but some days you just needed salt.

A mini bag of chips eaten in the parking lot, bag through out, febreeze to cover the smell of cool ranch, and one of those chew tabs that felt like you brushed your teeth.

He'd feel guilty, but man could not live by kale alone. Or ever, thank god, Stiles hated kale too. Super foods were super ass and he was not changing his mind on this. He ran and lifted weights at the small gym at work, that had to warrant a bit of treat now and then.

Noah was in better shape than he had been at twenty five, and it was really fucking annoying that his son was correct on all of this. But if he sneaked in the occasional treat, Stiles did not have to know.

He whistled a bit as he pulled into the driveway. It was nice to be home for actual dinner time. He went inside and called to Stiles that he was going to have a quick shower and change. He could hear Stiles talking and shouted a greeting to Scott as well.

Fifteen minutes later he walked into the kitchen, realized it wasn't Scott with Stiles. He gave a nod. "Hey, Peter, Derek," he said as he patted the stuffies' head automatically as he walked by them. "Been awhile since Stiles had you at the table." Noah went into the fridge magically hoping a coke would appear in there. But no, various flavours of sparkling water. Joy upon his house. He grabbed lime because Stiles liked the black cherry, and actually liked it. He pulled the top and took a sip. As he closed the fridge he froze for just a moment.

Noah sat at the table, tried to stay calm. He looked at Peter who smiled and gave a little wave, Derek who just stared. And Stiles who was very much not making eye contact. "Stiles, it is pretty damn powerful magic to turn your stuffed animals into humans."

"Shapeshifters, actually it seems. Werewolves if you want to have fun with it," Peter offered up. "We practiced a bit last night when we found ourselves alive."

"Interesting," Noah managed to say. He allowed himself one beer a week to go with Sunday night football, but it was Tuesday so there wasn't any alcohol in the house. He really wished this had happened on a Sunday. He nodded a bit to himself. "Stiles, a little help here?"

"How did you know it was them right away? It took me like twenty minutes!" Stiles flailed a bit.

Noah looked at them. "I've known them since you were three, Stiles. Tucked them in with you a million times. You had me run down a school bus with my cruiser lights going because you forgot Derek on it during that kindergarten field trip." Noah watched Derek pale a bit at the memory. "They smell like you, I could never not know the scent of your love."

"That is weird? But also," Stiles was hugging him. "Kinda cool."

Noah patted Stiles' arm. "Back to the point, I know you have like a stupid amount of untapped magic in you that we are working on, but like this should be way above your skill set until your mid-forties at least. Your grandmother can't do this kind of thing, and she is really powerful." Maybe he should call his mom, ask some questions. But christ on a crutch, his polish was not up to this conversation.

"Don't think it was just him," Peter explained, "think of everything you've poured into us."

"I'm not magic, skipped me in the family," Noah dismissed. He has always been very well grounded in reality. "I didn't have a part in this." Stares from everyone, "I didn't," he protested. "Never been able to conjure a single thing in my life."

"Dad, I haven't wanted to bring this up, but how many near misses at work?" Stiles had his hands in his pockets. The pocket's of his mom's hoodie, that was barely holding on, but Stiles always wore it in times of extreme stress. "How many almost bullets, you got hit by a car and were fine. You don't manifest, but you have something in you."

"Plus, you spoke to us too, made us real," Peter added. There was a smile, "how many cases did you talk through with me, how many times did you chide Derek for falling out of bed and put him back in?"

"Didn't fall out, Stiles let go," Derek grumbled.

"You treated us like how Stiles did, like we were real."

Noah sighed, "fine perhaps I got a little bit of the family magic, but still. Walk me through what happened?"

Stiles explained everything and did not make eye contact at going into the woods alone in the middle of the night, and there would be a grounding for sure on that one.

Noah went and got a legal pad and started making notes.

Tree.

Virgin blood.

Magic Stiles.

Shapeshifters.

"I have remember the polish word for virgin to talk to your grandmother, Stiles. Thanks for that." He groaned a bit. "Right okay. I'm calling my mother. You three eat. Save me some." Noah went up to his bedroom and tried to remember the time difference, but also she absolutely would have sensed the bloodline doing insane shit and be expecting the call.

He was right, his Polish was not up to this conversation, and her English had gotten worse. "Ma!" he finally yelled, "Ma, he made people —that's outside the realm of our family magic."

"Ninth generation to carry. The three by three, you know that's a magic number in our family," she managed her heavy and tired voice. "Get Stiles, he needs to tell me about the tree."

Noah went downstairs and gestured to Stiles. "Hey, Baba," Stiles said cheerfully.

"Sweet boy, magic boy. I will mail you more things. Family cloak. You wear, much protection. And bracelets. Also you need to get tattoos. Big ones with the family promises. Plus make you cool to girls. I watch the Netflix. Great grandbabies, before I die."

"Ma," he knew he had paled, but at least so did Stiles at that one. "Paulina's kid knocked that girl up."

A noise of disgust, "I want a real one, that counts, that won't be stupid."

"Baba, go off," Stiles began to laugh. Noah cleared his throat to get everyone back on track. "So I kinda made people. Men."

"They handsome, strong?"

"So gorgeous, Baba, you have no idea. Like wow, I'll text you photos."

"Yes, good, I text now, I take these photos. Good boy, strong magic, makes strong men. Wonderful."

"This is not helpful, Ma. What if they go back to being stuffed animals?"

"No, he too magic, plus magic tree, with his virgin blood. Don't worry sweet boy, Baba was virgin until she was seventeen too. Then met your grandfather. No more virgin. You meet someone, and you'll not be virgin anymore."

Noah was getting a beer tonight, hang Sunday night football. "Ma! The tree?"

"Bah, is nothing, beautiful boy just awoke all the latent magic in your town, is fine. If town had tree, town need magic. Oh! Beacon Hills, our Stiles beacon for supernatural. Only half of it probably wants him dead. I send cloak. Get those tattoos, all be fine. Go go."

Noah stared at the phone that disconnected.

"I uhhh, there is a secret tiny bottle of vodka, that I was never curious about, and didn't get at a party I sneaked out to once."

Noah just nodded and held out his hand. Alcohol too easily became a crutch for him and he had to be careful, but sometimes you had to just make a choice and stand in it. He drank the one shots worth. "I hate vodka," he groaned, "and don't drink underage."

"Would never," Stiles swore. Stiles sat on the bed. "Dad?"

"Yeah?" He sat next to Stiles, wiped a hand down his face.

"Has she gotten a little…" Stiles swirled a finger next to his brain.

"I mean probably, she's how old now?" Noah thought about it. Which made him think about how old he was getting. "But no, she cursed my third grade teacher to always have one slightly damp sock and have a bra than never fits. And pretty sure it took."

"I didn't meant to wake up all the magic in Beacon Hills with my virgin blood."

"I really want the whole world to forget the word virgin for like five minutes." Noah just sort of stared into space for a couple minutes, and was impressed that Stiles managed to stay quiet. "Okay, let's go talk to your wolves."

They went back downstairs and saw the two of them exploring the whole of the first level. Smelling stuff, staring with horror at the top of the bookcase. Right, he had used to put them up there for five minutes when Stiles was in trouble as a kid.

"Hey," he called to them softly. "Don't know if you think it is good news, but the magic was strong enough you likely stay human."

The got a shrug from both of them. He looked at Stiles who also just shrugged. "Fine, I need some basic information. Have a seat."

He noticed when Stiles sat, Derek crowded him on the couch. Peter decided to perch on the arm at the other end of the couch. Sure, why not. He went to the kitchen and grabbed the legal pad.

"Basics. Names."

"Peter and Derek Hale."

"Hale?" He looked at Stiles. "You didn't name them Stilinksi?"

"Dad, Dad, Dad," he laughed, "they aren't our family, they were their own family so would have a different last name."

He sort of grunted at that. "Do you remember having a family? Do you remember being a stuffed animal?"

"Both," Derek said. And it seemed he was going to say nothing else, just somehow try to get even closer to Stiles.

"We know we were toys, we remember this sort of birds eye view, I guess you could say. I have strong opinions about Scott's dorito fingers, and thanks to you I am fairly certain I could be a criminal mastermind. And I know Stiles saved me." That got a look on Peter's face that Noah couldn't interpret.

But also, "No crime," he said firmly.

"I also remember my sister, my niece, pack," Peter said after a moment. "And I remember the heat of the fire."

"I'm sorry I wasn't quicker," Stiles hopped up and was hugging Peter.

Noah watched Peter slowly hug back.

"Okay, that is too much for my brain to deal with, so let's focus. Stiles, call Scott."

Stiles was dialing before Noah could even give him instructions. Noah shook his head and wrote on the paper to ask Scott if he knew who Derek and Peter Hale were. "Hey buddy, still at the mall?"

"Nah, I'm home, want me to come over? I mean if you've already done your English homework, I could maybe —"

Noah shook his head slowly and was pleased to see the wolves in agreement with him. "No, Dad and I have some stuff going on. Hey this is gonna sound weird, did I leave Peter and Derek at your place?"

"Who?" there was a bit of a growl from Peter and Noah threw his pen at the guy to get him to be quiet. It was impressive how it was caught when he wasn't even looking. "Oh those stuffed animals you used to be obsessed with. Nope, not here. Last I saw they were somewhere in your closet I think? Dunno."

"Cool thanks, probably there. I have to do a bonus creative nonfiction essay and figured writing about them would score me major points with the teacher."

"God yeah, she loves that stuff. Good luck!"

"Thanks," Stiles hung up. "Why'd you have me do that?"

"Let's us know how wide spread it was. He didn't know they were human, or think they had always been like friends of our family. Means you didn't alter the memories of people when you made them people. You just made people." That was actually a relief, still insane magic but not so huge it was beyond comprehension. He looked at the people in question. "You know how to eat."

"We know to shit in the toilet and wipe our asses too," Peter said.

"Good. Actually that's interesting."

"He took us into the bathroom often enough, we figured it out," Derek answered.

Noah made some notes with a pen he found on the table, since Peter seemed disinclined to give the thrown one back. He also noticed that Stiles was easing away from the wolves and over to him. Noah squeezed Stiles' shoulder because these two probably knew more about his son than he did. Every secret Stiles had shared, every fear and dream, those two knew.

If they abused that, well the advantage to them being unknown is no one would miss them. "When you found yourself alive, were you in those clothes?" A nod from both. "I don't suppose with wallets?"

Noah was shocked when they pulled out wallets, loaded with what had to be a few thousand dollars. "Now tell me we hit the bonus spin, and you two have i.d.?"

More nods and he was proudly shown, "Are those library cards?" He stared stunned.

"They went with me when Mom took me, I was like six? And the librarian was really cool, she made them cards too. Guess those were a part of them enough they appeared too."

"Is there anything else in your wallets?" One last nod and he saw the small scrap of paper written when Stiles had just learned to write if lost please return to me via the police station, I'll pay three whole dollars.

Noah had to rub his heart, that ached a bit remembering small Stiles.

"Okay, so that means I as sheriff will have to abuse all my powers to say your wallets were stolen, and you need new i.d.s and we'll have to forge a whole bunch of stuff. Which means calling my cousin," he cursed a bit. The guy was a pain in the ass, but one hell of a forger.

"Stiles, tomorrow after school, take your wolves shopping for more clothes. Use the money in their wallets."

Noah was so tired. "I'll get the guest room ready."

"But we sleep with Stiles," Derek protested.

"Not while human you don't," he said firmly. Derek tried to protest, "I will put you on the punishment shelf," Noah warned, and that got immediate silence. "That's what I thought. Stiles homework, you two, I can't anymore tonight but we'll figure it all out, okay?"

He went over and ruffled their hair a bit, which seemed to deeply displease both of them.

One guest room prepped later, Noah collapsed on his bed and decided to sleep for an actual eight hours. He also decided to pretend when he heard a door open in the hall that it was someone going to the bathroom, and not anyone sneaking into any bedrooms.

Chapter Text

Stiles was stuck. That was weird, because he was in his bed and couldn't figure out how he got stuck. It took a good couple minutes to process it was because his arm was under something heavy. A guy in fact. He'd be all happy that he had a guy in his bed, and he kinda was, but also it was a guy who just a few days ago had been polyester and not alive. 

The guy was drooling on his arm a bit. 

"Derek," he whispered.

That got a noise and a squirm, and hey the mouth closed so no drool, but it didn't get his arm free. He tried to ease it out but there was a growl and Derek rolled, buried his face in Stiles' neck. A hot guy was pressed up against him. In the morning, when things tended to come up in the world as it was, so to speak. 

There was a knock on the door, "Stiles, time to get up for school, and ,yes, you are going. I am not opening this door, so I can continue to have plausible deniability that you are alone in there. But if I don't hear movement in ten minutes…" The threat was left unsaid which always made it worse. His dad knew that Stiles would imagine something a million times worse than anything his dad would actually do. Once he heard the footsteps reach the stairs, Stiles shoved at Derek.

"Dude, wake up time!" 

There was a groan. "Sleep is so good? Why do you stay up late watching the naked people videos when there is sleep to be had?"

Stiles froze, and any morning wood he had left died an instant death. "Oh god," he groaned.

"They say that a lot in the videos when you don't wear your headphones with them," Derek stretched and looked gorgeous, it was unfair. Why did he have to always call Derek his pretty wolf growing up? It was wrong. He had created a monster who knew every single secret of Stiles'. Fuck.

"I'm going to go shower," Stiles said.

"K," Derek yawned. "You used to take me with you to stand guard but that was when it was baths. Why'd you stop those, the bubbles were always neat."

"So you are talkative in the morning. Interesting." It was less interesting, and more horrifying than anything. Stiles went to the bathroom, and on the way ran into Peter who glared at him. "What did I do?"

"Be incredibly smelly, this is what Derek has been dealing with every night? I am glad you regularly forgot me on the couch."

Stiles stared at Peter and decided nope he was not dealing with what were clearly hurt feelings before he peed and had a shower. He hugged Peter, "I love you too, I promise," he said and dashed into the bathroom. He went through the morning routine as quickly as he could and by the time he made it downstairs, the other three were sitting at the table, his dad was making more notes on that legal pad while on the phone. Which was on speakerphone.

"Come on, Frank, just help me out."

"Nah, Noah, why should I help a fucking cop? How do I know this isn't being recorded?"

"Because if it was being recorded would I be saying do me a solid, and forge me some fucking i.d.s?" His dad was getting that pinched look on his face. "Look, I know I'm a disappointment to the family, I get it."

"Hey, you are awesome, what the hell, Dad?" Stiles glared at the phone. "Who are you to say bad things about my Dad?"

"Oh the spark is sassy, not that I would know since you haven't brought him to a family reunion since he was five."

"My god, Dad told me to not go to those so I wouldn't feel guilty about having to arrest half my family. Now look, Stiles' magic did some insane stuff, and Ma is okay with it, says it fine. Probably. We might have started the end times I don't know yet. It's fine," was said again, "I just need two social security numbers for a Peter Hale aged 37, and a Derek Hale aged 23. Just find a couple dead guys and do your thing. And I know you know how to find dead guys, I grew up with your father."

Stiles should eat breakfast, but he was too fascinated by what he was learning about his family.

"Pops always send one day you'd come into the fold," there was a mad laugh, "need a week, and family rate."

"Like hell I can afford that. But I'll make certain records disappear. Square?"

"Square. Hey Stiles," the guy that Stiles assumed was a cousin, "You coming into the family fold too?"

"I mean I was thinking F.B.I?" Stiles offered and those were polish words he definitely wasn't supposed to know. "Always good to have a man on the inside, right?"

That got more laughter and the promise of a week, and then the phone disconnected. Stiles stared at his father who was pointedly making more notes, and not looking at him.

"Dad, I have like a million questions."

"I will answer one truthfully, one truly but vague, and one with a yes or no answer," his dad offered. "And that is all you get."

Shit, he had to make them good ones. The best ones. "Okay, give me time to think."

"Nope, during breakfast or nothing."

"Dad, how is that fair?" Stiles whined a bit and he didn't care. A bowl of cereal was put in front of him, and he was losing time. "Yes or no first," he said and ate a couple spoonfuls. He was blanking and looked to his wolves for help. Derek was ignoring it all focused on food, and awake enough not to be talkative anymore. "Come on, Peter, I made you the smart wolf. Help me out."

"What will it get me?" Peter was holding a cup of coffee and leaned back. "Nothing is free in this world, Stiles." 

Stiles scowled a bit, "what do you want?"

"I get to have my revenge on Scott."

There was a snort from his dad. "Are you encouraging him?" Stiles was shocked.

"Look I had to deal with you when he went into the washing machine and you were convinced he would shrink or fall apart. That was a hellish two hours, so I'm on his side. He gets a reasonable amount of revenge."

"Of course, I'm nothing if not a reasonable man." Stiles watched as his eyes flashed a different colour. "Agree?"

"Yeah," because he loved Scott, but the dorito incident had been rough. "So help?"

"Sheriff Stilinski," Peter's voice was low and rumbly as he said it, and Stiles didn't know if he liked it. It was a weird voice. He looked to Derek who also had his head tilted a bit in confusion, "yes or no. Will you keep us safe?"

"Yes," was said without hesitation. 

It probably wasn't the question Stiles would have asked if he could have thought of one, but it did ease something inside him, and he saw the two wolves relax as well. 

Two questions left and his dad was almost done his coffee. "Vague but true," Stiles demanded, "What the fuck is up with my name, Dad? Baba named you Noah for god's sake, there's Aunt Paulina, apparently a cousin Frank, and others. So why I get the thing that is insane?"

"It was your mom's dad's name, I liked Samuel or Marshall," Stiles watched as his dad smirked as the coffee cup was brought back up, "but she was very…persuasive."

That got a delighted laugh from Peter and an awkward noise from Derek, and it took Stiles a few seconds too long and he flailed so hard he almost fell off the chair. "Oh my god, Dad, gross, no what the —you do not tell me that kind of thing about Mom!"

"One last question."

Shit, his dad was cleaning up his dishes. "Which is stronger in our family: magic or criminality?"

There was a huff, "Neck and neck? The magic sort of feeds the criminality, or vice versa?" There was a shrug, "look, it's a matter of belief. How much you believe in the magic, fuels it. But even if you ignore it, you still got a spark."

"Why you have so many lucky breaks, but can't really do anything." Stiles made sure it was a statement and not a question.

"Yeah," was said after a moment. "Your imagination, your view of the world is so huge, that of course your magic is strong and well, a little chaotic. As for the crime? Well, your family survives enough war, genocide, famine, and all that, you get in the habit of making sure  you survive. We're survivors, pragmatists."

"So how'd you end up a cop?"

"You ran out of questions," he said and Stiles made a face. "But why not? Mostly to keep you mother out of jail."

"What the fuck?" Stiles shouted.

"You know I've been ignoring how much swearing has been going on, but don't think that I am somehow okay with my kid saying fuck this much in front of me. Now, the plan for today. I need to go to work, and pretend like everything is normal. I will idly mention that we have house guests, friends from out of town who are debating moving here."

"People will be confused we have friends."

"Always seemed to camp at the same time on Shasta, you developed an online friendship with Derek. Derek finished school and he and Peter decided to travel a bit, ended up here."

"I didn't know you could lie that good, Dad," Stiles was a bit in awe at how naturally he said it. "Scott won't believe it though, I'd never not tell him about a friend online."

"Stiles, you've told him about Derek a million times, not your fault Scott was too busy losing at Mario Kart to pay attention."

"Your mind fascinates me," Peter was watching his dad, and it was kind of creepy. "I want to play with, see what happens." Okay, super creepy.

At least Derek was also giving Peter a don't be weird look. "I want to go back to sleep," Derek said. "Can I do that? What am I supposed to do today?"

"Don't worry, Dad will call me out sick, and we'll have the whole day to -"

"Nu-uh, your ass is going to class," Noah declared. "You need to tell Scott about this, because good shot you won't be able to hang out with him as much due to all this." He waved a hand about. "You go have a normal day, and when you come home you are taking your wolves shopping. Because they need more than one set of clothes. You used to take them to the mall all the time, won't be any different."

Stiles thought it would be a bit different. But he nodded because his dad voice was dead serious and he was right. He finished his cereal as his dad left. There was a call of goodbye and the sound of the front door. But then the door opened and closed again.

"Your keys are actually on the hook by the door," he called out but his dad appeared in the kitchen again. "What?"

"Why is there a black Camaro in front of our house?"

"Our neighbours suddenly got cool?" Stiles offered.

"It's mine," Derek replied. Stiles looked at him, and there was a scowl. "Don't blame me, you said we'd drive around in my cool car. You made it, not me."

"Can you drive?" Stiles asked, curious. "Because I had that idea when I was what, nine? I didn't exactly understand the mechanics of driving."

"I think so," Derek said after a moment.

"Okay," his dad kinda sighed, "I will add driving lessons in parking lots to the list, and add the car to our insurance. We'll just have him pass the driver's tests that will be easiest. Stiles, what else have you imagined as a part of their backstory that I should be on the look out for?"

"I don't know, I got them when I was three, and I kinda just I didn't ever stop thinking about their world because it was the only thing that ever calmed my brain down."

"Well, then," was all his dad could say. But this time they got a proper goodbye with a hug for him, and hair ruffles for the wolves. "Be good. For the love of god, be good today."

That was rude, but also fair, and he was fairly certain most of that had actually been directed at Peter. Who just smiled. Yeah, he had a feeling he'd be hearing his dad say that to Peter a lot. 

Derek was a good boy though. Apparently with a cool as shit car.

Stiles didn't want to leave them, but also he had to head to school. "Okay, no driving the Camaro, no leaving the house, the microwave only to cook, there are leftovers you can heat up. I'll be home by four and we'll go shopping." There were nods of agreement and Stiles hugged them both before he went to school.

"Hey!" Scott said, "where were you?"

"Right here?"

"I thought you were picking me up today?"

Shit. "Sorry, really sorry, but family friends showed up yesterday and just have thrown us for a loop." He hugged Scott, "we were not prepared for guests. Turns out my dad reads work emails, not personal ones." There was a laugh and a hug back. "They're actually here for a couple of weeks, so going to be a bit busy hosting and all that."

"Sure, all good. But we can still hang right?"

"Dude, yes, just might be more at your house. Just to not crowd them and all." Scott looked relieved and Stiles hated lying to him like this, but no freaking way could he explain magic to Scott. He had been the one who accidentally ruined Santa Claus for their whole class. Not out of malice but because he was just so very lacking in imagination that Scott really dove too deep into the but no how does he deliver that many gifts thing. God he loved, Scott, the dumbass.

Classes went slower than normal. It was hell, and usually he distracted himself by watching Lydia, but she just wasn't interesting today for some reason. He tried to think of everything the wolves would need clothing wise. Stiles was relieved he had always believed the Hales were secretly rich and they had wallets loaded with cash, because well they were living off of one salary of a government employee, the savings were not robust.

Stiles was determined to get a scholarship for university because otherwise it was local community college and that didn't look the best for the F.B.I. Not if he wanted to work in the archives. But that was a future problem. The current problem was having to take Peter and Derek shopping.

He went home and was relieved the house was still standing, and it didn't seem like the Camaro had moved, very good sign. Stiles went inside. "Hey guys, ready to go shopping?"

It was quiet. That was not good. He heard noise and followed it out back. "Huh," was all he managed to say as it seemed Derek was working out. Shirtless. Peter was sitting on the steps calling encouragement. He sat next to Peter. "Whatcha doing?" 

"He got bored without you, I told him to do that and then he did." Peter was watching carefully. "I have chosen not to do that. It looks exhausting."

"Humans have to work out if they want to keep the shape you are currently in," Stiles offered, "I kinda feel like you would not like getting pudgey."

"True, I do like that I look like this, but fairly certain if I run around a bunch in wolf form, then it will maintain this body and I don't have to do all of that," he said gesturing at Derek doing push ups. "That is just a no." 

"Yeah, I'm with you there," Stiles had to agree. "Derek, wrap it up and have a quick shower, we're going shopping! The Walmart is closing because they are opening up a new super one at the other end of town. Killer clearance deals to stock the two of you up."

Peter's hand was on his shoulder, and fuck but that was not a friendly grip. "Walmart, you mean the place where you got good boy hot wheels, and I got dragged along the ground while Derek was clutched carefully to avoid the dirt?"

Stiles winced a bit. "He got dragged sometimes too, when I wanted to show you the Halloween stuff. He didn't like it, you did. You like horror more."

"Hmm," the grip stayed tight. "I reserve the right to object to the experience."

"You are so damn fussy," Stiles muttered.

"That is your fault," Peter smiled. Derek was looking at them in confusion and sweat was dripping down his chest. Stiles stared at every drop. "We can smell things you know, emotions. Would you like to know  what you smell like currently?"

"I have a good idea." Stiles went inside and waited for Derek to clean up. Derek and Peter fought a bit over who would sit in the front of the jeep with Stiles and he was honestly surprised that Peter won, but whatever. He drove to Walmart and Peter sneered. "No objecting until you try it."

"It is not brussel sprouts, it is a den of poverty and depression," Peter growled. "And it didn't work —you hate brussel sprouts."

"I just haven't found the right way to cook them yet." Stiles hopped out of the jeep, "now you two need a bit of everything. We'll start with toiletries and then hit clothes." Inside he grabbed a cart, felt both of his wolves freeze a bit. "What?"

"It smells like shame and desperation," Derek muttered and hunched in on himself.

"Dude, it's a closing Walmart, even I can smell that," Stiles had to point out, "be grateful you don't smell baby puke too." He pushed the buggy that of course had one wheel that didn't really roll. "But the bargains will be epic."

The store was already half empty and closed off, and Stiles ignored the noises of displeasure the two men made, the sneers of Peter, the confusion on Derek. "Now do you want your deodorant alpine fresh or sea breeze?" They gave him looks of horror and he thought about it. "You need everything scentless or it will drive you crazy huh?" Twin nods of agreement. "Shit, okay," he said. He managed to find shampoo and soap. Deodorant would have be gotten at the drugstore where there were more options. 

There was a hell of a deal on toilet paper, so he grabbed the giant forty eight roll package. "Now to clothes."

What was left had some crazy sales, like packs of underwear and socks were under five bucks so he grabbed a few for he and his dad. "boxers, brief, boxer briefs?"

"None," Peter and Derek said.

"Sorry, what?"

Derek shrugged, "underwear doesn't look comfy. You always have to do weird shimmying to put it on. Why can't we skip it?"

"Hmm, it does feel confining."

"You are not freeballing out in public," he hissed. "Sorry, at home in sweats, I guess you can, but underwear is happening." He stared at them. "Wait, are you free flying right now? Just answer I do not need visual proof in the middle of Walmart." There were nods. "Oh my god, okay. Nope. Boxer briefs for you both, you will learn to deal."

There were growls and he just pointed at them, to which they subsided. He went to a rack. "Pick out three tops."

Derek got two black and a grey.

Peter was refusing to touch anything. "No," Peter sneered, "they are rough and unpleasant and smell of loathing and regret."

Stiles groaned as Derek sniffed them and put them back. Great, just great. "Where do you want to shop then, because you need a whole wardrobe, and we only have so much money. This is cheap and practical." There were a couple of the henleys that his dad liked, so he grabbed a few extra for the man. 

"Macys always seemed tolerable."

"They are all made in the same damn sweatshop in Vietnam, just Macys charges double," Stiles protested.

"Macys," Peter said firmly. He paused, "we need to pay and leave. Right now."

"Why?" Stiles looked around, nothing seemed different.

"Every worker smells the same, sadness, defeat, blinding rage. But one just came from the back and is happy." Peter was keeping a wary eye behind Stiles. "I am deeply concerned about why someone would smell happy working in all of this."

Stiles would have laughed, because it was all too absurd, but also actually yeah, someone smelling happy working in this, was a problem. He noticed that his wolves immediately flanked him, were guarding him from the supposed threat. "Okay, let's check out and go to Macys."

It couldn't be that bad.

Stiles pulled into the driveway and just sat in the car. "I want to be clear, absolutely clear. I love you both. I would die for you." His wolves were quiet and chastened, even Peter. "But I am never, ever, going shopping with you. Ever again." He was starting to understand the look that would be on his mom's face when they would come home from back to school shopping when he was little. 

"We're sorry," Derek said.

"I'm not, that man was quite rude." Peter was clearly trying to bluff his way through. "I was just —"

Stiles ignored it, got out of the car and went inside. "We're home, and I left all the bags in the car. I do not care." He went and fell face first onto the couch. A soothing hand rubbed his hair. "Help?"

"I'll get them," his dad promised. 

Footsteps, voice murmurs. 

Stiles just wanted to lay there. He was exhausted. It was cruel, and hell, and other words he was too tired to come up with. That's how bad it had been, they made Stiles lose his words.

"Did you buy out every store?" was heard in the hallway.

"Hardly, it is enough to keep us going though," Peter offered. "Also I bought you something, Noah."

Wait he had?

"Me too," Derek added.

Stiles pushed himself up and he saw Derek thrust a tie at his dad. "Stiles always bought you a tie on the Dad day. Thank you for promising to keep us safe." 

Fuck, Stiles was not going to cry.

"You have horrible taste in clothes, and aftershave," Peter said. "This will not offend my eyes." A sweater was handed to Noah, along with a bottle. Guessing it was not Walmart clearance aftershave.

"Well now, boys, I mightily appreciate that," his dad hugged the wolves and Stiles lost all his anger and tired at the way they both leaned into the hugs. "Did you thank Stiles for helping you out and taking such good care of you?"

Two wolves made human looked over at him, with huge eyes and Stiles sighed. "Yeah, they tried real hard to be good. It was all a bit overwhelming, but we managed."

"Good. Who's hungry?"

"I could eat," Stiles agreed. 

They sat and ate a late dinner, all of them quiet. It was agreed that the bags could wait until tomorrow. Stiles collapsed in bed, wondered if Derek would sneak in again. He didn't and Stiles felt very bereft without his…whatever it was that Derek was now.

In the morning he went downstairs, everything was put away and both men were in their new clothes and looking at him, worried.

Stiles smiled, "you two look great. The clothes are better from Macy's, you were right."

"I'm always right," Peter said back to himself.

"Sure, but money doesn't grow on trees," he chided and blinked. "Fuck, I sounded like my dad." The intonation had been exactly as he remembered hearing whenever he asked for a second action figure.

"No but it does grow from you," Peter said. He opened his wallet and what had been almost empty at the end of yesterday had refilled, "it is quite convienant that you always thought we were secretly rich. I wish to go back to the mall."

"No," Stiles shuddered in horror. "I need to psych myself up for that. We can go in two weeks."

Peter nodded in acknowledgement. 

Derek was looking a little sleepy. "The guest bed is mean," he said, yawning.

Stiles ruffled his hair. "You can sleep in mine," he said. "You didn't have to stay away." That got a rumbly noise from deep in Derek's chest. "Not mad anymore. Just realizing how hard this is going to be."

"Too hard?" Peter asked casually and there was a touch of fear in his gaze, that he didn't manage to hide. Derek was just watching him.

"Nah, we got this," Stiles promised. "So long as we minimize trips to the mall, we'll get this all sorted out. No big deal."

Stiles saw the relief in their gazes and soon his dad joined, them, and Peter gave a noise of satisfaction. Guess his dad was wearing the new aftershave. 

"You are going to school," his dad warned before Stiles could say anything. "You two are coming with me to the station, so we can report missing wallets."

"Dad, I got to warn you, they are…difficult in public."

"I got this."

Stiles sighed, well the man would learn. "With your shield, or on it, I need to go get Scottie." He looked at Peter and found himself echoing his dad from the day before. "Be good. For the love of god, be good."

The smirk was not at all comforting. 

He froze when Derek hugged him without a word, and Stiles headed out. High school no longer carried a single fear, after belt shopping with Peter.

Chapter Text

Noah stared at the station. He took a few slow breaths. "Alright," he looked at Peter and Derek, "okay. So." More staring. "How much do you remember about the station?"

"I believe I have been deputized, so I am allowed to murder people, correct?" Peter was smiling, looking a little too excited about the prospect of murder.

"We protect, we do not murder." He pointed at Peter. "I have only fired my gun a half dozen times in the line of duty, and most of those were to scare coyotes. No. Murder. Ever." He paused, "unless it is self defense or to protect Derek or Stiles."

"And you," Peter said. "I would murder for you."

"Thank you, that is very sweet," Noah offered because he had no clue what else to say. Seriously Peter was a mess, one that his son had created. "Derek, no murder."

"Your couch is comfy, can I have a nap on it?"

"Why the hell are you so obsessed with sleep, son?" He was a bit concerned. "Did Stiles give you narcolepsy or something?"

"I never slept before?" Derek shrugged. Which was followed by glowering. "He had bad dreams, I had to protect him." That glowering was aimed at him. There was even a growl. "You didn't."

Peter joined in on the growl. All smiles and smarm completely gone.

Well then, that answered a few questions that Noah had, and had hoped to avoid. "You remember. This conversation will be easier in my office. Where I can better see both of you."

They all got out of the car and people were very curious about the visitors, but also didn't ask when Noah didn't do introductions. He ushered them into his office. They had been here hundreds of times before, and he felt an ache as they settled on the couch where Stiles tended to put them, when he would slide to the floor to colour, build lego, later do homework.

He leaned against his desk, hands braced. "Go ahead," he said after a moment. They looked confused. "Stiles? My drinking? Grief? Where do you want to begin?"

"She sang to us," Derek said. "When she tucked Stiles in, she sang to us too. And I can't remember the song, just the way she sang it bad. And it was good." There was a glare. "Why did she leave us?"

Fuck, how do you explain medical conditions to people who weren't people just a few days ago. "She didn't want to," he said after a moment. "Human bodies are fragile and breakdown. Her brain broke down sooner than anyone could imagine." He looked at them. "What about your family?"

There were shrugs and eyebrows and no words at all.

Okay then. That was fair, if he was them, he didn't suppose he'd want to talk to the man whose sister had burned their family to ash. "I am sorry. I am sorry for Paulina, and I am sorry I drowned my grief. I am sorry I hurt Stiles by that drowning."

"You should have died too," Peter said, and wasn't that a shot to the heart. "No," there was a bit of a shrug and hand wave. "Not that we are demanding your death. There were three nights where you drank so much it should have killed you. I remember that because you ended up hugging me those three nights. That was too much alcohol, and that kills humans. But you woke up."

Noah nodded a bit, "we all know why." Stiles was likely right that the bit of magic he had was about making him lucky, protected him. Knowing what he knew about Stiles now, there was a good shot it wasn't even about Noah himself, but about not leaving Stiles alone.

He was absolutely fine with what little magic ran through him, serving his son.

They looked so very human and fragile in this moment as he had to try to explain something he still didn't understand. "Claudia," he took a breath, "it was slow and painful. And we had time to prepare, it wasn't a sudden death, but that made the grief worse somehow, it was mourning twice. Wave after wave. And I figured I was already drowning, so might as well drown. I didn't…I wasn't…it wasn't…" he took a breath. "I wasn't wanting to leave him, but I didn't know what else to do. So I made bad calls."

"I wish to harm Paulina," Peter said calmly.

Noah stared at the bit of scarring that could be seen on Peter's neck. "Yeah, she ever hauls her ass back to Beacon Hills, you two absolutely get a shot at her." He scrubbed a hand over his face. "I am sorry that I am not a very strong man, in the end."

Derek was glowering a bit, "Stiles doesn't think that."

"And you agree with Stiles?"

"No, he's an idiot a lot," Derek said, and that got a surprised laugh from Noah.

"Thought you'd always be on his side," he said laughing at the grumbly look on the guy's face.

"I am. Just, I can be on his side while thinking he's really stupid and loud and obnoxious, and I still don't understand why he likes the naked people videos."

Noah choked a bit on his spit and decided nope, Stiles could deal with human sexuality with the wolves. Peter was smiling again though, and Noah had a feeling that guy definitely understood the appeal of the naked people videos. "So, where we at?"

There were just shrugs and glowers, and he wondered why he expected different. "Fair, just know I'll answer whatever questions you have, if I can." That got nods. "Now to practicalities, we are going to lie about stolen wallets, because that way when certain paperwork shows up it looks like replacements for missing information."

He really didn't trust how excited Peter looked at lying, and Derek was petting the couch longingly. Boy really liked naps, but he understood better now. It was an interesting question how much soul did they have of their own, and how much was what they poured into the creatures.

Fuck, that did mean Peter was, in part, his fault.

Noah was just not going to think about that too hard. He took them out to the main desk and explained that they were family friends visiting and had left their wallets in the car, when they had stopped at a rest area, and wham damn highway thieves. Can't trust people these days.

They filled out a theft report and a bunch of other papers, because you needed those to get replacements from the dmv. Or it laid the groundwork for the family forgeries. He also got to watch deputies flirt with the wolves, and he found it amusing how it confused Derek and made Peter preen. "Alright, everyone, thanks for the help, back to work. I'm just going to see them out."

"Sir, we got you covered if you want to drive them home," was said. "You need to head to the court house to pick up those files anyways."

"Good point," he agreed and ushered them out. Noah dropped them at home, went about his day which was mostly paperwork hell, the downside of being sheriff, but he endured. Didn't even get home that late, which was nice.

"Hey," Stiles called. "I heard you were all up in the emotions."

"Did you?"

"Well Peter said you spoke with honesty and integrity and he is appalled that you willingly did so, and Derek frowned and said he's okay I guess."

Noah snorted at that. "We talked a bit, yeah, cleared some air."

Stiles nodded, "they understand a lot, but I think somethings are confusing?"

"Most people feel like that, why should they be different?" Noah hugged Stiles. "We'll figure it all out." Dinner was nice, they had already fallen into a steady routine and Stiles checked his phone, said Scott wanted him to come over to play video games for a bit.

They all agreed to that and then Noah went to watch some t.v., relax. And ended up with the two just staring at him. "Yeah?" he said finally.

"Can we go run in the woods?" Derek looked hopeful.

"I admit that perhaps experimenting with shifting would be interesting," Peter said after a moment, when Noah hadn't responded right away.

Noah watched them. "How hard does it hurt to be human?"

"Not hurt," Derek said, "just itchy after a while."

"And why me, not Stiles?" Noah tapped a finger on the table. He thought about it, "You are worried it would scare him, or he would think something and change you back?"

Shrug and eyebrows. He stood and gestured, they all went back into the car. He drove out to the woods and lead them to the west path that was a bit too overgrown for the casual evening hiker. They all listened and it seemed quiet. "Go on then," he said and did not know what to do when clothes began to be stripped off, it made sense though, shift into wolf while wearing jeans, either got stuck or torn jeans.

It wasn't seamless, the transformation. He sort of assumed human-blink-wolf, but Stiles had always been into weird sci-fi movies which meant the transformation had to look like really questionable special effects. There was sort of compression and bone snapping and he gagged a bit at the noises they made. It was maybe thirty seconds, but it was a rough half minute.

But then they were there, wolves, the same colouring as when they were stuffies, and huge. He didn't know why he expected large dog size, but they came up to his waist and had bulk. And there was a gleam in Peter's eye.

He was not surprised when he was tackled by the two wolves in the least. Lord alive, they were heavy and he was getting a very thorough licking from both of them, and he had to laugh even as it felt like he was drowning a bit. "Go on, you wanted to run, this is not running!"

They leapt off him and tore down the path, disappearing out of sight. He'd be concerned but wolves were excellent trackers and had a strong sense of smell, they'd find their way back. He texted Stiles that he had taken them out because they were restless, didn't really expect a response.

A few minutes later though there was a text asking where they were, he was on his way. That surprised Noah, usually when the boys settled into gaming, it took them hours. He walked to the mouth of the path and it wasn't long before Stiles was there.

He watched his son run out of the car, "did I miss it?"

"They are still out there somewhere. But why are you here?"

"I wanna see the wolf them," Stiles was grinning, "is it awesome, are they super cute? Do they awoo, I bet Derek has a great awoo. Did Peter's sound sarcastic, like was it actually a dry awhoo and not a proper howl?"

"Stiles, nothing can tear you away during game time."

"Allison called and he swore it would be five minutes. When you texted it had been twenty, so I just waved. Don't think he even noticed."

Noah clasped Stiles' neck, "sorry."

"It's fine, he's so happy to have his first girlfriend, and one of these days Lydia will notice me and dump Jackson."

Noah didn't comment that there wasn't the same enthusiasm for Lydia in his voice as usual. "Girls make boys a bit stupid, but they don't forget their friends."

"I know, and Allison seems cool. But if it is listen to Scott attempt to be suave, or see my wolves be wolves, I'm choosing wolves," Stiles clued in, "why you holding clothes?"

"Think about it."

"They be nakey?"

Noah laughed, "they be nakey."

They leaned against the fence and talked about the Mets and some cold files that Noah had let Stiles take a look at. They argued happily about one of the cases until they heard a low growl and looked over.

"Oh shit," Stiles breathed out. Before Noah could say anything, he was running, arms flung around Derek wolf hard enough to take them both down. Peter was there and almost seemed hesitant, but Stiles laughed and was reaching for him; it was Stiles' turn to be lick to death.

He seemed to be coping better than Noah had.

But it was getting late, and they all needed rest. He whistled, both teen and beasts hurried over to him. "Changing back or staying like that for a while longer?"

"Oh no," Stiles winced as he saw the transformation, "dude, you really shouldn't have let me watch the movies you did."

"I am aware I should have used a stronger restriction hand on you," Noah agreed as it wasn't anymore pleasant in this direction. But then there were two naked men standing in front of them, lit more by the street light than the thin moon. He held out the clothes. "Hey, guys, public nudity is a misdemeanour and I'd hate to arrest you."

"Yes, but Stiles is busy staring at us and mentally comparing his dick to ours, we want to make sure we are providing enough of a view."

Noah just shoved the clothes at Peter who wasn't hiding a thing. Derek at least had dropped hands in front of cock and had ducked his head in a bit of embarrassment, but Noah damn well saw the guy looking to see if Stiles was looking at him.

Stiles definitely was.

"Hey, kiddo, how about you head home, we'll meet you there."

"I can wait," Stiles offered.

"Derek won't get dressed with you standing there," Noah said and went over, gently turned Stiles around. "Home."

"Dad," Stiles whispered, "I uhh…magic wish tree definitely was generous when helping out."

"I am aware," Noah said, because fine he had looked. "Now, home."

"Uh-huh," Stiles went to the jeep and when he turned back he looked bummed, so Noah figured the wolves were dressed. Stiles headed off and Noah turned to them.

Peter was smiling, Derek looked awkward.

"Don't even," he warned Peter. "Let's go home, make everyone some tea."

Three days later a padded envelope arrived, and Noah had to hand it to Frank, it was truly quality work on everything, the photos that he had sent of the wolves were as shitty as you expected from the dmv and everything done.

He handed out all the various cards. "Do not lose these, or I'll kill you."

Derek was staring at the driver's license. "Does this mean we can practice driving? I want to drive Stiles to school sometimes."

Noah noticed Stiles looked very into that idea. "This weekend," he promised, "we'll see what you know." There was no way it could be worse than teaching Stiles had been.

It wasn't, it was a different sort of hell, and when they got home, he lectured Stiles about imagining his wolf as a goddamn race car driver.

But Monday, Derek drove Stiles to school in the Camaro.

Chapter Text

Noah walked into the house and could smell breakfast. "Hey," he called. "Fucking hate night shift."

"Then why were you on it?" Peter was standing there a raised brow, "I decided to read all the bylaws of the town, the rules that govern your little boy scouts, and the sheriff is to be called in, but not required to work night shifts."

"We're also not exactly a large force, and someone takes time off, I'm up to bat," he replied.

"You are in charge. If you don't use that power, how can they respect you?"

"Peter, they respect me because I don't use that power," he countered. "Now, tell me there is food for me before I go crash." He started to walk, "wait all the by-laws?"

"Yes," there was a smile. "I know the letter of the law, likely better than you. I suggest you arrest the mayor —he broke section twenty five amendment four, subsection 7."

"And that is?" Noah kinda hoped it was something useful because the man was coming for their budget, and he'd like to stop it.

"He wore slippers to walk his dog after 10pm."

Noah had to close his eyes. "I'm sorry?"

There was a shrug, "It is illegal to walk more than three paces off your property in slippers. He walked his dog to the end of the block."

"How do you know this?"

"He is being rude to you, I am helping."

Noah was honestly a little scared of Peter's idea of helping. Or a lot scared. Stiles had been writing down his lore for the wolves, what he remembered. And some was straightforward, and some was complex. And all the complex seemed to have been visited onto Peter.

"I've got this, but thank you. Do not stalk people, alright, because that is a crime I have to enforce." There was a sigh and a shrug —this one clearly being one of he disagreed with Noah, but would behave. If Derek expressed emotion with his eyebrows, Peter did so with his shoulders. And a sneer. It was good to know that Stiles had poured all the sarcasm into just one wolf. "Peter, I mean it, I will arrest you."

"Yes, yes, you are a beacon of light and law in the dark chaos of the world. Good for you. Boring, but lovely, to be so responsible."

He needed food. He went past Peter and ignored how the guy sniffed him. That's what Peter and Derek did, ever since they had had that run in the woods, they scented Stiles and Noah a lot. On his breaks he had been reading about wolves and werewolf lore to try to catch up. Noah knew he'd never catch up, he wasn't as clever as his kid, but information was useful. A hand on his arm. "Peter, I'm really tired, and hungry."

"What happened?"

Noah sighed, "domestic. She refused to press charges, said it was her fault. Wouldn't accept help."

The hand gave a squeeze that almost felt supportive, comforting. "You can't save everyone."

"I can try," Noah replied. Another of those squeezes and a nudge into the kitchen. Noah sat and Derek was there just watching Stiles. It didn't have quite the weirdness of Peter's stare, but it was intense. "Morning," he said and just got a grunt. Seemed Derek had been up long enough to run out of words. "I am starting to agree with Stiles' curse theory. How many this morning?"

"Fifty nine," Stiles said. "Egg white omelette up!"

Noah stared at the plate. It didn't look bad. It didn't look good, but honestly not bad was good enough. He ate and waved off the coffee he was offered. "I'm going to crash for about four hours, then I want a wake up. Done night shift. Need to get back on regular sleep cycle." He paused, "what day is it?"

"Thursday," Stiles said. Noah looked at the clock, pointedly. "Oh right. School! I was totally going there. Now in fact."

"Oh is it pajama day like when you were in grade one?" Noah sighed. "Stiles…"

"Come on, Dad, I have no tests, no projects. And according to the online tracker, the box from Baba arrives today. It is out for delivery. Please. Please. Please."

He looked and his son was giving the most pathetic puppy eyes, and so was Derek. Peter didn't do puppy eyes, but he did give one of those damn shrugs. "Fine," he called Stiles out of school saying he was sick, and preemptively called him out for Friday too, because Stiles was going to stay up all damn night with whatever was being sent to them. "Okay, four hours," he told them. "And if the box arrives during that time. You don't open it," he pointed at Stiles. "I mean it. You wait for me."

"Of course," Stiles swore.

"And no getting frick and frack here to open it either. No the scissors slipped out of my hand, no oops I dropped this knife, box cutter, key or any other vague sharp object. No, oh the carrier service put this hole in the box I should check everything is fine." He was fairly certain that covered all the bases.

That got reluctant nods from all three of them, with a wince from Stiles so the kid had definitely been planning something. Noah went upstairs, and honestly he hated to say it but Peter maybe had a point about the night shifts. He just didn't bounce back like he used to. A pair of sweats because you didn't sleep naked when you raised a kid like Stiles and he flopped on the bed.

It wasn't long before he was asleep, and four hours came far too damn quickly. There was knocking and then sure enough Stiles was in. "It came, and it's huge. Oh my god, Dad, the box is huge! And heavy and smells really good."

Noah groaned. "Five minutes."

"I'm timing it!" was shouted and Stiles was out running. Kid would too. Noah went to the bathroom, and managed to make it down right as the boxcutter hit the tape. He cleared his throat. "What, you are here now."

Derek at least handed him coffee. Peter's eyes were not leaving the box.

Noah went over and took the boxcutter away from his kid. He looked at each side of the box, and touched the family wards, saying the old name of their people, the true family name that they had killed five generations ago to protect. The box glowed.

"Now we can open it."

"Holy shit, you just did magic!" Stiles was staring at him. "You said you didn't have any."

"And you said, I did. Also I know your cousin Jacob and he doesn't trust mail carriers, woulda put protections on it when Ma sent him to the post office with it."

"How many freaking cousins do I have?"

"Hell if I know," Noah thought about it. "Like eight or nine, maybe twelve, or fourteen? However many will be divisible by three. Family thing." He just shrugged. "My brothers and sisters liked to procreate."

Stiles was fully distracted from the box, "Dude, I barely know how many of those you have."

"Are we opening the box or what?" He took the boxcutter away from Stiles, and opened it himself. "I'll show you our family tree later." Pulled back the cardboard and there was a letter on top of ancient wrapping paper and plastic bags that had been used to fill the empty spaces. A quick read of his mother's god awful handwriting. He sighed. "Okay, most of it is for Stiles. Including condoms for when you lose that pesky virginity Stiles. Your grandmother sent you condoms."

Peter was cackling delightedly at the abject horror that Noah knew was a matching expression on both his and Stiles' faces. "There are cookies for the wolves, and —" Noah stared at the letter, the words swimming a bit. "And a box for me." He didn't say more for a moment, and appreciated how the three didn't push. "She sends her love and expects to see us all for Christmas, where I am not allowed to arrest anyone except maybe that floozy that Frank is dating for being a floozy."

Noah put the letter down and they started to dig through the box. He handed the boxes of cookies to the wolves and had to laugh when he put the cloak on Stiles. It was beautiful, but also absolutely absurd in the twenty first century. There was a note pinned to it. "Says, it will take three minutes and three seconds."

"What will?"

"Hell if I know, but let's find out." They all stood there and waited. Three minutes took forever when you were just staring. But they all saw as the cloak, the family protection for the strongest of the generation morphed into…a plaid flannel shirt. "Of course," Noah nodded.

"Nice," Stiles grinned, "good and comfy, like it's been washed a million times."

Noah shook his head a bit, laughing because at least it wasn't a Spiderman tee. He moved some more of the ancient plastic bags, and pulled out the book. "Here, the family recipe book."

Stiles took it, and Noah noticed that Peter's gaze sharpened, went hungry. He understood what power was in that book. Noah snapped his fingers and pointed at Peter, a gesture of warning. Peter barred his teeth, and Noah just pointed at the time out corner in the kitchen. A glare, but a reluctant nod. The longer they were human, the weaker those kind of threats were going to get. But luckily they retained the memories of being stuffies stuck in time out with Stiles and it haunted them. He'd use that as long as he could.

"We know how to cook the basics," Stiles said and cracked it open, the book smoke as he did so, before shadow ravens flew out and a wolf stood on the pages, howled. Peter and Derek howled in return. "What the hell?" Stiles closed the book and dropped it on the table. "What sort of recipe is that?"

"Magic," Noah replied. None of this was supposed to come to him. And it hadn't really. "It is the family grimoire, I guess. Our magic isn't linear."

"Huh?"

"It is power based, not genetically based?" Peter said, "It doesn't go to the traditional first child, it goes to whomever has the power?"

"Yup," Noah was grateful in this moment, and this moment only, how clever Peter was. "It was Ma's, and before that it was her uncle, no one in my generation was strong or well frankly not evil enough. Paulina might have been strong enough, but she slides into the dark a bit too quickly." He and Stiles had mostly forgiven her, but every year, Noah made sure to re-up the restraining order, just to be safe. "Seems Stiles is it." He sighed, "which means I'm booking a tattoo appointment for my underage kid."

"Wait, Baba was legit about that? Baba has tattoos?"

"Yeah," Noah said. "Ones of poisonous flowers all over her shoulders, so that anyone who meant harm to her would get really sick."

"I'm getting flowers?"

"No, unlikely," Noah handed Stiles the letter and pointed to the fourth paragraph. He watched Stiles read it, and read it again, brow furrowing. The letter explained that with Stiles being the third grandchild to the third grandchild of the third grandchild, that he needed to get three tattoos of three symbols each. Goddamn family wacky lore and magic bullshit. But there was no family symbol, no crest or anything, it was about what made sense to the magic user. Had to be personal and meaningful to them.

Noah was sort of terrified that Stiles was going to end up with nine wolves on him. "God, I can practically hear the gears turning, Stiles, you don't have to think of it this second, it will take a minute to get you an appointment."

"Call," Stiles said and looked at him. "I know what it is."

There were only two tattoo shops in town, and only one hadn't had health code violations. And of course he was able to get in tomorrow with the award winning artist. There were two more boxes in the large box. One for Stiles and one for him. He handed the one to Stiles who ripped it open. "These are so cool!"

He watched Stiles put on the bracelets, which were mostly carved leather, and looked good on the kid. He remembered playing with them when he was young, changing the order his mother wore them because she didn't understand that needed to change in order to protect. Noah reached out gently, and switched them about a bit. "There, like that." They felt better, stronger.

"Yeah, but you have no magic."

"Shaddit," he grumbled. "I'm going to go shower, you flip through the recipe book, see if anything catches your eye. We can go out to the woods to practice a bit."

Noah went and had a bit too hot shower, but it felt good, helped him deal with what had come in the box. But he'd have to. He stepped out, the air steamy in the room, dried off. He went to his bedroom only wearing a towel. As he walked he could feel eyes on him. He knew whose eyes they were. "Come on then," he said.

Peter followed him into the bedroom. He had realized that Peter and Derek had few issues or boundaries when it came to nudity, product of not being human and being told it was wrong, or their werewolf nature or whatever. So of course Peter wasn't averting his gaze. Noah put on underwear using the towel for cover, before tossing it aside to finish dressing. "You are hiding something," Peter said.

"Of course I am," Noah muttered, "I've mostly ignored this aspect of my family ever since I moved away. And turns out that bit me in the ass, because my kid is perhaps the strongest since the first." Peter was holding the damn box. "And if he is the spark, I'm the goddamn fire extinguisher." He opened the box, and there was his dad's watch.

Noah stared at it. "Dad was perfectly human, just love Ma with everything he had and was. God, he loved her so much, protected her so much, swear he even forgot he had kids. We could be standing in front of him, and all he would see was her. To worship her, to love her, to be ready to strike her down if her magic broke her. And now, I'm expected to protect Stiles that way. And I know, I fucking know Peter, that he could destroy the whole world, and I would never take him out."

Peter didn't say anything, just held out the watch to Noah, and Noah sighed, took it. He expected it to burn a bit as he claimed his responsibility, but it was molten hot and just like the cloak, shifted. But not just shifted —broke.

Noah stared as what had once been a watch, turned into three keychains, all different Star Wars crafts.

"I think I'll claim the Death Star," Peter said. "I'll take the A wing to Derek. I know you enjoy the X wing."

"Uh-huh," Noah said.

"You aren't alone in protecting him." Noah agreed and Peter left. He stared at the stupid keychain that looked like you got it out of a machine at the grocery store. The watch had been a damned Rolex.

This was better.

A little bit later, he drove Stiles out to the woods. "I'll follow you."

They walked through the woods and ended up in small clearing, and even Noah could feel the magic pouring off the tree.

"Hey," Stiles waved at the tree, "how's it going? I'm Stiles. Nice to meet you magic tree. You uh woke up or I woke up, or we did a thing and made wolves, that's kinda cool isn't it?" He watched his son go hug the tree and a few leaves fell on his head. "We're here to practice my mojo. That cool with you?"

More leaves.

"Hey Dad the tree wants to say hello. It's name is Nemeton. Nice to know I'm not the only kid given a bullshit name by their parents."

Great, his son was bonding with a magic tree. Noah went closer and gave a bit of a bow, before he pressed a hand to the bark. It was warmer than a tree should be, and a couple of his aches disappeared. The knee that was a bit janky, the finger that was always just a bit numb from being caught in a door. "Thanks," he said softly. He sank down, and sat on the grass, leaned his back against the tree. "Okay, kid. Everything you've ever made, has been by accident. Try to make something on purpose." He remembered watching his siblings learn magic from their Ma the big lectures and theories, and hours of talking when he just wanted to play sports.

He could give Stiles those lessons. Noah just grinned, "Bet you can't."

"Oh I can," Stiles muttered, immediately rising to the challenge. "You just watch me," he added and pushed up the sleeves of the flannel shirt. Nothing happened for a good long while.

"Believe," Noah whispered. He watched as out of nowhere a robin appeared in Stiles' hand. It chirped and stared at Stiles before it flew away.

Stiles fell to the ground, giggling hysterically. "I made a bird. I flipped you the bird, Dad."

Noah had to smirk a bit at that. He swore with the way the branches shook, the tree was laughing too. Stiles tried again, but was clearly worn out. The keychain in his pocket warmed up a bit, let him know Stiles was pushing too hard. Noah stood and pulled Stiles into a hug. "Come on, let's go get ice cream."

"I can do more," Stiles protested.

"Sure, but also tomorrow you are getted tatted up and that is going to be a lot, need your rest."

"Okay," Stiles breathed out, and slumped a bit. "Some rocky road would be great. You can have the vanilla frozen yoghurt."

"Gee thanks," Noah shoved Stiles a bit, and they enjoyed their cones, even brought back treats for the wolves. Who both were on Stiles, breathing him in, scenting him. Guess the magic was stronger in him, changing his scent a bit.

Noah ignored it all, and decided to go watch t.v.

The next day when he woke up, it was only Peter downstairs. He had been sketching, paper dolls of Stiles. "What's that for?" Noah sat with some coffee.

"For the tattoo placement," Peter said. "His back is the obvious place, but also if he were ever stolen, beaten or tortured, good shot he is hung up shirtless, the tattoos cut or such."

Noah nodded, "true. But also a tattoo along the spine carries more power. Your spine holds you up, so protections along it help."

"I believe it is called a tramp stamp. Low enough to be partially protected by pants. Kidnappers like to leave pants on unless they are rapists as well."

Noah nodded. "Same vein, inner thighs? I had been thinking inside of arms, but that would hurt like a bitch."

"Thighs have femoral arteries, connection the heart, and also thighs wrap around people during sex, more connections."

Noah froze, "and are we thinking about Stiles and thighs and sex for a reason?"

"Not a personal one, I assure you," Peter was sketching onto the paper. "He is too many toos for me to be interested in that way."

"Do you have interests in that way?" It was fascinating to find out just how human the stuffies were becoming. And if hunger and laughter, and bodily funtions were all there, it made sense that arousal would be there.

"When I wake up my cock is hard, it is interesting, but I have yet to decide if I am interested in that interesting."

"Fair," Noah agreed. "Need breakfast?" There was the shrug that was the yes shrug, and he made them both some toast and fresh fruit on the side.

"I am interested in alcohol, but I won't buy any if you don't want it in the house."

"One bottle, and you keep it hidden. You can drink in front of me, but do not leave the bottle just about," Noah said firmly. There was a nod of agreement and Noah thought about it. "He needs more tattoos than just protection ones. If he is taken, and has those three specific ones, they'll know they carry power. More protects. Hides in plain sight."

"Agreed." Peter sketched in a few more places. "This cannot all be done in one sitting. Take some of our money, ink costs a fortune."

"We're fine."

"I am serious. Whatever Stiles did, our wallets do not empty. Whatever we spend in a day, just appears back in place."

Noah really didn't want to think about the ramifications of that. But he would take the money because yeah, they didn't have the most.

Stiles for once woke up on his own, very excited about the tattoos, and Noah was sure his kid was going to be getting a lower back tattoo of howling wolves. He would not judge, especially since he technically had his badge on his ass.

It took a lot to convince Derek that he didn't need to be there to protect Stiles, and honestly he was anticipating the man showing up and having to be kicked out. At the tattoo shop they met with some resistance, them trying to suggest Stiles would regret these choices and too lenient parents which was funny considering that Stiles always called him too strict.

Finally though he signed all the permission forms and explained where the tattoos would go. The artist explained that it would be multiple visits which fine. He thought of the refilling wallets, and was grateful.

"So what are we getting?" the artist asked Stiles. "I would suggest against names."

"I know that, and it wouldn't be right." Stiles handed over a folded piece of paper. "This is my rough design."

"Huh, actually not bad."

At the angle he was at, he couldn't quite see it.

"Give me half an hour," the artist said. "Bakery two doors down."

They went and had a snack, and when they returned, Noah finally saw the design. "Really?"

Stiles grinned, "you've always said you can see my gears turning, now well, you actually can." Noah stared at the gears and cogs, three large gears and a few cogs to help them move along. It was industrial, and almost brutal —oddly elegant too though, black with bronze and a bit of green. Like moss growing over metal.

"Kid, you sure, this will hurt like hell."

"Dude, look at me, I have been bully beat up my whole life, trust me won't hurt."

"This will take about three hours," was warned.

Stiles just lay down where he was told and Noah sat by his head, with a book. Stiles occasionally tapped his dad's leg and Noah would read out loud, stop when there was another leg tap. A couple times he held Stiles's hand when the needle passed over thin skin. But not a single whimper or tear.

When it was done it was beautiful.

They left with it covered in plastic, a list of instructions and an appointment for the next tattoo in a few weeks.

The next morning though Noah was awoken by shouting from Stiles' room. He burst in and aimed the gun at Derek, who just pointed at Stiles in front of the mirror.

Noah stared at the perfectly healed back tattoo, and saw also the gears on the inside of Stiles' thighs. The family protections in place. There were also the moon phases on inside both biceps. And yes a wolf howling just above each hip bone because of course. On the inside of the wrists on the left side a seahorse, on the right an owl. He knew those were for he and Claudia.

"How are you going to explain this in the locker room?" Noah had to ask. He was staring at Stiles' feet which both had abstract swirls that he knew were tree roots. "Thank christ, we aren't the branch of the family that has to get piercings."

"I vote we go with repressed trauma and rebellion?" Stiles offered.

It was about all they had.

He turned and stared because he heard a noise behind him, Derek was staring a bit too intently at the gears on Stiles' back. He stepped in Derek's field of vision. A firm shake of his head. Derek hunched in a bit, but was also clearly trying to look at Stiles. "Go bug your uncle," he said and nudged Derek out of the room. Closed the door, in the guy's face.

Stiles was just staring at all the tattoos that had appeared overnight.

"You can reject the magic you know, if it is too much," he had to say it, just once.

"Uh, hell no! This is so awesome!" Stiles paused, "don't you think it's awesome?"

Noah nodded, "it's super awesome," he agreed. He went and hugged Stiles, returned the gun to the lock box, sat on the edge of the bed, and played with the X-wing keychain.

"Shit, Claudia, I'm fucking terrified," he whispered. He couldn't do magic, not really, not make it, but there was a couple things he could do. He picked up his phone and dialed, "Hey Paulina, yeah yeah, no I still haven't forgiven you, yeah you are still evil, but how the hell do I ward the house and Stiles' jeep?"

Chapter Text

Stiles was happy that he was a kid with a long history of wearing layers to school. No one looked twice at his plaid shirt even though it was warm out. He had the sleeves pushed up a bit, because he liked looking at the dozen leather and wood bracelets that he now wore, six on each side.

He thought of how his dad had moved a couple around this morning, how the man insisted he didn't have the magic the rest of the family did. But it seemed if it was to protect, he just had an odd sense about it. Stiles had called his grandmother and after a good twenty minutes of her talking shade about half his cousins, she told him that his dad had always done that for her, ever since he had been a toddler, just insisted she was putting them on in the wrong order and insisting she fix it.

That sometimes after his dad had moved to the west coast, she'd get a phone call at a random time of him just saying, dammit Ma crosshatch, then beads, then cuff, with nothing else before he would hang up. Stiles had asked her a few questions about his magic and she had answered, and then he asked the one that he couldn't ask his dad.

"Baba, should I be scared of my magic?"

"No, sweet boy, not you," she reassured, "magic feeds on our core. Your Aunt Paulina sometimes just go a little evil because at her core, she's a bitch." Stiles had actually choked on his spit at his grandmother saying that. "Your core strong, good, like roots of tree. You'll be fine. But sweet boy, when there is good, there is bad. Like your movies with the pew pew and robots. Dark side and light side. You light side, but it means the dark side will try to corrupt."

"How do I stop that?" Stiles asked, scared.

"No, no, you no worry. Your dad will watch you, like your Zeta watched me. With the watch."

"He didn't get a watch."

"Interesting. Anything new he carry?"

Stiles thought about it. "Huh, they all have Star Wars key chains now?"

A mad cackle. "You no go dark side, too much love. Now now, I buy right size condoms? I bet your man when you get one, need the extra large. I had your cousin, Melly, scry. Soon sweet boy, no more virgin!"

Stiles closed his eyes. "And I gotta go, Baba. And forget you ever said that."

"Have fun when your tattoos start moving!"

"They are going to do what now?" Stiles shrieked, but of course she hung up. But he had been loud enough his dad had come in, and Stiles just pointed to a corner, said spider. He melted a bit as his dad tried to see it to kill it, but shrugged when came up with nothing. He thought about asking his dad a few more questions, but it was better to pace those out.

The magic freaked his dad out and he wanted to take it easy on the guy, he was having to cope with a lot.

When Stiles came back from the bathroom, Derek was already in the bed. Stiles climbed over him to get on his side. Derek insisted he belonged between Stiles and the door, which was funny because with the angle of the bed there was no closer to the door. But not like he could move Derek.

Stiles lay there. "So what do you think of the tattoos?"

"What do you think of the tattoos?"

Stiles huffed, "I think they are freaking sweet."

"The wolves are a bit much."

"Yeah, okay, sorry I got you on me," Stiles was offended.

"I just mean that it is howling heads, no legs we can't run around on you, if we don't have legs. Just get to sit on your hips and go awwoo. Not fun."

Stiles snorted at that. "Okay, fair point. And also what?"

"You have magic tattoos. You think they are actually going to stay still? You can't stay still."

"That's what my grandmother suggested. Wonder if hers moved. Scared to ask my dad."

"Why?"

"Because he ran away from all of this and here I am forcing him to confront the magic he wanted to ignore. He has to deal with my stuffed animals coming to life, which means he's also had to do a lot of illegal stuff to keep you safe, which he was running away from his family even harder from. I don't want to ask him for more."

Arms went around him. It was still weird for Derek to hug him, and not him hold Derek. But weird wasn't bad. "I don't think you could ever ask him for too much," Derek said finally. "He loves you, more than he dislikes the crime and the magic. And it's magic Stiles. If he had truly rejected it, he wouldn't have any at all."

Stiles nodded a bit. "Derek?"

"We should sleep."

"Just one more question."

"Same as last night?"

"And the night before," Stiles agreed. Because he found himself asking it every night, needing the reassurance. "Are you okay being human?"

He waited because Derek always said something different every night but each time it was a variation of yes. Stiles was so scared one day it would be no.

"I like the way rain smells."

Stiles smiled and when he woke up in the morning, he looked at his hips and the howling wolf heads had turned into full wolves.

The bell rang and Stiles realized he had completely zoned out during history. But it was history they were all dead, it was fine. No knew information would actually happen. He went to his locker and put stuff away for during lunch. Which he hadn't brought. Woo, cafeteria food today. Stiles strolled to the cafeteria and grabbed some chicken fingers and fries because they seemed the least horrific option. He saw Scott who was waving him over.

Great, sitting with Jackson. But sitting with Scott. He slid in next to Scott. "Hey, so dude, please sit next to me in Chemistry. He is out to get me."

Scott laughed, "because of how you egg him on. And you know he won't let us sit next to each other after that sulphur incident."

"Sulpher incident?" Allison asked and Stiles launched into the story, with some dramatic hand waving, because the story was epic, but that made the bracelets all slide and jangle, wood against leather, some of the beads clacking together.

"Trying to be cool? Just makes you look stupider," Jackson said.

Lydia was staring, "no he's wearing them to cover up tattoos." His hand was grabbed and for a moment he knew what it was like to be held by Lydia. It didn't make him feel how it would have just a couple weeks ago.

Derek had really messed that up for him.

He froze as Lydia touched the bracelets, waited for her to get zapped or something, but nothing happened. Huh, interesting. But she wasn't meaning harm. They were moved and everyone saw the owl on his wrist.

"Dude, no way did your father let you get a tattoo!" Scott squeaked.

"I mean, he'd be a hypocrite if he said no, considering he's got one." Camping trips meant you saw everyone's everything, and he had seen the badge on his dad's ass. It was so dorky. "It isn't real," he said. He showed the other wrist with the seahorse. "They are those high quality temporaries that last a couple weeks." He had been thinking about these lies carefully. "Dad said, when I'm eighteen, I can get a memorial tattoo for my mom, so ordered some online stuff, see what I like, where. Big decision and all."

Scott nodded, because it was something that Stiles had mentioned before. "That's cool," Scott smiled and bumped his shoulder against Stiles', "but uhh maybe a bit too cutesy, kinda girly aren't they?"

"And what's wrong with girly?" Allison teased, and Stiles did enjoy the way that Scott flushed.

Stiles pulled his hands back, and ignored the look of curiosity that Lydia was giving him. A look that he used to want desperately and now was just vaguely interesting. Hormones were so damn stupid. "Mom loved owls."

The conversation moved on, and they didn't mean to but he was sort of pushed to the side of it, and Scott almost seemed to forget he was there. It was fine. It wasn't, but he couldn't be bothered. "I need to go," he said and dropped his tray off, food half eaten. Back to his locker, and he heard something from the bathroom.

Stiles went in and sighed when a few of the football team had a kid cornered. "Cliche much?" he said.

"Oh hey, it's our former favourite idiot," one said. "We got bored with you, don't make us decide to get interested again."

"Yeah, good times, remember them fondly. Isaac," fuck, he hoped he remembered the guy's name right. "Remember, we need to ask Harris about that chemistry make up work."

"Right," and since there was no name correction, he guessed it was Isaac. "Thanks, Stiles." Isaac tried to scoot around the jackasses who let him almost get away, before a hand shot out. Stiles didn't think, just stepped in front and that hand hit his face hard.

God, he had forgotten what meat hooks these assholes had for hands. He shook his head a bit, and froze. He could feel them. His tattoos moving on his skin. The gears were turning, like he could feel them, a thrum just under his skin.

"You want a piece too? You like being a punching bag, Stilinksi, maybe you want to be a toilet too."

Stiles wasn't sure what to do. He wished his magic was like comics magic, that he could manifest a huge fist and punch the bastard, it was technically creation. But everything he had read in the family recipe book was that no one in their family had attack magic. And honestly what he read, made him generally happy they didn't.

But right now he kinda wished he did have that.

Hands grabbed his flannel shirt and tried to drag him to the urinal, but couldn't move him. The gears were moving under his skin, but his feet were planted. And when the jock tried to pull hard, all that kinetic force seemed to bounce back on him, and the guy went flying into a stall arm landing in a toilet.

That it seemed had not been flushed. Kids these days, so unhygienic.

The buddies stormed him, but they were also just repelled back, the bathroom was a mess.

So of course a teacher burst in, and of course the jackasses all blamed Stiles, and of course Isaac agreed that he had seen Stiles fling the bullies away.

"Guess those karate lessons took a bit too well," Stiles agreed. Isaac looked so upset that he was fucking over Stiles. But he got it. If Isaac sided with Stiles, these guys would make his life hell. "Isaac just walked in, saw me kick their asses. Which really, boys, you got your ass kicked by me?" Stiles pointed and laughed. That should have them completely focused on him, and have them forget Isaac entirely.

The teacher sent Isaac off to class, and Stiles got to go to the office. Wee, been a while since he got to sit there. The secretary automatically handed him an ice pack, barely looking up from her work. Ahh, old times.

He put it to his cheek. Zoned out a bit as he waited for his dad to show up. He should be getting about two days of in school suspension.

"Well now, I see my wayward nephew is indeed wayward yet again. Tsk tsk, the sheriff's child being a troublemaker, it is just so very cliche, isn't it? But kids have to rebel, don't they?"

Stiles closed his eyes. He did not want to open them. But he did and saw Peter standing there, completely gleeful. "Hey, uhh, Uncle Peter, where's dad?"

"Your father is dealing with a robbery where there was actual shots fired, he sent me." Peter leaned against the counter, held up a letter. "A letter of permission for me to meet with the vice principal, and pick you up, or whatever it is adults are supposed to do to claim almost adults. Which really I understand these hoops for those under ten, children will follow anyone for the promise of candy and puppies. But at this age, they should be let loose to be feral."

Stiles sighed because Peter was enjoying this moment a bit too much. "I dunno, I'd follow a guy who offered me a puppy." Peter opened his mouth, a horrific gleam in his eyes and Stiles quickly added, "Uncle Peter, the vice principal is through there."

Peter raised a brow, "well come along then, I'm not discussing you, without you present."

"Oh, right," he agreed and stood. "Usually Dad just goes in, hear's how I just slipped and fell and we leave with him ranting in the car about all the ways he would kill my bullies if he didn't believe quite so much in the law."

"I like the one where he would solve the trolley problem," the secretary said still typing away.

Stiles nodded, "yeah, that's a good one." He pointed to Peter to where they needed to go and winced when Peter just walked into the office. "He's uhh kinda big on knocking?"

"I only knock on doors for my betters, and I have no betters," Peter replied, loudly and clearly enough for the vice principal to hear. "Now what has my precious nephew done? I promise to punish him very thoroughly."

Oh god, that had sounded a bit too kinky. And the way the vice principal's eyes widened, clearly it wasn't just Stiles being a horny teenager that made it sound creepy and sexual. "Corporal punishment is illegal in this state."

"Isn't it interesting that your brain immediately went there. Says a great deal about you, far more than me, if you think about it. Now then, what happened?" Peter's voice went sharper. "Because my nephew has a bruise on his cheek, and, yet, he was the only child sitting out there."

"He injured three boys in the bathroom."

"Stiles?" Peter made a face. "This Stiles, took on three guys, and won? Were they in the chess club?"

Stiles was a bit insulted, but also fair, he hadn't done much of anything it had all been the protections he now had. But he could have taken them.

"The football team," the vice principal said. He looked at Stiles, and clearly was taking a moment because it was absurd that Stiles came out the victor of a set up like that. "There is a witness who corroborates the football players statements that Stiles was the instigator and the one who did the most damage."

"Oh I will entirely believe that Stiles instigated, but again, there is a bruise on his cheek, so I would like to know how that got there, and how it was being dealt with."

"The others involved say it was an attempt at self defence, the witness agreed." The vice principal clearly knew this was all bullshit, but also four kids word against one. "The policy for fighting is two days in school suspension."

"Fascinating. What does that mean?"

"Means I sit back there and do an essay on the evils of punching people who really deserve it," Stiles explained. "Funny though, when they used to beat the shit out of me, it was boys will be boys, and learn to suck it up. I win, and apparently the rules apply." Stiles looked at the vice principal. "Funny what athletes get away with, isn't it?" Bench warmers didn't get the same consideration as first string players.

The vice principal opened his mouth, but Peter beat him to the punch, "Oh dear, Stiles, I am sure you are mistaken," a hand on his shoulder, "a school would never condone violence. Why, it treats all its students equally, I am sure."

"Exactly," the man agreed, and Stiles could see sweat starting to glisten at the man's temples.

"Exactly," Peter smiled, "and I would never condone violence either. The sheriff, however —" Peter hummed a bit, "Now that is a man who serves and protects. With a gun. And is a crack shot. But violence is so messy. It is not like he also knows all sorts of little interesting secrets about people in town, that he keeps quiet about because it serves no good to spill. But on the other hand, he does have to protect his child. Why when I think about it, your job is also to serve and protect isn't it? The students of course, not the donations that people love to give sports teams. Why a man such as you, must want to protect every single student, because otherwise, well it would be such a shame what sort of information might be served otherwise."

Stiles had never seen someone actually go purple with rage before that was fun. "Uncle Peter, you should probably take me home and lecture me, ground me, all that stuff."

"Indeed, I must serve the rules of this fine institution. I do of course want to make it very clear though, my priority is always to protect my nephew. And if I were to find out that was not everyone's priority, I would be very disappointed." Peter smiled, and there was just a bit of a growl, "Then I would serve all sorts of interesting things. Have a good day. He will report for in school suspension right on time, tomorrow."

"I think a warning will suffice," was said grudgingly.

"Lovely," Peter held out his hand, and it got ignored. "Well, aren't we a sore loser? Stiles, it seems you should return to class, we'll talk tonight at dinner."

"Of course, Uncle Peter," Stiles smiled at him and Peter's grin was triumphant as they walked out of the office.

In class he could hear the whispers about him, and he didn't care. Shit, that had been insane watching Peter work the moment. He made notes about what he remembered of the lore he had created around Peter but it always sort had come down to cool, mean, and man of mystery. Apparently that meant jackass with a superiority complex. But honestly having one of those around could be handy.

At lacrosse practice he asked the coach if he was benched for fighting.

It was so much worse.

He stood on the field across from Jackson. "Hey, so remember all the insults were Finnstock's idea not mine." Stiles was pretty sure he was going to die. He really wished he was in his flannel, but apparently no flannel on the pitch.

Jackson was smiling a little bit too much. "Saw you looking at Lydia."

"I always look at Lydia, she is very lookable and honestly she wants people looking at her. You most of all, but still, that's her whole thing. She'd be mad if I wasn't looking. And if she's mad she probably is going to take it out on you. And I bet her strap on is huge."

Oh god, he had said that. Out loud. No protection tattoos were going to save him.

The sixth time Jackson planted him in the ground he was finally benched. "Huh, guess you didn't beat up those guys. Shit, was really hoping your were juicing, easier for you to insult people if you were on the field. Do you want to be juicing, I maybe know a guy."

"No, the sheriff's son doesn't want to do illegal substances, but thanks," Stiles gave a wave and spit out some blood. He sat there aching and wondered why the tattoos hadn't stopped Jackson. Huh, actually that was a good question.

Finally they were waved off and he tried to go change in a stall like he had at the start, but Jackson blocked the way. "Why you hiding Stilinski?"

"Not hiding," Stiles smiled. "Just need to go to the bathroom. How about you get out of my way before you end up like those football assholes."

"Those are my friends."

"Saw that coming," Stiles said. He let out a breath, "Fuck, Jackson, is this still about the swings in grade one? I'm sorry I didn't chicken out of jumping and showed you up. We were six, time to get over it."

The locker room went quiet. Shit. Stiles laughed and looked to Scott, who wasn't coming to his rescue. Awesome. Just awesome, can't upset the double date buddy after all.

Stiles squared his shoulders. Which got bumped into. "Hey, Stiles," Isaac said. "Am I still coming over to work on that chemistry make up project?" Isaac stood next to him, shaking a bit, but there.

"Yeah," Stiles agreed, "you know it. We should go."

Jackson looked at him but didn't say anything. Stiles went to his locker and didn't give a fuck anymore, changed quickly, hoped the tattoos would go unnoticed and he and Isaac hurried out of the locker room. They didn't run to the jeep, but they definitely moved with purpose. Stiles automatically drove to his house. "Oh wait, were you just helping? I can drop you at home? Sorry?"

"I do need help with chemistry," Isaac admitted, "my dad is not happy with my grade in it. Really not happy."

"Look Harris is an asshole, but a predictable one. Which means if you see the pattern, you can get a B on his tests without trying." Stiles looked at Isaac, just looked at him. Wasn't sure he had ever paid attention the guy before. "Why haven't we hung out before?"

"Because you had Scott, I have no one."

"Well that's depressing," Stiles slapped him on the shoulder. "Come on in. We have house guests, they are…unique."

He had no idea why he was bringing Isaac in when he wasn't letting Scott near them. But it felt right. "Hey," he called when he went in.

"Hey, don't you hey me," Peter said, stepping into the hallway, a pink apron on. It was frilly. He would have had to have stopped to buy that on his way home. "I had to go into the school today, to the vice principal's office! Do you know how embarrassing that is? I swear, when your father gets home —" Peter was about to tease more, but Stiles watched him clam up. Peter never shut up.

Stiles turned and Isaac was pale and shaking a bit. "Isaac?"

"It was my fault sir," Isaac said, a whisper, words almost caught in his throat, "They were going to beat me up, and Stiles got in the way. Then he did…stuff, but when we were all caught I lied to protect myself. I can - please don't call my dad."

"Kid," Peter was looking at him, "I'm a lot of things in this world, but not a rat. I don't care about your dad. Stiles?"

"Yeah, I'm okay with it," Stiles agreed swiftly.

"I don't know this one," Peter was watching Isaac. "He wasn't at the parties."

"No, we haven't hung out before." Stiles shrugged and tried to convey something to Peter, he had no clue what. "Wearing an apron like that, you cooking tonight?"

"Working my fingers to the bone for men who don't appreciate me," Peter sighed, "why, do you know how long it takes to put in an order for Wongs? I'll need a martini and mother's little helper to cope."

"Sure there, Peter. We're going to go work on chemistry."

"We'll talk later," Peter said and was giving him a look. "But want me to keep what happened today from your dad?"

"Please?" Stiles said.

"It will cost."

"Everything does," Stiles dragged Isaac up to his room. "So that was Peter. And this is Derek." He wasn't surprised to find Derek on his bed, but hey at least the guy was awake. "Derek, Isaac, we're going to do some homework, go bug Peter."

Derek stood up and went over, sniffed Isaac and there was a small growl. "Okay?" Isaac stood very still. "You a furry or something?"

"I like him, but he smells sad. Make that stop," Derek ordered.

"Will do. Go away. I want to be alone with Isaac." That got eyes flashing and shit. Wrong way to phrase it. Derek he had learned was very possessive. "We have homework, we will not cuddle or scent," he added.

Derek was reluctant and left. Stiles closed the door and could hear the wolf settle outside the door, "Dramawolf," he whispered and there was a kick to the door.

"This place is weirder than you expect from the town sheriff."

"You have no idea," Stiles said, "Okay so let's talk acid and base." Studying went well, and Isaac was funny once he lightened up.

There was a knock on the door and he was told food was there. "I should go," Isaac said.

"Peter probably ordered plenty."

"No, my dad insists we eat dinner together. But thanks. For. Thanks," Isaac said. He ran out and Stiles slowly followed down. His dad was holding the door, and looking after where Isaac disappeared.

"Hey," Stiles said. His dad gave him a look. "I can explain?"

"Explain over sweet and sour pork." His dad hooked an arm around his neck. "Because I have people on the inside and we are going to have a conversation about Uncle Peter."

Stiles groaned, "I'm screwed. Do the tattoos protect me from grounding?"

"Guess we're going to find out."

They in fact, did not.

Chapter Text

Stiles stared at his ceiling or where his ceiling was, the room was dark and it was cloudy out so it was more of an awareness that he was looking up at the ceiling than truly seeing the ceiling itself. Last night of being grounded. Which meant tomorrow night, Derek would be back in his bed. That had been especially mean on his dad's part. Three nights no Derek in his bed, or a week of no t.v. or phone. Derek had said it was fine.

Turned out not so fine, because this had actually hurt worse. After the first night, he had asked his dad if he could switch, he'd take two weeks no t.v. to have Derek back. That had just gotten a smirk and the information that clearly the punishment was working.

His dad was a cruel man. Stiles had pointed out that Peter had been a part of all of this and should be punished too. There had been an absolutely terrifying smile where his dad had just said that he was working on it. And honestly even Peter had flinched a bit at that smile, so yeah, whatever was coming for him was going to be bad.

That was something but it didn't help that there was no Derek in his bed.

He ran his hand over his stomach, and felt something roll against it. His Derek tattoo rubbing into the pets he was giving. Stiles hoped that Derek could feel it. He ran his hand up and down his torso and realized something.

He clued into the benefit of being alone. And going to stay alone because his dad had found a way to rig the room so Derek couldn't sneak in. Bastard dad with his solemn face saying he knew he could trust them to behave and respect the punishment because what Peter and Stiles did could have backfired and he knew Derek never wanted to see them hurt.

Bastard, playing on Derek's feelings of responsibility.

But right now, Stiles was alone and going to stay alone, and he had a dick that had only been getting attention in the shower and not very much because four people one shower meant no running out the hot water. Stiles shoved his pajamas down, and shivered a bit as the cool air reached sensitive skin. He wasn't magically hard right away, because hey air wasn't a turn on, but he also knew he hadn't exactly been self loving at the same rate as before and his balls were not used to this much inactivity.

Stiles could tease or he could feel good. He licked his palm and grabbed his dick. Fuck it felt good to touch himself when it wasn't to make sure the piss stream hit the bowl. He liked his dick, he was pretty sure it was a good dick. You couldn't spend as much time in locker rooms as he did and not see comparisons. He thought he stacked up decently all in all. Top half anyways, which was enough for him.

Also, and look he hadn't looked that much, but you know, he was bigger than Scott. Mister got ripped and got cool was decently average from what he had glanced, and Stiles was just a bit more than that.

Life brought you small victories sometimes.

But no thinking about Scott during happy dick time. Scott was a boner killer, not a boner riser.

He usually pictured porn actors, sometimes Lydia, but also that got awkward because his dad was always so big on telling him that sex was a partnership even if it was just one night and Lydia hadn't agreed to a partnership since that one spanish project in grade eight, so when he pictured her during happy take care of Stiles time, he always felt guilty the next day and asked if they were cool. Which she usually ignored, so like yeah, that got weird.

Which should make picturing Derek weird, mainly because he sometimes pictured guys yes but that was sort of a newer thing; he had always known he liked both, but generally when jerking off he picture boobs ninety percent of the time. But now he knew what it felt like to be tucked against a strong, warm, and alll sorts of gorgeous body. So many he was picturing Derek, and should find it weird, but mostly was finding it really hot.

He kinda wanted Derek to be watching him doing this, because he loved how intense Derek's stare got, the way he focused his eyes on Stiles like nothing else in the world existed. That maybe Derek would reach out, but a hand on Stiles' thigh, squeeze. Not reach for Stiles' cock, not yet, just sort of anchor Stiles as Stiles stroked himself.

It would be one of the times where Derek uses more than two words, and they are all nice words, sexy words, because he bet that Derek could say porny stuff without it sounding too gross or weird. He didn't want any pet names though, just wanted the way that Derek said Stiles, when he was happy. That'd be good.

Derek would open the fly of his pants, start to jerk off too, the other hand never not touching Stiles but also never touching Stiles where Stiles really wanted Derek to touch.

Stiles moaned a bit as he pictured it. His cock started to leak, and yeah he knew this wouldn't last forever, but he was also keyed up enough that maybe he'd get a round two in before he fell asleep. He pictured Derek moaning, those pretty lips letting out a gasp, a feral whine.

Stiles wondered if he'd be good at sucking dick. Himself or Derek, he wasn't sure which he, that he meant. He put a couple fingers in his mouth and sucked them. He didn't choke so that was good, it didn't feel sexy but also fingers were not a dick. He pressed the wet fingers a bit against himself, but not in. He hadn't gone as far as penetration yet when jerking off, mainly because he was pretty sure he wanted lube for that and it was not easy to buy lube in town when you were the sheriff's kid.

He had been reading up on how in war soldiers used vaseline and that was a legit regular purchase but he never actually remembered to buy it, because who really needed to buy vaseline? And regular lotion he sort of forgot he was supposed to be doing fun touches and just moisturized his skin.

Stiles groaned because he was getting distracted with a thought spiral, and forced himself back to thoughts of Derek. His dick which had started to soften, got hard again quickly, and his brain supplied as much as it could imagine of Derek holding him, Stiles leaning against Derek as Stiles jerked off. Derek getting off on Stiles just rubbing against him.

Stiles moaned and arched into his palm, and it was all over. He collapsed back down on the bed, and sighed happily. A yawn and a stare at his hand. He was lazy and the sheets needed changing anyways. He wiped his hand on it and pulled up the pajama pants. Stiles could live with the sticky. He was too mellow and would let that be an annoyance for future him.

He rolled over, snuggled into his blankets, content with the world and promising himself a morning session when he woke up. He hoped he dreamed of Derek.

Stiles did.

An ugly, terrifying dream, with Derek going feral and hunting him, blood everywhere, the magic tree cut down, oozing black towards Stiles. He had to choose, a gone mad Derek, or whatever was in that noxious black that wanted to claim him. He tried to call of help, only no sound came out of him, but he then was in the hospital, his mom hurting him, his dad sitting in the corner watching it instead of stopping it, a bottle in his hand, uncaring just staring at them.

"Dad," he managed to choke out. "Help?"

"Why?" His dad was looking at him, "I'm supposed to kill you."

"What?" Stiles looked at him, lost. "Dad."

A slug of booze and a shrug, "don't even have them on in the right order."

Stiles looked down at his wrists and the bracelets where there, all knotted up and they began to travel and bind him, choke him, the way his mother was. "Save me," he begged. "Please, save me."

He heard a roar in the distance and the lights in the hospital flickered.

He didn't know if he should run to or from that roar.

It wasn't a roar, it was a howl.

And if he was going to die, he was choosing how to do it. Stiles blinked and he was in the middle of an empty road. At the end of it was a massive black wolf, the street lights slowly began to die one by one. All that was left was one near him, and one by the wolf.

There was a snarl, he could see blood on the wolf's mouth. There was a corpse near the wolf and he just knew it was his dad. They stared at each other, wolf and boy, their breath visible even in the almost dark. The light by the wolf flickered out and there was a low growl, one that made Stiles hurt.

He should run away. He was going to die.

But he could goddamn choose. Stiles screamed, finally making a clear noise and he didn't run from; as the last street light went out he ran to his fate.

"Stiles!" was shouted and he opened his eyes. Derek was there cupping his face. "Stiles," again.

"Hey, we'll get in trouble if you are in here," Stiles said trying to smile and just began to sob. "Why did you kill me Derek?"

"I didn't, it was a dream," Derek said. Stiles found himself held tightly. "I saved you."

Stiles couldn't answer, just gasped and sobbed against Derek's chest. There was a rumble, like Derek was trying to soothe the way a cat would purr against an injury. It helped a bit, Stiles slowly calmed down. He didn't understand though when he was picked up and taken downstairs.

"Your dad said I couldn't sleep in your room, this isn't your room." Derek muttered as he lay on the couch and put Stiles on top of him. An ancient blanket, crocheted by his Baba was pulled over top them, and Derek was holding him, clearly no intention of letting go. "I have you."

"I jerked off and pictured you. I'm sorry."

"Okay?"

"Well, that might have been bad, because I pictured you doing things and based on how you talk about porn, I don't know if you have much interest in that sort of thing."

"I don't get porn at all," Derek said, "they are loud and it seems mean and like it hurts. Why are you screaming that much if it is supposed to be fun?"

Honestly it was a fair point, it did get kinda loud in porn. "I don't know," was what he offered, "but it's okay to not want any of that."

"Good," Derek agreed. "I do not want that. I want what your mom and dad did."

Stiles froze, confused, and potentially grossed out because what? "What do you mean? Do you mean you like only girls?"

"No," there was a huff and a bit of squirming under him. "I don't want anyone but you."

Stiles was not going to deal with that sentence at the moment. Because it was arousing and awesome. But also maybe not good, because what if Derek only liked Stiles like that because of Stiles making the guy. Did it ruin free will? It was too much to think about at two am, so he was ignoring that part. "What do you mean about Mom and Dad?"

"You didn't leave me downstairs as much as everyone else," Derek said quietly. "But sometimes you wanted Cora or Peter and would leave me down on the couch to guard the house."

"Yeah," Stiles remembered how serious he would be about Derek keeping watch ocassionally.

"Your parents would be tidying or folding laundry, sometimes watching a movie. Talking. They talked about you a lot, it was good." Derek was clearly lost in the memories. "And one of them would smile, and say, I think he is really out. A hand would reach out, and they would hug, kiss."

"That's sweet," Stiles liked that memory. And if that was all Derek was interested in, Stiles could be on board with that. If there was ever anything to be on board with. Not that there would be because again he wasn't sure about the ethics of sex and romance with a guy who had only been a guy a few weeks that you made.

"It was, they liked the recliner best, and your mom would shimmy out of her underwear, leaving her shift dress or nightgown on, just in case you came downstairs," Derek continued, "and your dad didn't care that he couldn't see all of her, because he saw her face and called her beautiful. He looked at her like she was…everything. Touched her over top the fabric and she would laugh, a quiet thing, a gasp that was even quieter."

"Huh?" Stiles squeaked. "What?" Oh god.

Derek nodded, "it was all quiet, and sure, and nice? They liked each other, they weren't yelling or looking like they hurt each other. The hugged the whole time they were doing the moving up and down and saying nice things. I want that version, not your videos version."

Stiles was torn because Derek was talking about parent sex, but also, it made him happy that his parents had been in love, and it sounded kinda nice. "Okay, but maybe they were uhhh…" how did he even have this conversation? Because maybe Derek had misunderstood what was happening. He had been a stuffie after all.

"Your dad liked going down on your mom a lot. She would sit in the chair and he would kneel and push up the fabric and she would hold his hair, not let him move until she did the spasm that looks like it hurts but clearly feels amazing and then you collapse thing."

Derek had not misunderstood.

This was the worst conversation ever.

"I want us to do that. But your bed, not the chair, that was your parents place."

"Oh god, I sit in that chair sometimes." Stiles winced, he sometimes napped in his parents booty call chair. Was it a booty call when you were married? He was going to hell.

But also, Derek wanted to go down on him, make him come while doing that. Which was incredibly interesting thoughts. It was all a mess and he was exhausted.

"Sleep now, see if we get in trouble in the morning," Stiles said after probably a few too many minutes of quiet.

"Good night, Stiles."

But since he had Derek back, he had to ask, "are you happy I accidentally made you human?"

"I like how your weight presses down on me, when we sleep like this."

That was a really fucking great answer.

Noah sat on the top step as he listened to the awkward and lovely conversation that Stiles and Derek were having. It made him remember so many things, good memories, happy memories that made him sad. It would be interesting to watch Derek and Stiles navigate what they would be, and he'd support it, however it all came out.

He had been going downstairs to get a drink of juice and wish it was whisky because it seemed to be a night for shitty dreams for Stilinski men. Noah's brain had kept it simple, every room he walked into had a dead Stiles in it. A labyrinth, that he had no choice but to move through, the wall always closing in behind him, and each corner, each door he walked through, a dead son. Lots of different ways, but he never saw a murderer, a shadow, a reason why or how.

Just dead.

Noah had woken just as he opened a door where he knew he would have caught the bastard killing his kid. He also knew he would have seen himself standing over his son's corpse.

He nodded to himself and stood up, juice wouldn't help anyways, and Stiles and Derek didn't need him making noise down there. In the morning he'd let Stiles sneak back to bed, feel like he had gotten away with something, the punishment over.

Noah went back to his room and wasn't surprised to find Peter on his bed.

"The children all tucked up?" Peter asked, eyebrow raised.

"Feeling domestic are we?"

"I could smell the fear from both you, ruins one's sleep." Peter laced his fingers together over his stomach. "I'd ask if you want to talk about it, but I know you'd say it was nothing."

"You're shirtless." He had seen it before, when he had taken them out to run, but in the house, Peter tended to be covered up. Noah had turned his lamp on when he got up, and it shone on the burned skin of Peter's shoulder. He sat on the edge of his own bed, feeling like an intruder, a guest in what was actually Peter's space. "Does it hurt?"

"No," Peter shrugged, "the skin feels tight sometimes, the shoulder stuck in something that doesn't want to move, but not hurt. Interesting that you and Stiles both had nightmares. And around the same time."

"Happens," Noah dismissed.

"The magic?"

Noah looked at him. "I don't want to talk about it." He went to the window, looked out on their backyard. "There are worst costs," he said finally. "Ma had hideous nightmares, Paulina when she was a teen would tear her sheets apart with her nails. He's always had shitty dreams, I should have realized."

"Sometimes a nightmare is just a nightmare."

"And sometimes life is just shitty and it has nothing to do with magic. But when you open one door, sometimes a whole bunch open." Noah sighed and found himself moving to the bed. "You know Derek is hugging it better for Stiles." He hoped the hint would be caught.

"Yes, well, Derek is a sap and an idiot for your son." Peter didn't move from the centre of the bed, didn't make the most room. Not when it was a double, he had downsized from the queen he had shared with Claudia. They stared at each other.

Noah climbed onto the bed, and only then did Peter scoot over. And not very far. His hip brushed against the pillow that Noah used. Noah rested his head there, pushed his face up against the sweatpants that Peter was wearing.

He was honestly surprised it was sweats and not silk pajamas.

He realized after a moment they were in fact his sweatpants. "Stealing my clothes?" he asked as he closed his eyes, felt the tension drain.

"I prefer to sleep naked, but didn't think you'd want to walk back in on that in your bed."

For a moment, Noah pictured it. Easy to do since he had seen the man naked. He pictured it intently and couldn't say if he wanted it or not. He was just too tired. "Why don't his tattoos protect him from nightmares? They should." It was something that had always bothered him about the magic, another reason he had always been grateful it was weak in him.

"Because not even magic guardians can protect you from yourself," Peter said. "That is a horror you must contend with alone."

"Fuck that, I will protect my kid, even from himself if I have to," Noah snarled, almost growled like how he had heard Peter and Derek do. That got a faint laugh. And a hand in his hair.

"I have no doubt you and Derek will be fierce in protecting Stiles."

"Like you wouldn't, still bit pissed about you waltzing into the school and threatening people."

"It was a conversation, an interesting one."

"One I got an earful about," Noah reminded him. "We have to be careful, Peter."

"I'm clever, I don't need to be careful."

Noah snorted at that. "Be careful Peter, I can be clever too."

"I am deeply concerned about the most moral man in town being clever."

Noah decided fuck it and put his head on Peter's thigh, threw an arm across, a leg too for good measure. "You should be." That hand stroked his hair. "Can you be an asshole to any nightmares that try to show up again?"

"I think I can manage that. For you."

In the morning he was refreshed and pretended to know nothing about Stiles and Derek. He lifted the punishment, went to work, feeling better than he should have after so little sleep. And he got a phone call that made him positively giddy.

Dinner that night the four of them sat together. "Now then a toast to Stiles' punishment being over." Glasses were raised. "And a toast to Peter's just beginning."

Stiles looked gleeful, "ohhh, you did something didn't you Daddio, didn't you?"

"Well I think it is wonderful that Peter cares so much about your scholastic endeavours and your time at school, that he should take part."

"What?" Peter's tone was the flatest that he had ever heard.

"Janice got a part time job and there was an opening. Peter I volunteered you. You are now the secretary of the booster club for the school. They meet every two weeks, lots to do at the school you know, to support the teams and clubs."

Derek nodded politely and clearly excused himself so as to not laugh at his uncle.

Stiles just stayed to laugh directly in Peter's face.

"I see," Peter raised his glass in salute to Noah and his eyes promised revenge.

Noah had to admit, at least to himself, he was looking forward to what that might be.

Chapter Text

Stiles sat at the kitchen table with Isaac. He ignored the way that Derek was alternating glaring at them but also looking sad. Because the eyebrows were going on a hell of a journey right now. Eventually though he went back to what seemed like a really intense grocery list making. Stiles wasn't sure they had ever actually made a grocery list since his mom had died. But whatever, if Derek needed to be a weirdo, he could be a weirdo.

"Right, so Harris is being extra Harris-y right now, which means we need to be careful about our hypothesis and all that." Isaac nodded and was taking a ton of notes. He noticed that Isaac seemed to have bitten at hangnails or something a lot, because a couple of his fingers were bloody. He usually tried to pair with Scott on projects, but Isaac had been sitting there, looking tense and he had found himself going over, asking to partner up. Scott had looked shocked but he ended up with Danny, he'd be fine.

They were slowly getting Isaac's grade up and that seemed really important to the guy. They were gunning for a B. Stiles could get an A but Isaac was really bad at chemistry. Stiles thought about offering to do it all himself, but Isaac really wanted to help, so yeah, based on how this was going, a B would be great. They made their notes and plans for the experiment. It was just to make rock candy, but they were the team that had to add food dyes natural and chemical and see how it changed the results.

He felt that the natural dyes would actually mess it up more than the chemical ones, and on the weekend they'd find out. "You staying for dinner? My dad is going to be bringing home the stuff to make chili."

"Your dad?" Isaac froze a bit. "He has a gun."

"Yeah? He's the sheriff. Are you into guns?" He couldn't quite picture. "Dad takes me to the range once a month, you could come?"

"Stiles," Derek growled and gave him a look.

"What?" Stiles rolled his eyes because Derek was being weird about Isaac. But this wasn't about Isaac, it was the fact that on his wrist the owl had its feathers ruffled and was flapping its wings. Shit, that tattoo tended to not move, why was it moving? Luckily Isaac didn't seem to notice because he was busy packing stuff up.

"I need to get home. But Saturday at nine for the project?"

"Dude nine? I sleep until ten on Saturdays."

"My dad insists I clean the house Saturday afternoons," Isaac looked a bit panicked, which god did Stiles understand, he was on laundry this weekend and Peter's rules for his clothes were a goddamn nightmare. "I can't not do that."

"Okay, nine it is then," Stiles nodded. "Sure you don't want to stay for chili."

"No, your dad is - no," Isaac shook his head. "Bye." Isaac was gone.

"That was weird." Stiles looked at Derek, "that was weird right?"

There was a shrug, "He is hiding something. Can smell it. And not like when you hide porn, or that you stayed up too late reading. Or that you tried a magic spell you found online and made all your underwear pink."

"Hey," Stiles frowned, "I'm not hiding it because it's pink, but because it changed it all to briefs. I hate briefs. They are so tight."

"I like the tight underwear on you."

Stiles was not responding to that. But maybe he'd see about buying some boxer briefs. To compare. All scientific like. "Anyways, what hiding? And yeah, no more online spells because it also gave me a wicked headache and I didn't shit for like three days. Family cookbook or nothing." And honestly the family book wasn't much better. It had a lot that was so close to where Stiles' magic felt right, but also always just a bit off. Lego piece you forced together but always rested a bit crooked.

He could feel a bit of an itch under his skin. "Hey, want to go out to the tree tomorrow after lacrosse practice? You can run about, I can pretend I can do magic."

That got a nod. Then more furious writing on the grocery list, it was sort of fascinating to watch. Especially because grumbles joined the list. Eventually though the paper was torn off and Derek was giving him an intense look. "After we run tomorrow, we can grab a bite to eat and then do the grocery shopping."

"Sure, what had you all focused on it?"

"You want your dad to be healthy. We use a lot of prepackaged spice mixes they are high in sodium. If we make our own you can control that. But you have garlic, pepper, and six kinds of paprika. And nothing else."

Stiles had to laugh at that, because damn the heritage really shone through sometimes. But it was also sweet that Derek was doing that and had clearly gone online and looked stuff up. "Woods, Food, Grocery, sounds like a date," Stiles agreed and looked at his homework, "ugh why poems?" He cursed a bit and settled in to finish the work.

Next day dragged forever, he just wanted to get to the tree already. At practice, he maybe tripped and fell so he had to go to the nurse, who said he was fine but also the coach wasn't really expecting him back…so Stiles headed home.

Derek was waiting and there was no Peter. "Where is he? Did he want to come along?"

"He is busy stalking your father."

Stiles closed his eyes. "Do I want to know why?" There were eyebrows that suggested he did not. He knew at home Peter was constantly watching his dad, and he had been real pissed when his dad came home a bit banged up from stopping a bar brawl. Probably was tied to that, but honestly he did not want to deal with it, so he was going to ignore it.

"Can we go?" Derek looked eager and Stiles was too.

They took the Jeep because the grocery list was long and the Camaro trunk was not big. At the path they headed in and Stiles gave Derek a look that he needed to wait until they were at the dang tree before he shifted. But the second they were in the clearing, clothes were thrown at him and Derek was running and bouncing around. Stiles laughed and he could feel the delight of the Nemeton as well.

Derek was circling the tree, making all sorts of happy growls and rumbles at it, even licked it before he took off running into the woods.

"Not too far," Stiles shouted. There was an answering noise that he had no idea was agreement or fuck off, I'm a wolf right now. But it was fine, Derek was a good boy, he wouldn't go too far. Stiles went to the tree and hugged it. He was a tree hugger now. But they were magic pals, magic broskis together. "Wait, are you a boy tree, or a girl tree, or a nonbinary tree?"

It was a tree that was laughing at him, that's what it was. But he sort of felt a psychic fist bump which felt very dude. "Alright," he laughed a bit. "So let's do some magic." He rolled up the sleeves of the flannel and the bracelets clacked and jangled a bit.

He looked at the owl and seahorse on his wrists and frowned. "Why did my magic put you apart? You should be together." He just realized it was odd that the representations of his parents were separate. He put his wrists together and watched. The seahorse blinked lazily and sort of swam around his wrist. The owl turned its head and watched the swimming. "Go on, say hi," he encouraged them. "Swim or fly over." He pressed skin as close together as he could, sure they would run to meet each other, it was his mom and dad, after all.

But the seahorse swam and the owl watched and when the owl started to shake out its wings, one of the wolves ran down his arm and snarled at the owl. The owl looked at the wolf and ruffled its feathers but didn't move.

"Hey, dude, don't be rude, you have the other wolf to play with, let them hang." He looked at his wrist, "come on, Dad symbol, swim to Mom." But the seahorse just settled back in place a few bubbles of air circling up and popping when they reached his elbow. "Don't you want to be together?" Stiles felt his lip wobble. He leaned back against the tree. The wolf went back up his sleeve and was down the other arm. He watched as it approached slowly, almost stalking the seahorse. Then it just sort of stopped, lay down. Stiles saw the seahorse wrap their tails together.

He looked over at the owl, who seemed pleased and was clearly going to sleep. He didn't get it, or well he did, but he didn't really want to, so he ignored it. Stiles leaned against the tree and looked out at the clearing. "I create," he said softly. "I craft and design and imagine. I don't protect or destroy. I don't transform. I am existence. I am a really really shitty and tiny god. So what can I create?"

Stiles just held open his hands and drew from himself, from the tree, and trusted the universe or the magic, or whatever it was that was in him.

It smelled sweet and his hands were full. He looked down and laughed. It was two ice cream cones and he knew without a doubt it was the mint chocolate chip on top and the vanilla cinnamon swirl on bottom, of the ice cream shop that closed when he was seven.

"I remember those," Derek called walking to him. "You would try to share with me."

"I can share now," Stiles grinned and handed the cone to Derek, ignoring the man's nudity. "Wanna ruin dinner?"

Derek leaned against the tree with him and they ate the cones. Stiles smeared a tiny bit onto the bark because it was only fair to share. It seemed to please the tree and they heard a noise and a group of deer ran through the clearing, freezing when they saw Derek. But Derek stayed still and Stiles stared. "Uhh, is that a unicorn in there with them?" Because it sure as hell looked like a unicorn.

"Yup. I don't like chocolate mint."

"I'll eat it," Stiles said. He had already eaten his. "Here switch have the bottom and I'll have the top." He froze because that sounded just a bit…wrong, but Derek didn't seem to notice, and also seemed fine with the vanilla. Stiles licked the mint chip and looked at the unicorn. "Wow," he said, "did I make that?"

"No," Derek said. "if you had, the horn would like more curved, been more iridescent. Think it's just a unicorn."

"Cool, so my family not the only magic stuff out there." The animals ran off and when you weren't directly looking the unicorn blended in, hid. That was awesome. "Might mean there are other werewolves or shapeshifters out there."

That got eyebrows of disgruntlement. "No."

"No what? Just you two?"

"No, there are more, we can feel them. But you aren't allowed to find them. You are our human."

"Are you jealous?" Stiles had to laugh. Derek had finished his cone and Stiles offered the one in his hand over. There was a head shake and Stiles rested it against the tree as a gift. Derek dressed, and they headed out, the bit of magic ice cream making them realize how hungry they were, so they went consumed burgers and curly fries. He nudged Derek to talk a bit and found out, Derek wanted to learn how to work on cars.

"That's cool," Stiles agreed. "There are classes you could take, if you want. Eventually maybe go work at a shop?"

There was a shrug but the eyebrows looked eager and there was a small smile. Stiles was so researching trades classes in town for the guy. Derek was a bit awkward but seemed to be making an effort to use words, which by the end of the day, the guy was really done, so Stiles appreciated the effort.

"Groceries," Derek said after they finished and there was an odd breathlessness to it. Dude seemed really excited about groceries.

Which hey why not?

They hit the store and wasn't too crowded, Derek grabbed the cart and the list was pulled out. They went aisle by aisle and Derek called out the food and Stiles grabbed it off the shelves. It was pinging at something in his brain, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. But it was kinda nice, just the two of them, talking about what they'd cook this weekend, making fun of Peter's weird obsession with goldfish crackers. Trying yet another brand of healthier chips for his dad and hoping they wouldn't taste gross.

Derek kept giving him these looks that were soft and gentle and almost smiling. It was so odd. Nice, made his face even more gorgeous but you know, weird. Derek bagged because well not letting Stiles bag was the correct choice, things tended to get squished.

Stiles paid, after glaring at Derek, because they could afford groceries without the limitless wallets. At some point that was going to run out, it had to, and they needed to be prepared for that. They were pushing the cart out when Derek stopped.

"Shit we forget something?" Stiles asked.

"No, but hold on," Derek said and pulled some coins out of his pocket. He went to one of those shitty gatcha machines at the front of the store and put a dollar of quarters in. Stiles watched him twist the tab and then a bouncy ball that looked like galaxy slid into his hand. "Here."

"Huh?" Stiles looked at it.

"I remember you crying into my fur because your dad always refused to get you one, something about how you would lose it, and be upset and it wasn't worth it."

"He was right," Stiles could say now. But he looked at the stupid bit of rubber, and even now he knew he'd lose it in a day if he played with it. Stiles carefully put it in his pocket, to put in the box under his bed that he kept all his random things he had always thought were magic, before he found out magic was real.

Car loaded, cart returned, drive home. All perfectly normal. His dad was home and clearly had some sort of game on the tv. Stiles waved him off from helping because the guy was clearly dozing. No Peter and he looked at Derek who just shrugged.

Well, hopefully Peter was just off committing misdemeanour's and not felonies.

Bags were put on the kitchen table and they worked easily together putting the food away. It was a tuning fork in his brain, a deja vu all over again, but he couldn't place it.

The last bit was put in the cupboards and Stiles was pretty damn proud of them for doing this. He was practically a responsible adult. He was trying to figure out how he could hustle this into something more, when Derek was right next to him. "Hey, buddy, what up?" Stiles blinked, because really close. Derek was like super close.

Derek grinned, "Hot date, or what?" he said.

Stiles realized that he was remembering a million late trips to the grocery store because Dad had been late getting home, and his mom would let Stiles go to the grocery store in pajamas since it was almost bedtime. And his dad would always say that when the groceries were put away and his mom would swat and laugh and then -

Then there was a kiss.

And that was Derek kissing him.

Because to Derek, his understanding of a date was an evening grocery run, because he had only been human a few weeks, and all his experience of the world was the memories he had of being a stuffed animal.

He needed to stop this, but also first kiss.

Great kiss, and Stiles forgot his worries and for just a moment kissed back.

Chapter Text

Stiles stormed into Scott's house.

"Hi, Stiles?" Melissa stared at him. "I thought I took the key away?"

"Yeah, I have five copies," Stiles said, and sighed when her hand was held out. He put it in there, "I have four copies." He looked at her, "so I'm just going to go up then. Nice to see you."

"He's not here, Stiles, he's out with —" Melissa quieted.

"The cool kids?" Stiles cursed. "Dammit. I kinda needed to talk to him. Like a lot."

"You could talk to me?"

Stiles gave her a look, "that would be the same as talking to my dad about it. This is best friend help, not parents help." He pulled out his phone, and texted Scott. Again. "Do you like Allison?"

"I do," Melissa said. "I think Scott perhaps is being a little intense, but first relationship. Do you like Allison?"

"Yeah," Stiles sighed, "it would be easier if she was a bi -big meanie," he quickly corrected at a raised brow, "but she's great, and Scott is happy. So I'm happy. Just wish…"

"Wish he was on a date with Allison, and not with the 'cool kids'?"

"Yuppers," Stiles groaned when Melissa pulled him into a tight hug. "Thanks, but you are really strong and it is starting to hurt."

"He'll be back, Stiles. He knows at the end of the day, cool kids are a good time, not a long time. He just is having a moment."

"I know, and I want him to have that moment. It's also my fault, I've been busy with our house guests too, so ignored him a few times." Melissa was starting to let go, "thirty more seconds," he said and there was a laugh, a kiss to his head. When she let go he looked at her. "Look, I go home, I have to deal with feelings, so can I hide in Scottie's room?"

"Your dad know you are here?"

"Well, I ran out of the house screaming I am your god and sit on a throne of magic and lies, so pretty sure he'll figure out where I would have gone in a state like that."

"I'll text him to let him know you made it, and that I'll drive you home later, because I didn't hear the jeep."

"I ran," Stiles agreed. "I sit on a throne Melissa, a throne."

"Sure you do, I'm going to watch home improvement shows, and pretend I'll fix my house someday."

"Have fun," Stiles said and stomped up to Scott's room. Which oh god, wow, how much body spray had the guy put on for his date? How didn't it trigger his asthma? Fuck, he had to open a window. He also sort of waved a t-shirt around in an attempt to get the stink out. Not that he was sure anything could. He flopped on the bean bag chair in the corner and sort of just stared at Scott's wall.

Derek had kissed him.

His brain was having trouble processing that fact. Derek Hale had kissed him. His favourite stuffie, his favourite everything had kissed him. And it had been a great kiss. Emotionally. Physically actually now that he looked back it hadn't been that great a kiss. Bit too teethy. But also like maybe good. He had no idea how to rate kisses. That had been his first kiss that wasn't in a school play, or pity kiss on the cheek because he was a sweet guy.

Actually, had it even been a kiss? Maybe Derek had just fallen slowly and incredibly deliberately against his mouth. He could go with that explanation.

Sure he had to ignore that he had shouted 'did you just kiss me?' at the man and the man had said yes, don't worry I'll watch more of your porn and get better at —only they don't do a lot of kissing in those. You dad used to kiss your mom a lot, and I could ask his advice.

Stiles needed to clean out the few saved files and his browser history when he got home. And ideally forget that Derek had offered to talk to Stiles' dad about how to kiss. He had tried to explain to Derek that Derek didn't quite understand what a kiss to the mouth meant, that friends hugged, kissed cheek or temple.

Derek had replied okay, that he was good with that because they were friends too, along with being boyfriends.

Stiles had been a wee bit shocked by that proclamation. He hadn't know they were boyfriends and was trying to figure out if he should have in fact known that. But also, Derek couldn't actually like him like that —he had made Derek and when he tried to point that out, Derek, well Derek had laughed.

Then they had argued and there was yelling and another kiss, which had lead to the god proclamation and running.

Not his finest moment perhaps.

"Stiles?"

"Yeah-huh?" Stiles looked at Melissa. She had a plate in hand. "What's up?"

"Your dad said he wasn't sure if you had eaten and to feed you. Also that he had talked to Derek, and he definitely wanted to talk to you when you got home. But also if you wanted to stay the night to hide from that conversation for twenty four hours you could. Pretty sure you have clothes here."

"Probably," Stiles agreed. "I really need Scott." He held out his hands and the plate was put in it, with a wrap that he knew would have the exact right ratio of meat to toppings because that was Melissa's magic power. "Thanks." He had burned off the dinner he and Derek had had freaking out and running.

Which okay so if you added the time in the preserve and the dinner together before the grocery shopping, yeah, it seemed Stiles had gone on a date with Derek.

"With his grades, he has earlier curfew he'll be in by ten," she promised.

Stiles nodded to that and just ate. He put the plate on the dresser when he finished, he'd take it down later. He just sort of poked about the room, found a bunch of things he had thought he had lost, and sort of put them in a pile. He tried to play video games, and really tried not to think about how he wanted to see if he and Derek could get better at kissing.

Because he couldn't.

He had made Derek, that would be weird. It wasn't that sort of like. No way would the Derek he had created with his talents, and looks, and smarts, and looks, want Stiles.

He heard the door open and quiet voices. Footsteps on stairs, it was so odd that Scott sounded different, but the guy had been working out hard, put on about fifteen pounds of pure muscle over the last few months. Would change foot tread. Had to make a mental note about it.

"Stiles, oh my god, thank god you are here," Scott was almost shouting. "Night, Mom!" he shouted, and quickly closed the door. "You must be psychic to know I had to tell you something."

"Scott —" Stiles tried to cut him off.

Scott had gone to the bathroom, and, hey, good to know their friendship was still strong enough that Scott felt comfortable taking a leak without the door closed. "Okay, so one you should have come to the party!"

"What party, Scott?"

"Huh, what do you mean what party?" Scott looked confused. It always made him look like a puppy. "Danny's party."

"I wasn't invited," Stiles said, which rude he thought he and Danny were friends. But also Jackson was his best friend and Jackson hated Stiles, so that likely left him off the guest list. "I'm never invited to the parties."

"I mean it wasn't so much a party," Scott tried to cover up, "more a large hangout?" Scott looked a bit guilty. "I just figured you weren't there because you have those house guests. Next time, I'll make sure you are included."

"It's fine, but look," Stiles began and was cut off again.

"So we were watching this horror movie, and it was mainly so we'd you know," Scott wiggled his eyebrows. It looked so stupid. "And Allison and I were under a blanket, and she let me touch her tit! I mean over top clothes, but still, dude boob touch!"

"Good, that's great," Stiles gave a thumb's up. "I'm gonna go home." He'd known this was useless. He stood, started to leave because there was no room here for him right now.

"Hey, wait, I gotta tell you more," Scott began, and Stiles turned around.

He wanted to yell, opened his mouth to scream and didn't. "Dude, you suck," he said in a calmer than he expected voice. "You suck so much, right now."

"What'd I do?"

"Scott," Stiles looked at him. "Do you like me?"

There was a very confused laugh, "Yeah, you're my best friend, duh?" A reach out, and a punch to his shoulder. "Have you been drinking, got into your dad's booze?"

Stiles froze. "Scott." He let out a slow breath, anger not white hot but frozen, frozen enough in the warm room, you could see his breath. "Did you just fucking break best friend code?"

"I didn't, I was just joking," Scott protested, "It doesn't mean anything." He was getting that defensive, panicked look, where he knew he fucked up but didn't want to admit it. Stiles had first seen that look when Scott had taken a crayon, and forgot to put it back. Stiles had taken the heat for him that day.

More frozen breath, and Stiles could feel the tattoos on his thighs, shifting, spinning. Ready to defend. Stiles looked at Scott, "the next thing that comes out of your mouth defines the rest of our friendship, Scott. This moment right now, changes everything. Forever. So I want to know what you are going to say."

He waited for a half baked apology, or for Scott to ramble about Allison to distract, or he didn't even know what.

What he didn't expect was for Scott to walk up and hug him. There were no words at all, just a painfully tight hug, a very Melissa sort of hug.

Everything in Stiles warmed up, the tattoos stopped moving. And he hugged back.

"Shame we'll have to tell Allison you finally realized your feelings for me, and that we are running away together." Stiles tried to tease.

"Dude, no offense, but I've shared a bathroom with you after Taco Time. There are no feelings." The hug tightened. "I'm sorry."

Scott wasn't good at saying those words, so Stiles let go of the pain, and accepted them. "All good. But it is the best friend code, and you broke it, you know the punishment."

"Dude, she'll never let me get to second base again. Please, Stiles, anything but that."

"My guy, it's got to happen." Stiles went to the bathroom, and grabbed the razor. "You swore."

Five minutes later, Scott had no eyebrows, and it was weird. "I hate you," Scott said.

"Yeah, honestly want me to take it back?" Stiles winced because looking at this felt like a punishment for him too. "I can maybe take it back?" Regrowing eyebrows sort of had to be like creation magic right?

"What glue them back on?" Scott looked in the mirror and began to laugh. "No, you know what? I look stupid, and I've been stupid, so that's fair. Wanna watch a movie?"

"Yeah," Stiles agreed, and they sat on Scott's bed, watching some shitty science fiction thing that would have been shitty effects even when it was made. "Scott?"

"What up?"

"I don't hate Allison, I think she's great. But I really hate Jackson, and kinda am starting to hate Lydia."

"But you've crushed on her forever!" Scott stared at him in shock. "What the heck?"

Stiles shrugged, "she chooses to be this fake shell to get ahead, and she hollows herself out for it. If she doesn't stop, she'll rot away. I can see it." He could. If he focused he could sort of see like a Dorian Grey thing going on, what people really looked like. She was getting gross on the edges, and he hoped maybe she'd stop at some point. That would be nice. "I uh, so tonight, I came over because one of our house guests kissed me."

"Holy shit!" Scott yelled, and fell off the bed. "Oh my god, dude!"

"I know!" Stiles flailed a bit. "My first kiss. Like my fourth, because we'll pretend those cheeks kiss from Jenn when we were seven counted, but you know first kiss since I understood and wanted what kissing leads to."

"And do you want it to lead with this person?"

"I have no clue, it was just putting away the grocery shopping and then wham, kiss!" Stiles froze. "What if he had done in the grocery store? In the cereal aisle. I would never be able to meet Captain Crunch's gaze again." Scott laughed at him, and Stiles scowled, "yeah, see if you get any kisses until those grow back in."

"Did he force you, because your dad would kick them out in a second, even arrest him." Scott was looking serious. "And I'll kick his ass. I can do it now, check out these biceps." There was a curl, and he supposed it was impressive. But he saw Derek naked regularly, and Scott was definitely not Derek. "Shouldn't they be leaving soon anyways. It's been a few weeks hasn't it?"

Stiles had been trying to manifest them a place but it wasn't working. Maybe if he said it out loud to Scott, it would happen. "They bought a place in town but it needs a lot of renovations. One of those new loft condos in that industrial park that is being converted."

"Oh, that's actually kind of cool."

"I know, right?" Stiles thought it was pretty cool. He didn't want them to move out, but also he could see for them, the appeal of being able to live on their own, experience, the whole human experience and stuff. So he was trying to make it happen. "But be another few weeks before they can do that."

"How do you know them anyways?"

"Always camped the same time out at Shasta, back when, and Derek and I talked online together. He and his Uncle Peter decided to visit. They liked town enough they decided to settle here."

"Cool. And Derek is our age? If he is staying, he is coming to school then! I can glare at him. Tell him he better treat you right, because you are the best."

"Yeah, uhh he's older than us."

"Oh, like what nineteen?" Scott sounded impressed. "Dude, a college guy kissed you!"

"Twenty-three," Stiles muttered and decided to hide under the blanket, only to immediately pop up. "If you tell your mom, I'll kill you. I will shave your legs, and then I'll kill you." Scott was spluttering, making some sort of weird choking noise. "You okay there, buddy?"

"Your dad is gonna arrest him."

"No, as long as no dick goes in no ass we are fine," Stiles offered. "And dad's rule is to generally ignore that particular crime unless you know it is assault, then he tacks it on for extra. Kids be horny as he says."

"Kinda creepy though, does he say you are mature for your age or you understand him better than people his age? How many has he creeped on?"

"Nah, he's not my Creeperwolf, that's Peter," Stiles dismissed, "and all his creep is being levelled at my dad."

"What???" Scott looked like he was having a heart attack. "What do you mean a guy is being creepy to your dad?"

"No, just weird flirting, by breaking a few minor laws, it is fine. Dad hasn't put it together yet, and I don't even know if he swings that way. Huh, does Dad swing that way?"

"I get a little bit busy, and madness happens."

"You weren't just a little busy, Scott," Stiles pointed out. "How can you even stand Jackson?"

"Yeah, he's a tool, but Danny's cool, and Allison adores Lydia. But they never want to talk about fun stuff."

"The price of cool is never having fun. But you do get to touch a boob. Over multiple layers." They both laughed and later when they were crashing, Scott leaned over to look at Stiles on the floor.

"Hey, so do you think you'll kiss the old guy again?"

"I don't know," Stiles said, "I shouldn't. It's complicated, and he doesn't really mean it."

"Maybe he does, you are pretty great Stiles."

"Thanks. Allison is lucky to have you, buddy." He could hear Scott's snores soon enough and honestly he was happy he had had this time, and he was pretty sure they were back on even keel. He quietly stood up, adjusted the blanket over Scott.

He texted his dad and waited outside.

In the car, he leaned against the seat. "Sorry," he offered.

"Whenever, wherever, no questions," he said, just like he promised he always would if Stiles called in the middle of the night. "Does all of this have to do with why Derek is trying to sleep on the couch tonight?"

Stiles nodded. When they got home, he looked at Derek on the couch and ached. His dad gave him a shoulder squeeze and disappeared upstairs.

"Hey," he said softly.

"You made me real, but you aren't a god. No god would have that smelly feet," was muttered. "You made me, but I'm me."

"Yeah, you are," Stiles agreed, "let's go to bed, huh?"

Derek's head turned and looked at him, eyes glowing in the dark. He stood and they went up to bed.

Chapter Text

Noah was cursing his luck, which tonight seemed to be none or bad. He was in the woods, alone, because the backup had blown a tire. Clouds were forming which meant with the way the night was going he'd get poured on at some point, which would also destroy any evidence or tracks. There was a missing teen, and honestly when he had gone to take the father's statement, something had felt damned off about the guy. It had taken him a long time to find a picture of his kid, and they were four years out of date.

Noah had called home, and asked if Stiles had a more recent picture of Isaac Lahey in his yearbook and had heard paragraphs in the silence that had followed. There had been a quiet plea to find his friend, and shit was all that Noah could think. A photo was texted to him, tiny and grainy but more recent.

"I promise, officer," the father said, "he will be thoroughly punished for wasting all your time and resources on what is a temper tantrum over my reasonable response to poor grades."

"Kids fuck up," Noah said, "my kid a dang genius but brought home a C in economics last assignment. Apparently ended up talking about the history of circumcision for the last half of the paper." He laughed, "what can you do?"

"Perhaps raise them right, officer?"

"Sheriff," Noah smiled, "and my men and women are deputies, kinda how small town force works. And I dunno raising them right, tends to include having a recent picture of them, not leading the sort of life that requires running away from. We'll get him home."

Noah left and in the car, called Stiles back, "tell me everything you know about Isaac, because his dad is a fucking piece of work, and something is wrong."

"Kid is scared of his shadow. Scared as shit of you, why you've only seen him a couple times running from the house."

"What'd I do?"

"I mean you made me, that's gotta be terrifying for people," Stiles said, and Noah could hear Peter snort in the background. "But guessing you were a hammer, behave or I'll call the sheriff on you. You know equivalent to eat all your peas or the aliens will take you away."

"Hey, it worked," Noah protested but sighed, "but fine. You have any idea where he might have gone?"

"Graveyard, he works there nights when his dad makes him, but once said he finds it comforting too. Talking to his brother's spot. Dad, he is nice. Really shy and something is wrong, but I want to help him."

"Thanks, kiddo."

"Find him, he smells sad," he could hear Derek say. "I want us to make him not sad."

"I will do my best," Noah promised. He drove out to the graveyard, but there was nothing. He sat with Claudia and tried his best to think. Running away in Beacon Hills was hard, especially if no car, and it was clear the kid had been on foot. Which meant hitchhiking. Dangerous thing. And a shy, scared kid wouldn't do that.

If he wasn't running away to escape that meant he had to hide. Noah didn't focus on the kid, but the father. The house was disturbingly clean considering a teen lived there. Houses could be clean, but no shoes in slightly wrong place, no bag dropped. No smell of teen sweat or teen obnoxious use of body spray. No new pictures of Isaac, the way punishment was suggested.

The pieces were painting a picture he did not care for. And one where unless a witness or Isaac came forward, there was not a damned thing he could do about it. But right now, there was a scared and alone kid, and Noah just knew he had gone to lick his wounds in the woods. Wounded animals didn't run they hid.

He called it in, and back up was sent, back up that blew that tire so now he was in the woods which were not small, trying to find one teen, in the dark, with clouds rolling in. "Isaac? This is -" he was about to call out that he was the sheriff, but didn't, "This is Stiles' Dad. He's worried about you, so is Derek. You've met Derek right? He wants you not sad. Stiles wants you safe. Let me help you."

Nothing, but these were big woods so he wasn't surprised. He generally stayed on the path, and anytime he went off he took careful count of his steps, made his way back, years of boy scouts and military training ingrained. He smile a bit remembering how disappointed his family had been that he wanted to be a scout, so much rule following right from when he was little.

He never said he was the sheriff or with the force when he called out, emphasized Stiles. It was getting cold, and he cold feel the rain that wanted to come. One man searching a huge preserve, was not going to find a kid. And it terrified him. Noah walked and called out, and didn't even realize where he feet were carrying him until he was in the clearing.

He shouldn't be surprised, but he was. The tree stood there and without Stiles with him, the magic was more muted, remote. Noah supposed it was matching his levels, which was so very little. But still if he had found himself there, he was there for a reason. He walked to the tree and bowed before putting a hand on the bark. "I could use an assist," he whispered.

He didn't think it would work for him the way it did for Stiles, but it didn't hurt to ask. There was no answer, but he also felt like he should wait. Every minute counted for a missing person but he leaned against the tree, closed his eyes.

He waited, a while but not long, he didn't think, and let the quiet soothe him. He opened his eyes when he heard a noise. "Isaac?" he called out. But when a figure emerged, it wasn't Isaac, but Peter. Whose eyes were glowing a bit. He stayed against the tree, waited.

Peter cut a rather dashing figure stalking across the clearing, he admitted to himself. Very cinematic, and if Peter wasn't such an asshole, he'd be like Mr. Darcy walking across the field at dawn vibes. But Peter would never soften like how Darcy had, love wouldn't gentle him, it would probably just make him more obnoxious.

He almost moved away from the tree, but the wind in the leaves whispered stay, so he stayed put. Watched as Peter stalked ever closer, until Peter was right in front of him. "Do you know what is in the woods at night?"

"You," Noah answered, not breaking the intense eye contact. "Me. This magic ass tree. A whole lot of regular trees. Squirrels. And a missing kid who is probably scared as hell. And might be hurt."

"You could be hurt walking through the woods at night. Coyote, falling, something." There was a growl. "I have read all the codes, you are supposed to have back up."

"And they couldn't make it. Scared, maybe hurt kid that Stiles cares about. What the hell else was I supposed to do?" Noah glared a bit at Peter, poked him in the chest. "Protect, that is my job, and I'm going to goddamn do it, no matter much you growl. Which I don't even know why you growl so much about my job." It had been getting worse, ever since he had gotten punched, and needed a couple stitches breaking up that bar brawl two weeks ago.

Peter was practically stalking him when he was on shift, the weirdest, creepiest guardian angel. He mostly found it amusing and a bit frustrating, but since it hadn't actually interfered with his job he mostly let it just happen.

But right now it was, "either help me find the kid, or get out of my way," Noah ordered.

The stare stayed for a moment but then his vision was blocked; it took a moment to realize it was a shirt being raised and taken off. He watched Peter strip naked, and endured the wolf transformation. He picked up all the clothes and still found himself staying against the tree. The animal's stare just as intense as human Peter. There was a snarl.

"Staying put, you have ten minutes."

A howl, painfully loud, and Peter was off running. Noah sank to the ground, leaned against the tree. "So, Nemeton, come here often?" he asked and the leaves shook a bit, as if laughing. He rambled about whatever popped in his head, not even aware of how much he sounded Stiles, not realizing that in fact Stiles sounded like him. But he told the tree about his perspective on Stiles' magic, the fact that he was pretty sure Derek and Stiles had reached kissing, boyfriend levels, but not sex because yeah he was checking garbages for condoms, like a weirdo. He also poured out his thoughts about Peter, which were mostly confusing.

He heard another howl, and knew that Peter had found Isaac. Go wolf scent capabilities. He stayed put though, because right now that was what he was supposed to do. Sure enough a few minutes later, Peter was leading Isaac into the clearing.

Isaac was shivering, shaking, and Noah doubted it was all from the cold. He stayed exactly where he was watched as Peter nudged Isaac, until Isaac was just a few feet away. "Hey, kid," Noah said softly.

"I'm sorry," was whispered. Isaac was hunched in on himself. Arms protective around his torso. "I'm so stupid."

"Sure, running into the woods at night is a dumbass thing to do. But teens do a lot of dumbass things, and sometimes the thing that should be objectively terrifying, might feel safer than other things. Did the woods feel safer than other things?" Noah waited, but wasn't surprised when Isaac didn't answer. "You've become friends with my boy."

"Stiles is nice."

There was a rumble and a warning growl from Peter, but interesting that Isaac didn't seem scared of a giant wolf. Peter moved and was next to Noah, flopped a bit too hard, dropping his head on Noah's lap. Noah grunted, but pet the fur. "Why aren't you scared of the giant wolf?" he asked.

There was just a shrug. "Because," was finally said.

Noah nodded. "Kid, do you need a hug?"

Isaac began to cry, the tears just sliding slowly down. The moon peaked between clouds and he could see the bruise around the kid's eye, the cut on his cheek. His hand dug into Peter's fur a bit too hard, and got a grumble. He reached his free arm up and Isaac flinched, which confirmed everything that Noah had been guessing.

But he waited. Isaac looked so hesitant and there was a hit of hope. Seemed the kid's soul hadn't been completely crushed yet. Maybe they could keep that spark alive. "This is a magic tree, you know," Noah said softly. "And clearly a magic wolf."

"Stiles' tattoos move," Isaac said. "He didn't even realize, but we were studying and a wolf ran down his arm, froze when it noticed me see him and scurried back up under the t-shirt sleeve."

Noah gave Peter a look and sighed, "That would have been the representation of Derek, if it had been this guy he wouldn't have run. He would have stayed and stared, daring you to say something."

"Is that…Uncle Peter?" Isaac had crouched down, not close enough for that hug but instead over by Peter. "He has the whole school scared. Anytime Stiles is about to get detention, he just says no worries, I just have to call my Uncle Peter, and you explain to him why I am coming home late."

There was a far too pleased huff from Peter. Noah met his gaze. "There are consequences to breaking the law, and Stiles needs to accept that. I am going to be having a talk with him about using your evil to thwart the rules."

Peter just huffed a clear wolf shrug that he was unlikely to be helpful during that conversation. But when Noah moved his hand there was whine, that quickly was a snarl. Peter got up and gathered his clothes in his mouth, sauntered off. Noah didn't think he'd be returning and was fairly impressed Peter could achieve saunter even as a wolf. Isaac looked awkward crouched as Noah's feet, with no wolf there.

"Are you taking me home?"

"Unless you can tell me a reason I shouldn't. If you tell me a reason I shouldn't, we'll go down to the station and fill out paperwork, and then I'll bring you home, and tuck you up in bed with Stiles, because he is a great life is hard cuddler, and Derek will sleep on the floor, jealous but also knowing it is platonic and wanting to keep both of you safe. I will spend a few hours convincing Peter not to do anything I would have to arrest him for, and in the morning a deputy and I would visit your father."

Isaac looked tempted, but just closed his eyes. "Can you drive me home?"

"I can." The sheriff looked at him. "On two conditions."

"What?"

"That you remember you call at anytime, knock on our door at any time and say wolf —I will take care of it." There was the barest nod at that, but there was one. "The next thing is that hug."

"Like what type of hug?"

Noah for just a moment was tempted not to give that multiple hour lecture to Peter. But if he did that, he'd be hanging up his badge the next day. "The type of hug a dad should give his kid. The type I give Stiles when he is having a nightmare or panic attack."

"I don't remember what those feel like."

Fuck, this kid was breaking his heart. He held out his arms and Isaac moved forward. Noah was careful not to reach too hard or too quickly but once Isaac was there, Noah wrapped him up, ran a soothing hand up and down his shoulders. "There you go. It won't be okay," he said softly.

That got a noise somewhere between a sob and a laugh. "Shouldn't you promise it will be okay?"

"I try not to lie too much. We both know it won't be okay. We both know what is going to happen when you go home tonight, and I can't stop unless you tell me I can stop it. And the second you tell me I can, I will." He paused but there wasn't anything. He hadn't expected it. "It will be bad, and maybe worse, but dawn always come, not matter how far away it seems."

"Are you magic too?"

"Not very much," Noah smiled, "just a dad." He could feel the tree having an opinion about that and simple held Isaac, and thought protect over and over again. He was aware that his ass, right where the tattoo was, rested against an exposed root of the tree. Noah felt his pocket warm a bit. From inside he pulled out three bracelets more just leather strips than anything. "Here," he said, and put them on Isaac's left wrist, pulled them off and put them on in the right order. "Never take these off, not even in the shower."

"What will they do? Will they save me?"

"No, I'm not that strong, sometimes as hard and scary it is, we have to reach out and save ourselves. We have to take the leap and hope we will get caught."

"I won't be caught. Who would catch me?"

"We would," he said. He held Isaac's wrist, the guy was taller than Stiles, and felt more fragile. Made of glass. His kid was made of titanium. "What these will do is make the horrific just a little softer, remind you, that you can leap."

Isaac's tension was gone and he was leaning against Noah. Noah kissed his head. "It won't be okay tonight, or tomorrow, but we will make it okay one day. If you let us." Isaac sank against him and cried, and Noah held him until he was spent. "I'll take you to your father's house."

"You mean home?"

"Didn't seem much like a home to me," Noah said.

They walked back to the car, and he wasn't surprised there was no Peter. He just hoped the guy wasn't off murdering or something. In the car he could feel Isaac's eyes on him. "Yes, son?"

"So magic is real. Werewolves are real."

"Magic is real, not so sure about werewolves? Stiles made Derek and Peter, not quite sure if there are more out there." That was an actual interesting question. Magic was real, so what else was? Shit, this was going to bug him. He'd have to call his mom.

God only knew what insane thing she would say.

They pulled up to the house, and Isaac tried to scurry out. "No, I'm walking you up."

"I don't know if that is a good idea," Isaac said.

Noah looked at him, understood the implication. "Alright," he agreed. He didn't say anything else but he stayed there until the front door opened and when Isaac's father saw the cruiser sitting there, he did a pretty decent job of pretending to hug Isaac and waving to him. Noah flashed the lights in acknowledgement and went to the office. He updated everyone and quietly started a file so that it was ready if Isaac ever leapt.

He was actually well over shift and clocked out, warned them he was flexing a few hours in the morning which everyone agreed was a good call. When he got home, the living room and kitchen lights were on, and he wished he was surprised.

Noah walked inside and went over, hugged Stiles before his kid could say a word. Just squeezed tightly, breathed him in. He was starting to get this whole scenting thing. Also, "when you run out of deodorant put it on the list, don't just steal mine."

"It's fine, your stick was pretty full, and not like I stole your toothbrush."

"Again." Noah was finding it difficult to let go. But he did. He went and sort of flopped in his chair. "Tea? Herbal I guess considering it is currently fuck o'clock and you have school in the morning. And no I am not calling you out."

"But -"

"I need you there to see if Isaac shows up." Noah looked at Stiles. "I need you to report to me, if he is there, what he looks like, and to be there for him."

"Dad?" Stiles looked scared. "What's going on?"

"He smells sad," Derek said, but this time Noah understood what he meant. He gave a small nod, and reached over to squeeze Derek's wrist. "I want to help him."

"Because you are a good guy," Noah smiled, "the best guy. And we will."

"Enough with the subtlety," Peter glared at them all, "just say that his father is kicking the ever living shit out of him." Peter was standing, leaning against the wall, "and we are all going to be good little boys and let that potential Byronic hero be broken apart piece by piece."

"Wait, his dad is hurting him?" Stiles started to pace, "okay, so we need to file a report, call child services. We need to —"

"Do nothing," Noah said and had to swallow at the look of devastation and betrayal on his son's face. He had stopped being his son's hero years ago, but to see any of that left just shatter and hit the floor hurt. "Stiles," he began and quieted when Stiles shook his head.

"You disgust me," Stiles said and walked away. Derek got up and with a sympathetic look followed after Stiles.

Noah nodded to himself. He didn't follow after, didn't call or shout, didn't cry. Just sat. He knew the symptoms of a heart attack, and this wasn't that. Breaking and attack were very different things. He knew Peter had left the room, and that was fine.

Noah alone right now, was how it should be. Fuck, maybe Isaac was already dead and he'd get a call about a body in a ravine or the woods in a few days. Or he'd get a call from Melissa about a kid being brought in, abused, broken. Blinded, limb missing, who knew.

He had left a kid with a monster, of course Stiles should be disgusted with him, the amount of self loathing Noah was feeling was much worse.

Noah heard the click of something being put down on the coffee table. He stared at the plain mug, tea bag floating in it as the water slowly tinted to raspberry pizzazz. "He asked me what type of hug. As if he didn't remember what just a normal hug was."

"I can kill him," Peter said softly.

"I know you could, and I know you could likely get away with it." Noah picked up the mug and the warmth did not seep in, in any way beyond physical. He wondered when his heart would thaw. "But I'd know, and I can't know that Peter. I know there are laws that are unjust, I know they are not followed ethically and equally by a lot. But I do believe in protect and serve. I believe in it, second only to how much I believe in Stiles."

"How are you protecting and serving Isaac right now? Because I see you protecting an abuser quite handily."

Noah nodded. "I'm going to bed."

"We are finishing this conversation. Or I will be going out tonight and solving the problem."

Noah went over to Peter, and got right in the man's face. "Do you think that solves the problem?" He bared his teeth, and was quite shocked when Peter tilted his neck in submission. "Do you think murder is the solution?"

"It would be for this."

"It wouldn't be," Noah said, because he hated that he was right, but he was right. "I held that kid as he cried in the woods, and clearly wondered if it was worth it to try to keep going. I pictured exactly how I would kill the man. I could feel it. And I dropped Isaac off, and gave a wave, knowing that Isaac was going to be hurt tonight."

"And you are fine with that."

Noah turned to walk away, but Peter's hand grabbed him. He gave Peter a look and wondered what was on his face that made Peter let go. Each step upstairs he was sure shortened his life by a year. In the shower, he didn't cry, just stood there, hollow. When he turned the water off, he notice his sweats that he slept in and his robe were on the toilet waiting for him. Noah dried off, dressed and went back downstairs.

Peter was in the kitchen, a fresh cup of tea. Peach medley, far better than raspberry. "I am sorry," Peter said. "It all seems easy to me. My brain thinks of a million ways to hurt, to cleave, to win. You poured the worst of what you saw into me, and Stiles made it all exotic and glamourous. I know I could be capable of so much, and I sleep in your guest room and do nothing. Derek at least is looking after Stiles and debating taking some trades classes at the college to become a mechanic." Peter had his own cup of tea. "I am a selfish man, a man meant to deal with things, and I am doing nothing."

"Made me two cups of tea."

"I'll open a tea shop where little ladies come to play rummy. They'll love how scathing I am."

Noah looked at the tea. "Do you really think I am fine with it?"

"No," Peter said after a moment. "No, I think this will tear you apart inside."

Noah smiled, a cruel winter twist of lip. "Sounds about right. I have a file started. I plan to visit neighbours when the man is at work, mention that if they see anything I am a phone call away. Plant seeds in minds of my concern for Isaac, why he's the same age as my boy, who can be a dumb teenager, but what kid runs to the woods in the middle of the night in just a t-shirt? Little seeds that get watered. I hope that Stiles being his friend, getting Isaac to come here, will show the kid there are people who will support him."

"Aside from the pesky matter of the law, why can't we kill the man?"

"Peter, don't you know that is how you make a ghost?" Noah looked at him. "How don't you smell it, feel it? I don't know what is or isn't real in terms of magic and the unexplained, but if we were to murder that man, he would haunt Isaac. In every shadow, every slammed door. It releases Isaac's body, but doesn't release his soul."

"Therapy, love, a new family could banish it."

"My great aunt Maja, her husband kicked the shit out of her as you phrased it. Her friend killed the guy with a fry pan when she walked in on him raping Maja punching her the whole time. Apparently the whole family was relieved, the party is legendary in the family history. Maja healed physically and looked better for a bit. But she kept his place at the table, in the bed, kept the house exactly how he wanted it. When she was asked about it, she said she wouldn't want to disappoint him. He was right there you know."

"Was he really?"

Noah shrugged, "even money it was ptsd, or an actual ghost. I do know our family slowly stopped going to the house, it was always cold they said. She came to us, until one day she didn't. She was gone. Catatonic, comatose, dead. Evil doesn't die because it's dead, Peter, it just changes."

"In the movies, it can be defeated."

"Until the sequel. One two Freddy's coming for you," he sing sang. "We can't kill him. I won't have that kid haunted. But we will catch him. The tree gave protection to Isaac, it will help."

"The tree or you?"

"Hardly me, I'm useless."

"Stiles will be devastated that he said that to you."

"I deserved it." Noah looked at Peter. "I can't kill him. Can't hurt him, can't touch. But I need legal eyes on him. I just need to figure out how. Patrols by the house are too obvious. When I can think, I'll come up with something." He hadn't drunk this tea either, he felt bad about that; on the other hand he really fucking hated herbal tea. He stood and as he went upstairs, Peter reached out and squeezed his wrist. Gentle, almost soothing, but not another word was said.

Noah crawled into bed, and sleep came quicker than he expected. When he woke in the morning, he could feel breathing on his face. He opened his eyes to blurrily see Stiles right there, drooling on the other pillow.

Derek was behind Stiles holding him tightly, face buried in Stiles' nape.

Stiles.

Noah stared at his son. His perfectly imperfect kid made of titanium to protect a heart made of something fragile and soft. He had always gotten a D in writing. He wanted to reach out just touch, but he didn't was scared to. He stood, went to the bathroom, headed downstairs. Coffee had clearly been set last night. He poured a too large mug, and fixed a bowl of cereal. He sat at the table and stared into space as he went through the motions of waking up, readying for the day.

Stiles came down and sat across from him. It wasn't odd that there was no Peter, but it was very odd there was no Derek. Stiles held a cup of coffee, and it was how Noah held his, when he needed to tell Stiles something serious.

He didn't brace himself, he just waited.

"I don't think I can ever go into law enforcement," Stiles said.

"Alright," Noah replied. Really not his son's hero ever again.

"I'm not as strong as you, Dad," Stiles said, "I wouldn't be able to walk away like you did last night. I wouldn't have cared about the law, I just would have cared about protecting Isaac."

Noah wished someone would just shoot him or something, better than all of this.

"No, Dad, it is so shitty, but you were right. All you would have done is ended up arrested too. You have to make choices, I don't think I could ever make, because I'd always open boxes that shouldn't be opened. I'd go down paths that you shouldn't. In movies, the cops who go off book to catch the bad guys are heroes. The 'rules cop' is a bastard who doesn't care. How awful it is to care and be tied, because if you do act, what happens next?" Noah met Stiles' gaze, and it wasn't empty, it looked like Stiles had the first time he had seen his dad's office. "Do you know how amazing you are? I could never be that."

Noah cleared his throat. "You have school to get to, don't you?"

"Yeah, I'll text you about Isaac." Stiles stood and Noah stayed seated, which made the hug awkward but so comforting. "We'll get him out, and we'll do it right, so he stays out."

"We?"

"We," Stiles said firmly. "Don't worry, Peter and I are working on a plan that is solidly 90% perfectly legal. Maybe 80%. Gotta go."

Stiles tore out of the house, and Derek came into the room. "Do you know about the plan?" He just got a grunt, Derek must have used up his morning words. But Derek sat next to him, and scented him, hugged him. He had to scratch the wolf's hair, "So trades school, huh?"

There was a flush and lowered eyebrows. "Tell me." And he was shocked when Derek did.

A few hours later at work, he got a text that Isaac was at school and actually looking okay. He let out a breath slowly, steadily. On lunch he went and talked to some neighbours and planted some seeds that he hoped would grow.

Isaac was grounded and couldn't come over to study, but he joined the lacrosse team, to replace a few guys with failing grades. Which meant he got to see the kid Friday night at the game. He made sure to sit next to Isaac's father.

"Congrats on him making the team."

"Hmm, we'll see if he can actually manage to do something right for once."

"Hey, at least he's not my kid," Noah joked and saw Stiles writing notes and passing them out. "He is there feeding insults to our team to throw at the other one to psych them out. It actually works. My kid has a mouth on them."

"A father should discipline that out."

"A dad knows when to be stern and when to let them grow and be themselves. You know, Mr. Lahey, Isaac's a good kid, he's welcome at our house anytime. He and Stiles study well together, been an improvement in grades. Isaac is a good kid. Clearly in spite of everything you are doing to him. And I will not see him lose that sweetness. Not on such a good kid." Yeah he was saying that phrase too much, but he didn't care. He knew they were being listened to, and he wanted people to look real hard at Isaac, make a note of things.

"Are you threatening me?"

"Of course not, I'm the sheriff, I'm just speaking to the qualities I admire in your son. Enjoy the game."

He went back over to where Peter and Derek were. "But we're obeying the law, hmm?" Peter said.

"Just talking to a fellow parent, didn't even whisper a threat," Noah said. They cheered and booed, and it wasn't a bad night at all. He saw the bracelets on Isaac's wrist, which was a relief. He noticed, Scott hug Stiles, but then get distracted and ignore Stiles the rest of the game, but Isaac was always right there.

They'd figure this out. Somehow. Someway.

He didn't expect that way to be Peter showing up in the station ten days later to inform the long arm of the law that he was now a licensed private investigator, and wanted to prove it, just in case they ever ran into each other lurking in hallways.

"You need five thousand hours logged."

"Or two thousand if you have a law degree. Which it seems I do. And I have hundreds of hours riding along with Beacon Hills finest."

"You were a stuffie forgotten in my cruiser," Noah groaned. "Cousin Frank?"

"Actually no," Peter smiled, "Your son's rather thorough and incredibly varied backstory and lore for me, came in rather handy. When they ran a criminal check on me, I found out all sorts of delightful things about myself. I apparently have a stint in the C.I.A., a Berkely law degree, and things that are redacted. All more than enough to qualify."

"It is insane that Derek's lore is one freaking page, and yours is a Tom Clancy novel. Show me the paperwork." It was all completely legit.

Noah smiled. He pulled out his wallet and handed Peter five bucks. "I need you to keep an eye on someone for me."

"Why sheriff, is that legal?"

"The money is from Stiles' allowance we'll say. He paid you, worried about his friend. Now go get me what I need."

"With pleasure," Peter smiled, and left without another word.

They were going to get the bastard and no ghosts would haunt the kid.

Chapter Text

Noah sat in his office and should be signing off on payroll, and a million other things, but he was distracted. A lot. He stared at the picture of Claudia that was still on his desk, would always be on his desk, "you have to be laughing so hard at this," he muttered. He swore he could actually hear it. He cursed her, himself, and most definitely Peter Hale.

A man who was probably out there right now breaking at least five laws, with a smirk. A couple of which he had sort of maybe pushed the guy very lightly and very hypothetically towards.

Noah just wished he could understand why he wasn't angry about that. I mean, sure, he was angry about the breaking the law, but in the same way he was angry when Stiles did it. In a way where he was going to lecture and sigh, but not actually arrest anyone over it. He was very concerned at how much he was embracing his family legacy.

And at least Peter had that investigator's license so it gave him a bit of freedom on loopholes and grey areas and Peter was very careful to stay on the light of the gray when the sheriff was around.

Noah really wanted to push him a bit darker when it came to the Lahey case, but that would help no one.

But maybe he should arrest Peter at some point, bring him in for questioning.

He pictured putting Peter in handcuffs, and the idea appealed. Quite a bit, actually.

The problem was that the appeal was not for law abiding purposes, which brought him back to what he was struggling with. He didn't especially have a lot of friends, he had acquaintances, and Melissa was a friend. He had thought maybe about asking her out sometime, but she never muddled up his brain like how Claudia had done, like how maybe someone else was now. She would have been safe, it wouldn't have hurt as much if anything happened. It was awful to think, but true.

He also knew if he asked her about it, she'd have the same response, that Noah was steady and she liked the thought of that after her dickwad husband. It was also in part because the boys were so close. Though less close these days. Still adore each other, but teen life put strain on things.

Maybe he should let Stiles tell Scott about the magic stuff.

"Sir?"

Noah looked up at Marcie, "what's up?"

"You have a visitor bearing food," she was smiling, a little flushed. Not the usual reaction to Stiles. "Shall I let them in?"

"Noah would never say no to me," was said behind Marcie, and there was Peter with that smirk of his. And a huge coffee, "especially when I have food that is contraband according to Stiles."

Rat bastard.

"Thanks, Marcie, and promise I'll have these papers done soon for you to fax off."

"No rush," she giggled a bit. Noah was fairly certain he had never heard her giggle a day in the ten years he had known her. "Enjoy your coffee break."

She left and Peter walked into the office, kicking the door closed behind him. "We wouldn't want a witness to your illegal activities, would we?"

Noah swallowed, "what illegal activities?"

"Eating this boston cream donut of course, what other crime would there be?"

Noah could think of a few archaic things on the books that Peter looked like he wanted to commit. Coffee, and a bag were put on his desk. It smelled like heaven. Oh fuck, the coffee had cream and sugar in it. The bag when opened showed a glistening, gorgeous donut. He took a deep breath and pulled the coffee close, and the bag towards Peter. "Thanks, but I couldn't look Stiles in the eye."

"Aren't you just a good boy," was said with that really annoying smirk. That was stupidly attractive. It was something he noticed as attractive from the beginning. The guy was gorgeous, but he had noticed its attractiveness on a different level a week ago, when Peter had smiled and said Isaac definitely was coming to school with less bruises.

Noah raised the coffee cup in salute, "Not so good, what's the worth of good, if there isn't a little bad?" Fuck, was that flirting? It felt like flirting and Peter's smirk went sharper, so he was fairly certain it was taken as flirting. He sipped the coffee which was the edge of too rich and fucking perfect. He didn't moan, because that would be stupid, but a small gasp of satisfaction made its way out.

"Well then, you don't mind if I indulge, do you?"

"Go right ahead," Noah agreed, and watched Peter pull the donut out, take a bite. Watching Peter and Derek eat was fascinating, because they relished it. Food hit them hard, almost seemed to overwhelm them, but then again they had only been eating for a few weeks. The donut was devoured, leaving a bit of chocolate on Peter's lip.

Noah was thinking about breaking a few public decency laws. Instead he nudged the tissue box on his desk forward. "Bit of chocolate," he explained. Peter was almost delicate as he cleaned his face. "Any other reason you are here? What crime do I need to clean up? Or do you have another case already?" Odd, Peter looked almost hurt. "Peter?"

"No crime today," Peter had the smirk back in place. "You've been busy. Just wanted to be kind."

Noah had been busy with budget bullshit, but he had perhaps also been hiding, trying to sort some things out. "I'll be home for dinner tonight." He stared at the papers on his desk. "If we could make dinner at six thirty?"

"We'll make it seven to be safe," Peter replied. He stood and stretched, and that stupid tight t-shirt rode up a bit. But not enough to show Noah anything, so close but no strip of skin. "Don't you smell interesting, sheriff?"

"Thanks for the coffee," Noah nodded, and Peter had that godforsaken smirk. Noah wanted to knock it off his face.

He just couldn't figure out which way he wanted to do so. Peter left but his presence lingered. But Noah focused on his paperwork in a way he usually couldn't, just to make sure he could go home. It wasn't good that all three of the people in the house looked shocked and confused when he walked in a six. It made him aware that he had been using work as an excuse, a crutch, yet again.

How disappointing he must be to Stiles. "I'm just going to change. Thought I could fire up the grill? Bought some t-bones." He held up the bag. That had Peter and Derek looking delighted and Stiles squinting. "Yes you can make a huge salad to go with it," he said. He dropped the bag in the kitchen and went upstairs, changed into sweats and a long sleeve tee. Was cool outside, but standing by the grill would keep him warm.

He went back down the kitchen, and put the steaks on the cutting board. Whipped up a quick rub of peppers and garlic, simple, but tasty. He went outside and lit the grill. Back in and Stiles was prepping the sides. Noah went over, wrapped an arm around Stiles' neck, kissed his head. "Sorry, kiddo."

"For what?"

"Hiding in work. Again."

"I know, it's a lot having people in the house all the time. I have been working on it."

That had Noah freezing a bit. "What do you mean, working on it?"

"Trying to build the lore out, so that they had a place they lived, to make it real in the really real world. But I kinda always just pictured them living here, so going back in, to create an apartment is hard in my memories. It just isn't sticking, manifesting." Stiles looked frustrated that he couldn't bend the magic the way he wanted to. But that was because Noah knew he didn't really want to. Magic was belief, after all.

"Can you and I go for a drive after dinner?" Noah said, "edge of town, like we used to when you needed to talk."

Stiles looked nervous, but nodded. "Okay, yeah," he agreed.

He had made it awkward, dammit. "Nothing bad, just…I am trying to sort stuff in my head, and could just use some you and I time."

"Oh," Stiles smiled, relaxed, "Yeah, no prob, Daddio."

Noah rolled his eyes at that and took the steaks outside. He thought a beer would go great with the moment, but put that thought aside. Wasn't Sunday after all. He stood on the back porch and looked out into the dark, lights were on in various houses, the air smelled like winter wasn't so very far away. He flipped the steaks and enjoyed the quiet, with noise from inside occasionally reaching him, as Stiles and Derek bickered over what vegetables belonged in a salad.

The door opened, and Peter was next to him. "Smells good," was purred, and a nose was so close to his neck. But didn't touch. "The steaks, of course."

Noah closed his eyes, breathed in. Peter didn't wear cologne, and you sort of expected someone who looked like him to. But with the wolf factor, likely would overwhelm the senses. So all he could smell was the steak, which was smelling pretty damn great. "Peter," he said softly.

"Yes, sweetheart?"

For some reason that made him laugh, "I'm too damn old and worn, to be called that, even in your sarcastic voice." He turned the steaks so they would get a good cross hatch grill mark. "Sweetheart, wasn't even one of those when I was Stiles' age." He had to snort again at that.

"How very boring, to diminish yourself," Peter whispered right against his ear, and was gone.

Noah was so fucking lost with that man.

Dinner was tense, and he knew it was all coming from him, but they ate and Derek was watching him. Or no, Derek was watching Stiles watch him.

"We'll do the dishes," Derek offered, and was staring at Stiles.

"Right, yeah, thanks," Stiles smiled. "Dad?"

Noah nodded. He drove them in the cruiser to the edge of town, right by the Thanks for Visiting! sign. They got out, sat on the hood, even though it was getting colder. There was a shock blanket in the trunk, he grabbed it for them.

"We came out here, when you had to tell me mom was sick," Stiles said. "Are you sick?"

"No," Noah shook his head, "I'm just struggling with something. And frankly, could use your advice."

"Mine?" Stiles squeaked. "You always say I am too young, and don't know anything!"

"Yeah, well, Stiles, you don't know as much as you think you do, and what you do know you want to just run and out and make it better. Scares a dad. Don't mind you changing the world, mind you rushing towards that without thinking it through first."

That got him a hug and he leaned into Stiles for a moment. "So just so we're clear, no dying?" Stiles asked.

"No dying," Noah promised. "What's going on with you and Derek?"

"What?" Stiles flailed a bit, "what did you see hear?"

Oh, he wasn't sure he liked that sentence. Noah squinted at Stiles. "Why don't you explain to me, what you think I heard?"

There was a squinting back, "No, you changed the wording there. I'm not confessing to anything, because you are going for entrapment."

"So you have something to confess." Noah grinned a bit, "you'll feel better if you talk about it. I know you had a reason."

"I'm not a criminal! Don't try that shit. Oh wait, I'm not eighteen, am I criminal? Pants have stayed on? No penetration, no crime?" Stiles was staring at him in a bit of terror. Noah hugged him. "I'm just oh god, Dad, lots of kids —"

"What do we do when interrogated?" Noah said.

"Shut the fuck up," Stiles repeated dutifully.

"What aren't you doing?"

"Shutting the fuck up," Stiles sighed, "was this why we came out here? Because, hey, plus side no grandbabies can happen. That's something right? No stds either, because I was a virgin and he's only been human like seven weeks."

Noah paused, "actually wait. So in theory I should be mad because he's early twenties and you are seventeen. But also, he is barely human. Does that make it creepy?" Does that mean his increasing thoughts about Peter are creepy. "Huh."

"Yeah, huh," Stiles sat there, they both sat there in silence for a minute. "I think I created enough lore, and they have that whole backstory we can assume they are the ages, I imagined them to be?"

"Works for me," Noah agreed. "I need to — you know I loved your mother more than anything, right?"

"Yup," Stiles agreed. "Why you were so bad when she died." They didn't talk about it a lot, those wounds generally healed. "This about Peter?"

Noah nodded. "He is flirting with me, right?" In the last couple weeks Peter had changed. His focused had always been on Noah, but it was different. It was like he had read a pick up manual or something. Noah remembered asking Peter if he was interested in what dicks do, and he was thinking Peter had come to some conclusions. That involved Noah.

"Dude, yes, he so is. It is like full kinda creeper stalking? But also like in a never would hurt you way. He watches you so much."

"Look," Noah began and stopped, "fuck, can't believe I'm talking about this with you. I really should get more friends than Melissa."

"You want to flirt back?"

"I think I did when he dropped by my office this morning?" Noah groaned, and leaned back against the window of the car, stared up at the sky. "Your mother was everything. It isn't that I stopped loving her."

"I know that," Stiles agreed and leaned back as well.

"It's just. Sure, every guy thinks about guys occasionally when he jerks off —" He was confused by Stiles' giggling. "What?"

"Dad, trust me, every guy does not think that."

Noah frowned a bit. "I mean sure they do, why wouldn't they? Sometimes you picture a girl, sometimes you remember a guy you saw at the coffee shop or like on tv, and your mind drifts to him."

More laughter, wasn't that delightful. "Dad, Scott can't even watch a threeway with two guys because that much dick is too weird."

"Well threeways are weird, always seems like you get cold standing around like that."

"So this is going to be just the worst conversation you and I ever have, worse than sex ed time, and we both are going to swear to forget it immediately on the drive home, okay? Promise me, Dad, we forget this ever happened." Stiles held up a pinkie, and Noah wrapped his around it. "Okay, guys who are straight, do not picture other guys. When they watch porn they don't equally stare at the guy banging the girl, they are too busy pretending they are the guy banging the girl."

Noah listened and tried to think. Tried to put pieces together. "In the army, sometimes you just helped each other out."

"Did everyone help each other out?"

"No, suppose they didn't. They'd jerk off and you ignored it. But sometimes in the showers, a couple guys would," he motioned jerking off. "No big deal. You didn't talk about it, just the way it was."

"For you?"

Noah sort of grunted in agreement.

"Okay so what were you imagining when this was happening?"

"What do you mean imagine, I was kinda busy with mutual hand job, Stiles."

"See if it was just, a no other options, you would have been picturing a woman as the guy jerked you off, and you might have not even helped the other guy out."

"Not going to be rude, guy helps you, you help him." Noah frowned. "You and Derek not engaged in mutual…whatever it is you are doing that I actually don't want to know about?"

"We are mutually mutualling don't worry, with pants still staying on," Stiles said. "The point of all of this Dad, is you might be having a sexual awakening at sixty."

"Jesus, Stiles, I'm 48." He swatted Stiles. "Come on." He focused on the stars. "So I'm gay?"

"No, Dad, am I gay?"

"You're not gay, you said you were the likes either one. Bi." There was a loaded silence from Stiles. "Oh, shit. Huh," was all Noah could say. "Is it equal?"

"Not necessarily. Some people have a bit of a preference one way or the other. Bet you lean towards women, but some guys just do it for you."

Noah stared up at the sky, "Okay, honestly here's the thing. Why does my dick seem to like people who are on the edge of crazy and criminality? Because like Peter does not look like your mother at all, but the think circles around me and live in the grey area of the law is sure as hell in common."

"Oh god, I am not answering that! I don't even know what the answer to that is!" Stiles was making a face. "Dad, that is gross. Do not ruin the bonding."

Noah could be a good man, but also he could have revenge for the veggie burger the other day. It had been horrific. "Actually, I should do some research. Probably watch more guy on guy porn. What's that website you use, not the one that bricked your computer. The good one that has you having one am showers."

"Dad!" Stiles hopped off the car. "No! Just no. You don't watch porn. You are old and your dick doesn't work because you are old."

"I mean, can I flog as much as you probably do when I'm not home, nope, but not that old, son."

"I hate you and this conversation is over. But like, if you want it ethical, there are reddit threads where people choose to post their own nudes and stuff. Some of the porn webpages bit iffy on the consent."

"Good job, being ethical, kidoo." Noah stood up. "So…bi…"

"Yup, we can do pride stuff together!" Stiles was beaming at him. "We have something in common, and all."

Noah hugged him. "Thanks, kid."

"I can send you some links. Not for porn, dear god, not for porn. But like general info on being bi, practical guides to how gay sex works?"

Noah gave a grunt of agreement to that, and they got back in the car. Noah cranked up the heat as they drove home. "Doesn't mean he's flirting with me because he likes me. Peter could be doing it just for some weird game he has going on because he's bored. We really need to get him more clients." He had suggested Peter a few times when people came in with complaints that weren't quite in the police force purview, but it took time to build a business and a town of thirty thousand only needed so much investigating.

"Dad, yeah he'd fuck with you, he's a jackass like that. But I don't think this is that. And I'm cool with it." There was a pause. "I'm glad it wasn't Melissa. I know you two almost —"

"Why?" Noah was curious, "I would have thought because of Scott, that one would have been what you wanted."

There was just a shrug, "It's selfish, but kinda happy it isn't a woman that has you interested again. Doesn't feel as much as a replacement for Mom. I know it is stupid, and honestly maybe accidentally some how phobic in some way. Just…all I got." Stiles laughed awkwardly. "Also this will be fun to watch."

"Kinky."

"Oh my god, Dad, brain bleach. I need all the brain bleach. My magic can create stuff, I can create brain bleach."

Noah reached out, and scruffed Stiles' neck a bit, laughed at the dramatic reaction from his kid. "Sorry, just had to."

"God I am going to have you accidentally find what I ordered online like a year ago, just to freak you out," Stiles muttered. "To be clear, never used it because it freaked me out too, but honestly, yeah you are going to find it, and be so confused."

Noah frowned, because honestly that sounded terrifying. And he didn't want to know, but also he was a cop and nosy and now this would bug him. Shit, Stiles had set him up perfectly.

He really hoped his kid didn't use his powers for evil.

They made it home and Derek and Peter were both on the porch, looking tense. Derek openly, Peter trying to hide it. They got out of the car and he watched Stiles run to Derek, "Derek I have been traumatized, I need five million kisses to mind wipe me."

Derek had caught Stiles but quickly looked over to Noah, because this was the first open acknowledgement of that particular relationship, and Noah just tilted his head, shrugged. He hoped Derek understood what that meant, because honestly Noah wasn't exactly sure what it meant. But enough was understood that they went in the house.

Which left Noah and Peter on the porch.

"Derek suggested that I should leave you alone," Peter was drinking something dark and heady in the glass that the sheriff was not going to reach for, because the last few hours hadn't magically turned this to Sunday. "Should I leave you alone?"

Noah walked slowly closer to Peter. He took the glass from Peter and sniffed it. - Johnny Walker blue label. Gorgeous. He put it on the porch railing without bringing it to his mouth. "I've been alone. Think I might be tired of it." It had been years since he kissed anyone like this, and the last time it had been goodbye.

Perhaps, a hello, wasn't as terrifying as he thought it would be.

He didn't touch Peter, just leaned forward and pressed his mouth to Peter's. It was open and he could press more, but he didn't. He stayed for just a moment and then pulled away. "Don't leave me alone," he said and went inside.

He went to his bedroom and sat on the bed, shaking a bit from the courage that had taken to do. He looked at the picture of Claudia on the dresser and had to smile. "I know you are laughing at me right now."

His phone beeped and it was a message from Derek. /Stiles was too scared to send the links and made me do it/

Noah laughed and started to click, he had a lot to learn and was fairly certain he needed to learn it quickly.

Chapter Text

Stiles yawned and stared out the window. Or he meant to, but he met someone's gaze and realized that a lot of people were staring at him. He looked around and yup, whole room was staring at him. Why were they staring at him?

"Dude, you're up," Scott whispered.

Stiles looked at the teacher who looked incredibly disappointed in him, which was normal for the woman. "Stiles, your presentation?"

Shit, right, presentation day. In…he looked around the room and clued in he was in social studies and was to present on…something. Oh god, he had forgotten about a presentation, the literal actual worst nightmare of high school students. Awesome. His tattoos could save him right now, that would be swell, but they didn't seem to register psychological threats well, and he couldn't feel anything moving on his body.

"Of course," he agreed and stood. He pretend to trip and landed on Scott's desk, "what am I presenting?" he whispered.

"Oral history as acceptable factual record."

Wait, that was actually an interesting topic. And he remembered doing a lot of research on it. "Okay, right," Stiles agreed.

"You are arguing that it doesn't."

"Shit," he groaned. There was a throat clear at the front. Stiles hurried up there and looked at his classmates.

"You may begin, Stiles, no notes?"

"Nah," Stiles grinned, "I got this." He stood there and said nothing for a moment because he didn't have this. But in an odd occurrence, the root tattoos on his feet and ankles felt like they were grounding him to the floor. Stabilizing him. He nodded a bit. "There is a tree in town, a magic tree," he began and he spent a few minutes explaining everything he understood about the Nemeton which was not a lot but his feet felt warm and cozy so he must be on the right track. "Now that's a cool as heck story right?" He actually got a few nods from the class. "I made it up with too much Redbull while watching Captain Planet reruns and Nova. But it is a metaphor for like the roots of Beacon Hills and stuff. Say I tell that story to the future two kids I want. And it passes down and down, that's an oral history. At what point does my social studies presentation become factual historical record? Oral history tells us about people, but it isn't empirical enough to be fact." He then blah blahed a conclusion and sat.

"Not bad for something you pulled completely out of your rear, Stiles," the teacher smiled a bit.

He gave finger guns back because that meant he was likely getting a B and he'd take it. He felt a flash along his tattoos, something settling in him. A bit more power. How? Oh shit, he had spoken about the Nemeton for a moment made a few of his classmates believe in magic, and that had juiced him up.

That might be bad. He would go out later today to see how the tree was doing.

At lunch he looked around and Scott was waving him over, and he was about to go sit with him, when Isaac appeared next to him. "Could we talk?"

"Yeah, of course. Now, after school?"

"Maybe both?" Isaac looked nervous. "It is about things."

Fuck, okay, was Isaac going to tell him about Isaac's dad? Stiles nodded, "whatever you want, buddy. I am here for you."

"Okay," Isaac looked relieved.

Stiles felt his phone buzz in his pocket, and when he checked rolled his eyes. "Come on, we need to sit. You cool sitting with Scott?"

"Sure?" Isaac looked over. "But Jackson is there."

"You just ignore him," Stiles reassured. He sat next to Scott and Isaac sat across from him. "My dad says top to bottom."

Isaac switched his bracelets, and that was easy the guy only wore three. Stiles had to switch around a half dozen on each wrist. Took forever, but goddammit the magic he accidentally created earlier resonated even harder when he did that.

"Wait, Isaac has bracelets?" Scott was frowning, "why don't I have a friendship bracelet?" There was actual pouting. He started to reach for one on his wrist and he felt both wolves snarl and start to dive down as if they could protect the bracelets.

Stiles couldn't exactly have people seeing that, so he dropped his hands, rolled the flannel sleeves down. "Sorry, pal," Stiles offered.

"You get them from Stiles' dad," Isaac explained. "He hasn't thought you needed them. Means you are safe. That's good."

"Safe?" Scott stared, "I don't get it."

"They're for anxiety," Stiles offered. "Dad's been doing reading. Found out that adhd also can have a million other things attached to it. Read about grounding objects and wham eighty million bracelets on me. And Isaac and I have been working on chemistry together, and dad saw that Isaac was freaking out about Harris —which who wouldn't right? Gave him a couple to help out. You haven't had any major concerns since dad read that article, so no bracelet for Scott."

"Oh, that makes sense," Scott nodded. "But maybe I could still have one, because friends?"

"I'll see if my dad has any spares," Stiles promised.

He was shocked that Jackson wasn't snarking, but also Lydia was wearing a new top that was tight and the guy was really distracted. They sat for a bit, but Isaac was clearly getting antsy, so he finished eating and said they had to study.

They went to the library, and he looked at Isaac. "Okay, what's up?"

"My dad says I'm not grounded anymore, and that I'm allowed to go to your place to study again. I thought he'd ban me from seeing you, but —"

But better to let the sheriff see the kid, with no bruises, to distract him, make him less suspicious. If Isaac came around a few times and seemed fine, maybe the sheriff would decide it had just been a normal teenage spat. Stop questioning. Stop looking.

The guy clearly didn't know his dad. Because his dad never stopped. Not until it was done.

Stiles nodded, "absolutely, you can come over. We'll study." Stiles paused, "actually after school, since we don't have practice. I was going out to the preserve for a walk. Good exercise."

"To the magic tree?" Isaac asked. "Could I go with?"

Stiles blinked. "Wait, you know?"

"Didn't they tell you?"

"No, but after school, you are," Stiles warned. The bell rang and they went their way. After school, Isaac met him at the jeep, and they drove out to the preserve. As they walked to the Nemeton, Isaac filled him in carefully about what happened the night he had been found. Interesting that Peter allowed himself to be seen like that, offered comfort.

Always fun to learn that under the bitchy, Peter was maybe almost a decent guy.

"You dad really dismisses that he is magic."

"Yup," Stiles agreed, "it's a whole thing. But I get it. He is like that comic where the circus kid runs away to be an accountant. But he dismisses, he doesn't reject, and he believes. So bit of magic, protection. Must have been so weird to realize what little you had was to protect to people, and your family was gonna make that difficult. Must have been hard to keep believing when he couldn't protect Mom from her own brain." Stiles thought about how she knew him right before she died, and sometimes wondered if that had been his dad's magic, not able to do a lot but sometimes just enough.

They walked until they were there, in the clearing. "Heya, Nemeton, so did I do something? Because I could feel you all happy."

The leaves shimmied even though there was no breeze and it almost looked shiny for a moment. And it was pumping out happy like no one's business.

Also something he couldn't quite explain.

"Stiles?" Isaac was making a face. "Is your tree high?"

"I mean it is decently tall?" He looked at his tree and felt it humming under his skin. "Wait, oh my god, pumping that belief into it from my class, got it high. I drugged my magic tree."

Isaac giggled an adorable little sound, and then froze almost like he had forgotten what his own laugh sounded like.

"I got the Nemeton high, that is freaking hilarious." He swore the tree was swaying. He had to run up and hug the tree. "Best magic tree ever, yes you are," he swore, "and I'm going to make sure you always feel good and strong, and oooh there has been something I have been wanting to try." He pressed his wrist against the tree. The owl. "Hey you want a new home? If the Nemeton is cool with it, of course."

The owl fluttered on his skin and he swore he felt a nip. Guess not. But the tree needed a friend for all the time, not just when they visited.

"If is okay if I touch the tree?" Isaac was close but staying a bit away. "Also do I just talk to the tree like it is a person?"

"We do," Stiles offered. "And sure, just ask the tree if its cool."

"Got it, ask the tree for consent."

Stiles snickered a bit, "why you want to ask it out on a date? Feel it up a bit."

Isaac rolled his eyes but smiled, so a win. "Hi, uhh Nemeton, I think maybe your magic helped them find me that night. And I just wanted to say thank you. I'm still scared, and I'm still…I'm still. But I'm not alone anymore, and that helps. Can I touch you?"

"My ancient magic tree is singing baby shark in my head. How does it even know baby shark?" Stiles was stunned also it was going to be stuck in his head for a week. "I think you are the baby shark? Tiny but full of bitey potential. Go on give mama shark a hug."

Stiles giggled at comparing a tree to a shark, but they were both old. No maybe sharks were actually older than trees; they were older than Saturn's rings after all. Isaac hugged the tree which shimmied and giggled, as near as a tree could, but also its voice was getting stronger in Stiles' head.

That was awesome.

He had a tree in his head and on his toes. Oooh toes. He dropped to the ground, took shoes and socks off. He then pressed his feet against the base of the tree, pressed root to root and his tattoos began to glow. "Wow, dude, look!"

"You're glowing," Isaac said in the flatest tone ever, "do you think you will turn into a tree. I would visit, bring Peter and Derek, I'd make sure Peter didn't pee on you."

"What about Derek?"

"I dunno maybe you want him to pee on you."

Stiles turned his head and looked at Isaac, who was bright red. "Wait, what?"

"I dunno!" Isaac flailed a bit, before he sat and leaned against the tree, in between a couple roots. "Wolves are territorial! So like maybe he would need to pee on you to keep other animals from peeing on you. I bet you'd be such a pretty tree that all the animals would want to pee on you."

Stiles almost cried, "you think I'd be so pretty a tree all the things would pee on me?" Isaac nodded and Stiles had to scoot over and hug him. "Why can't you just let Peter kill your dad? He would. My dad would be mad, but also it saves you so like he would yell at Peter and look the other way. You could move in with us. Our house is pretty full, but we'd make space. You think I'd be a pretty tree, I need to keep you safe."

He could hear the Nemeton whisper safe again and again. It agreed. Stiles had the power to create. He could create something that could save Isaac, so that the wolves didn't have to do a thing, he could create something that could destroy every problem and horror they would ever face.

Stiles shivered because for a moment it seemed so easy, he knew exactly what to create, could picture the monster to break other monsters. Just a little blood and sacrifice and unlimited creation. Just a little bend in how he didn't things and it could solve everything.

He smiled a bit because he could picture it and it was horrific and delightful. The Nemeton was pulsing in time to his heartbeat, to his blood flood. You didn't need anything even that sharp to draw blood.

So very easy, to fix everything in such interesting ways.

Stiles blinked when he felt himself hugged painfully tightly. Like he couldn't breathe tightly. He wrapped his arms around the hugger and felt the polyester of sheriff uniform. "Dad?"

"I'm here," was said, slightly panicked.

Stiles could hear howling, and sure enough Peter and Derek were there in full shift and ow because they seemed not to be able to stop as they barreled into them.

"Fuck," was said under him and he realized they had all pushed onto Isaac. Poor kid was being squished by a lot.

Stiles managed to roll, but that just freed Isaac not him. "Breathing room?" he asked and was ignored by his dad who just seemed to be whispering that he was there, and for Stiles to come back to him.

His wolves though, had stood up and were both growling at the tree. Snarling and Derek's eyes were glowing red.

The tree wasn't happy anymore, it was ashamed.

Stiles could feel it. They were making the tree sad, that the Nemeton had done something wrong when it was just trying to help.

"Dad, I'm evil," he whispered.

That got more snarls from the wolves and his dad's arms tightening even hard around him. "I could picture it and it was so easy, so obvious, and so very fun."

"Evil gets to dress better too, bad guys look good," his dad said.

Stiles laughed a bit, "I'd be wearing so much black." He began to cry and the impulse faded away like a shitty nightmare. The bracelets all just a little tighter and he realized as he came back to himself how the gear tattoos were furiously rotating.

If he got that close to bad with them moving like that, what would have happened if he hadn't had them?

Stiles didn't mean to but he couldn't think of what else to do and he bit his dad's arm that was holding him. The shirt protected enough he wasn't drawing blood but there would be a bruise. He couldn't understand why he was doing it, but it felt better and his dad wasn't stopping him. So it must be okay.

The gears slowed, the tears stopped, and Stiles unclenched his jaw. He slumped against his dad and then eased away. He was a bit surprised when his dad let go, but his dad understood, and knew what Stiles was going to do.

Stiles crawled forward, and wrapped his arms around Derek, buried his face in fur. "Dude, stop yelling at the poor tree. This is my fault." He could feel how sad and upset the Nemeton was. "It's my fault, the tree hasn't had all of Dad's good and bad lessons."

"It's getting one now," his dad said; Stiles watched his dad go over and put his hands on the tree, press his forehead to the bark and Stiles could practically chew the morality that was pumping out of his dad it was so thick.

Derek had sat back, mainly to let Stiles hug him better but Peter was still on guard, ready to kill. He didn't know how the wolf would take down a tree, but he believed Peter could.

Especially if the tree seemed ready to take on his dad.

"Hey, so…what's going on?" Isaac was there. Right. But woo he hadn't run away. "You started to sort of glow black a bit, like your eyes were just getting shadows and then your dad came running, and boom a hug and you were back to normal? Like I'm new to all this but that was messed up right?"

"Yeah," Stiles agreed, "that was messed up."

"Explain," Peter demanded shifted back to human, and standing there naked, uncaring. Derek better stay as a wolf, because he didn't want Isaac seeing all that. "Because I am deeply unimpressed."

"I can't," Stiles admitted.

"Magic is belief, but conviction is easier to warp than apathy," he heard his dad say. He looked over and he saw his dad wrapping his belt around one of the exposed and slightly raised roots. Oh god, his dad was giving the tree a protective bracelet.

The Nemeton was almost crying in relief.

"Stiles wanted to change or create something, and the tree wanted to help. But it was thinking in extremes, that to stop bad, you must be bad. And it wanted to help. Stiles is a moral and good kid," his dad was looking at him as he said that, "but he also is a little shit with a terrifying imagination. Can't have light without dark. And when you have that much power, the dark wants it."

"I wanted to help Isaac, and the Nemeton wanted to help Isaac, and I had sort of gotten the tree high and oh my god, the tree tripped bad balls." Stiles buried his face in Derek's fur. "I'm sorry Nemeton."

He could feel apology push even harder back to him.

"This is my fault?" Isaac looked at him in horror, and oh hell no. Stiles let go of Derek, to throw himself forward to tackle Isaac. "I'm getting tackled a lot today."

"Sorry," Stiles muttered, "this isn't your fault. At some point this would have happened, because always gotta face a test. That's how these things work. Not your fault. It is never your fault. The bad that happens to you, is never your fault." He squeezed as tight as he could. "One sentence, we just need one sentence."

"If I don't say the sentence you want, will you still be my friend?"

Stiles squeezed even harder. "Yup, you're stuck with me."

He felt a nod against him.

"Okay, well, this has been delightful, but it is getting cold and my cock is just hanging out here for underage children to see. Can we please go home now that Stiles isn't going to go evil?" Peter was looking at all of them. "Though of course Stiles, you would have been a magnificent evil."

"Thanks, Peter, so helpful." Lord the man actually bowed a bit to that, and Stiles snorted when his dad went over and lightly thwaped the back of Peter's head. "You could switch back."

"No, Isaac will want to pet me, and I do not care for that."

"I do want to pet him," Isaac admitted.

"Derek will let you," Stiles said.

"Not the same, want to pet Peter because he saved me. And also because he doesn't want to admit how much he wants to be pet."

Stiles looked at Peter because that was an interesting insight. He smiled, "hey Dad, maybe you should pet Peter more."

"Not until he takes me out on a proper date," his dad answered. "Come on, we have venison stew in the slow cooker. Isaac?"

"Yeah, Dad wants you to see me a bunch," Isaac straightened his shoulders a bit. "My dad is a jerk."

Okay that was honestly progress on that front. They would get there. They went home, Derek shifted back once in the safety of the house and it was a good dinner. His dad drove Isaac home after, and they all talked about what had happened, and Stiles found out that all their key chains had started to glow and the world had bent to their will a bit. Every light green, no one at the entrance of the preserve so the wolves could shift right away, Noah running and not tripping once.

"We will always bring you back," his dad swore.

"I know, and hey now that I know how it feels, easier to avoid," Stiles offered. "Evil is kinda oily. Slimy. That how it feels to you Peter?"

"Not evil, just a pragmatist." Peter smiled, "and I find it warm and fuzzy. Like a teddy bear. With fangs."

There was a sigh from his dad at that, and Stiles had to laugh at them, just a little.

When in bed that night, he and Derek were kissing, and hands were roaming, and he hoped maybe they'd roam just a little bit more.

Then there was a pause, Derek easing back. "Wait, Peter said underage. About you. What does that mean?"

Stiles froze.

Oh no.