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Stiles is expecting to feel something, of course. Deaton warned them about the darkness around their hearts after the ice baths. So when he gets tired more easily, when he sleeps hard and has strange, twisted dreams, and when the headaches start up… he chalks it up to what Deaton talked about.


He doesn't mention it. Scott doesn't seem to be struggling and neither does Allison, but they have each other. He's happy for them, really. It doesn't matter that it makes him feel even more alone. It doesn't matter if he's the odd one out again. His father is alive and breathing and that's worth any sacrifice. A few headaches are a small price to pay.


When school lets out for the summer, everyone goes their own way. It doesn't feel right, doesn't feel like a pack should feel, but Scott's the Alpha now and Stiles guesses that's his decision to make. But Stiles gets less and less sleep, and his headaches worsen, and his dad is working long hours, double and triple shifts, hardly home at all.


Stiles is bored, he tells himself. That's why he finds himself driving to Derek's loft. He's looking for something to do. It's not that he's anything like lonely or depressed , he's just… bored. Bugging Derek will solve that, and he knows Cora left town recently so Derek might be a little down and need some Stilinski cheering. And if Peter's around, trading a few quips will definitely lift Stiles's mood. Plus it's Peter , so somebody should keep an eye on him anyway.


He lets himself in, notes the new alarm system on the building. It's not activated at the moment, as if he's expected. Huh. It's easy enough to ride the elevator up to the loft, and the door is unlocked.


The loft is quiet when he walks in, and at first he thinks no one is home. But then he sees Derek's jacket laying over a chair, and Peter sitting on the couch. His eyes are closed, head tilted back as if he's sleeping, but Stiles just knows he's awake and aware of Stiles's presence.


Relief rushes through him at the sight of Peter there. He feels foolish, not even six months ago the sight of Peter Hale would have inspired anything but relief. Still, he feels some of the tension in his neck loosen. The fact that Derek is at home helps too. The stabbing pain at the base of his skull has been throbbing for long enough that he can almost ignore it. It pulses anew, however. Stiles sucks in a quick lungful of air and grits his teeth through it.


“Hello.” When he opens his eyes again, he can see Peter has stood up. There's a book in his hand, page marked by a finger. Peter moves to lean against the arm of the couch. “If you're looking for Derek, he's taking a nap.”


Stiles raises his eyebrows at the amused tilt to Peter's mouth. It isn't mocking. He's been wrapped up in school and managing the effects of the darkness hanging around him that he just now realized he hasn't been paying much attention to the Hales. He frowns at himself, trying to think past the ache in his head to the last time he saw Peter speak about anyone without some kind of bitter flavor to the words.


“What, jet-lag?” Stiles moves closer, taking the book from Peter's willing hand. It's not very old, but it doesn't have an ISBN number inside the cover. The title is worn, hard to read, and the book seems to be about defensive spells. Interesting. He meets Peter's steady gaze. “I figured that was one more thing that didn't affect the wolf-inclined.”


Peter shrugs with one shoulder. “It was a long trip, over a few time zones.”


Stiles thinks about the youngest surviving Hale and how she seemed so much older than him even though their birthdays were just months apart. He's going to miss her, at least a little. She was a nice counterpoint to Derek and Peter, a little of both but still her own person.


“Where did Cora end up anyway? She okay?” He flips the book over and hands it back to Peter with a significant look. He'll want to read through that later, if only because he needs something to distract himself with.


Peter smiles and looks over to the bedroom Derek finally walled in. Stiles follows his gaze to find Derek opening the door.


“She's okay. She's with the pack that took her in when she first got there.”


Derek looks awful, as much as he can considering he isn't actually injured. His hair is a mess and his eyes are red rimmed. The entirety of his body looks uncomfortable. Stiles thinks this must be what fresh longing looks like. He only got his sister back for a short while before she was gone once again.


“Jesus you look like shit.” Stiles says, not bothering to check himself. He crosses his arms. “Have you slept at all in like the last week?”


Peter lets out a huff of a laugh, but Stiles ignores it.


Derek walks towards the kitchen, reaching for a glass to fill it with tap water. “I was sleeping before you invited yourself in.” His words aren't pointed, sounding almost amused if still tired. Derek takes a long drink of the water then turns to look back at them. “Cora is fine. She said she's going to visit.”


Stiles almost misses the look Derek and Peter exchange when his vision starts to suddenly dim around the edges.


"Stiles?" Peter asks.


Stiles shakes his head and the darkness retreats. His head is throbbing even more now, though. He stumbles his way over to the couch, collapses against its cushions, and lets out a long breath. "S'okay." His eyes are closed against the pain so he doesn't see the hand coming. He jerks when warm skin hits his forehead, but immediately relaxes again as the pain begins to drain away. "Thanks." He opens his eyes to see Peter and Derek exchange another look.


Peter doesn't move his hand away. "That's a doozy of a headache you have," he says evenly. "Has it been bothering you for long?"


Stiles shrugs, careful not to dislodge Peter's hand. "Off and on for awhile. It's… it's nothing." He closes his eyes again and revels in the feeling of being pain free. He didn't realize how bad it was until the pain was drained away.


Derek speaks up. "Have you been dizzy a lot, too?"


Stiles leans back even more, feeling like he could melt into the couch cushions. "Mm. Not all the time." He's tired and werewolf mojo is making him even more sleepy. A little floaty, too. He barely catches Peter and Derek speaking over his head.


"Don't you think that's enough?" Derek murmurs.


"No. It'll just come back if I let go."


Derek makes a soft sound. "That bad?"


There's no answer. Or maybe Stiles is too far gone to hear as he drifts off to sleep.



"When have you seen him last?" Derek asks. He hates that he may have missed something important while out of town.  "How long has it been this way?"


But Peter doesn't have an answer. "This is the first time I've seen him since you left."


"Why do you think he came over today?" Derek asks, though he already knows the answer. Stiles smells of misery and loneliness, like a struggling, packless wolf. Not to mention the strong scent of pain that emanates from the boy. It clings to his clothes, his skin. It's not a new thing. Not just a passing human headache. "Something's wrong with him."


Peter leans in against Stiles and takes a deep breath. When he pulls away, he looks even more concerned. His eyes flick to Derek and the look there makes Derek feel as if his heart is dropping out. Peter shakes his head. "I don't know what it is, but it's nothing good."


Derek doesn't know much about human illnesses. He sits down on Stiles's other side and the boy leans close in his sleep. Peter still has his hand on the boy's head. "Let me," Derek murmurs, taking over. He's not prepared for the pain. He's suddenly reminded of pulling Cora's illness, of using his Alpha spark to heal her. If he was still an Alpha…


"He needs a doctor," Peter says quietly. "I don't know why he hasn't been already."


"He's stubborn," Derek sighs.


The sheriff would probably listen to Derek if he made a point to say something to him about Stiles. Getting in the middle of things doesn't sit well with Derek though. He knows Stiles would view it as a betrayal of sorts—insist that he can take care of himself and that's he's fine. He's fine.


Derek meets Peter's gaze over Stiles's head and says, “Chances he'll listen to us if we insist he sees someone about it?” His hopes aren't high.


Peter arches a brow. “We could capitalize on his need to keep his dad safe and healthy. What kind of stress would the sheriff be under if things got bad enough for hospitalization or surgery.” He smiles flatly. “That will be the only way to get him to go voluntarily.”


Derek cards his fingers through Stiles's hair. It's got day old product in it, crunchy in some parts and smooth in others where sweat has dissolved the chemicals. He normally wouldn't be so tactile with Stiles, as much as his fleeting urges might suggest. Stiles is hurt though, and Derek is hurting for the sister he won't be seeing for a long time.


The memory of Stiles shaking, scared and gagging over his nausea but still willing to take a bone saw to Derek's arm in order to save him springs to the forefront of Derek's mind. He traces Stiles's hairline, along where the pain echoes in his own head as he pulls Stiles’s headache away. They can take Stiles's pain away for the time being, but there's no way to end whatever is the root cause. And Derek is starting to suspect the problem, something that feels as if it's been growing for a while, is something serious.


“We'll figure something out.”


A hand lands on the back of his neck, startling Derek out of his thoughts. Peter squeezes lightly. It's a familiar gesture from long ago that they're just beginning to find their way back to.


Derek tips his head back when Peter's thumb caresses the patch of skin below his ear.


The two of them stay on the couch, sandwiching Stiles between them in an unspoken agreement, for a good forty minutes before Stiles starts to stir. Derek gets up then, thinking Stiles might not appreciate the invasion of personal space—or maybe he's just too tense after letting his thoughts run wild.


It goes against his instincts to back off, and he knows Peter feels the same. They're slowly learning each other again, after years of distance and pain, but Derek's sure this is one thing they agree on. Stiles is special. Derek meets Peter's eyes and sees the same understanding there.



Peter knows how Stiles's mind works. Knows which buttons to push. Peter can manipulate with the best, and he feels no guilt whatsoever when it comes to something as important as Stiles's wellbeing.


He's tempted to wait around at the hospital when Stiles goes in for his tests. He wants to be there, but Derek shakes his head.


"Let him come to us," Derek says, and Peter knows his nephew has a point. Crowding Stiles right now when they've already pushed him into seeking help will do more harm than good.


And so they wait, both of them full of nerves for Stiles, skittishly seeking comfort from each other. They sit together, leaning in, but neither of them has the balls to do more than just that. Peter would love to take Derek into his arms, maybe card his hand through Derek's hair. But there's so much history between them that it's left both of them unsure how to move past it.


"What do you think it is?" Derek asks, disturbing the silence.


Peter doesn't want to say it aloud. He hedges. "There's no way to be sure."


Derek turns his head and gives him a look .


"I don't know enough about human illnesses to say," Peter says. It's not a lie. Medicine isn't something he's studied, especially of the human variety. He knows enough to set bones before they heal wrong, knows how to cure poisons and he knew how to save Cora, which was worth Derek's Alpha spark, no matter what, though it puts them in a bad situation.


Derek seems to read his mind. "If I was still Alpha…"


"His best friend is an Alpha." The thought of McCall biting Stiles makes his teeth itch, though. It's wrong. It's bad enough Stiles isn't in their pack as a human. As a wolf? No.


Derek agrees, if the rumbling growl is anything to go by. Maybe Peter should be thinking of contingencies instead of just worrying about what the doctors will say.


He's kept track of Deucalion's movements. The Alpha's probably expecting someone to check up on him, too. He might even invite them in close enough to kill. He thinks he's safe because McCall let him go. He's the easiest target.


"What are you thinking?" Derek asks.


Peter looks him in the eye and speaks the truth. "We should flip a coin. See which of us should take Deucalion out and become Alpha."


Derek doesn't immediately argue, but he does raise his eyebrows.


"Don't tell me you haven't had similar thoughts." Peter looks away because the next words are hard and he doesn't want to show just how much he's affected. "Stiles smells like he's dying."


Derek doesn't answer. Peter looks back at him again. All the emotion Peter wants to hide is mirrored there in Derek's face, and it's… a relief, of sorts. A burden shared.

Stiles can't get out of the hospital fast enough. He barely even registers his dad calling his name, calling him back, as he yanks his keys out of his pocket and strides down the hall. His mind is a white static of emotion and thought, not sticking to any one thing for too long because it's too much. All he knows is he can't be here. He can't look at the tightness around his dad's eyes or talk about lunch options as if their whole world isn't being ripped apart once more.


He gets in his Jeep and starts driving, not even sure where he's going until he's pulling onto Sycamore Drive. Melissa's car isn't parked at the street, but the dirt bike is propped up by the porch. The sight of it sends unexpected relief through Stiles.


When he gets out and knocks on the door, part of him expects to be left standing there unanswered because Scott's not actually home. It would figure, with today's luck. But the door swings open and Scott gives him a surprised look as he steps back to let Stiles inside.


“Hey, whoa.” Scott's nose wrinkles when he catches a whiff of Stiles’s scent. “What happened? What's wrong?”


The earnestness in Scott's voice cracks at the careful façade Stiles managed to construct on his way over. He crumples into a chair in the living room and says, “It's not good, man.”


He waves a hand uselessly around his head. “I have a tumor? It's...the doctor said a lot of stuff.” A bone deep exhaustion washes over him as he speaks. He realizes he doesn't want to talk about it or expend the energy to explain what is happening.


He wishes Scott already knew.


Scott perches on the coffee table, confusions and concern writ over his face. “What do you mean tumor? Like your mom?”


Stiles leans back heavily and covers his face with his hands. “ No .” He sighs. “She had frontotemporal dementia. Her brain shrank and mine is growing a mass inside.” Irritation colors his words.


“Dude.” Scott murmurs.


They stare at each other for a long moment before Scott asks, “What are they going to do about it?”


Stiles chews his bottom lip, thinking about anesthesia, scalpels, and gelatinous grey blobs. His stomach turns, and he realizes he's shaking.


“Stiles? Stiles, c'mon. It's going to be okay. We're going to get through this.” Scott leans forward to place a hand on Stiles’s knee. “Calm down.”


Stiles snaps his attention to Scott, pushing the gruesome images out of his head. “Scott. Scott you've got to bite me.” He leans forward, fingers twisting together with anxiety. “Werewolves don't get sick.”


“No.” Scott answers quickly, recoiling from Stiles as if he's been burned. “I can't…I can't do that to you.”


Stiles pops to his feet and starts pacing, desperate to convince Scott. His body feels like it's vibrating with energy despite exhaustion in his muscles.


“Scott, if you bite me, make me a werewolf, this thing,” he digs two fingers into his temple, “will go away. I'll be fine.”


“Stiles, if the bite doesn't take, you'll die .” Scott stands up and spreads his arms wide in supplication. Stiles slings a sidelong look at him. “I can't do that to you. And I can't anyway, remember? If I turn anyone, hunters will come after me—after us!”


“I'll die anyway, Scott!” Stiles rushes up into Scott's personal space, eyelashes damp with tears of anger and frustration. “If you don't even try, I'll be dead in six months anyway.”


Scott wraps his arms around Stiles', holding his trembling body tightly. “Why didn't you say anything sooner?” He seems to be talking to himself. “If it had been caught early enough…”


Stiles scoffs and pushes away from Scott. “Fuck you.” His eyes feel hot. “You're my best friend and you have super senses. Why didn't you know already ? Derek and Peter figured it out!” Stiles runs his hands through his hair and backs up some more.


“Derek and Peter…?" Scott's lips twist. "Look, I don't want to kill you. What would that do to your dad? To the rest of us?” Scott stands his ground, voice hoarse. “I can't risk you dying or the pack being in danger.”


Stiles looks at Scott and sees the conviction in his decision. The fight deflates right out of him once again. His head is pounding.


“You can't risk that.” Stiles repeats the words flatly. He shrugs Scott away but Scott tries to stop him from leaving. "Leave me alone."


Stiles ends up driving around for about an hour. He wants to head to Derek's, but something is stopping him. Maybe he doesn't want to tell them. He's afraid, after Scott, what the reaction will be. Maybe they don't care. Why should they? He's not… not pack. Not one of them. Sure, they act like he's worth something but is he really?


He gets a text. Then another.


Come home.



It's his dad. Stiles is being selfish wanting to stay away, thinking he's somehow sparing his father when he already knows everything. He heard the same words Stiles did.


Stiles turns the Jeep around and heads home. He goes inside the house quietly, not sure what he'll find inside.


His heart sinks when he sees the bottle out on the dining room table. There's a glass beside it. Stiles looks away, pretends he doesn't see it, and heads for the fridge. He grabs a bottle of cold water.


"How do you feel?" his dad asks. "I got your prescription filled." Pain medication. For the headaches.


"It's not so bad," Stiles lies, even as the throbbing intensifies.


His dad finishes off the whiskey in his glass and rolls his eyes. "You're allowed to take the pills. Give yourself a break."


"It's only going to get worse. I may as well save the meds for the bad days. Since they're coming," Stiles says. He doesn't mean to sound so negative, but he's… he's done. For the day, at least. He's ready to lie down and wish for the world to go away. "I think I'll go to bed."


"It's only three," his dad points out, but Stiles is already trudging past him and up the stairs.


He strips down to a t-shirt and boxers, then grabs his phone. He may as well text Derek.




Well? Derek sounds impatient to know, so he may as well tell him.


Brain tumor. Inoperable. Dead in six months maybe three if I'm unlucky

I'm going to bed talk to you tomorrow


His phone rings then, but Stiles doesn't want to talk. He's tired. He hurts, he's tired, and he's done. He turns the ringer to silent and lies down.


Derek stares at his phone. Stiles won't pick up. He feels like throwing the phone across the room, but Peter takes it away from him to read the texts before he can.


Peter's breath hitches as he reads and he sits down hard. Then he hands the phone back and puts his head in his hands.


"We have to do something," Derek says. His uncle doesn't move, just breathes in deep and slow. Derek is irritated with him. "Peter!"


Peter slowly picks up his head. His eyes glow, blue and menacing. It makes Derek shiver. "I think it's time we visited old Deuc."


Derek swallows. "You. I… I don't want to be Alpha again."


Peters eyes go back to his human blue, and he looks surprised. "I thought I'd have to argue with you over this."


"You're the better choice."


Peter tilts his head. "I don't follow. I mean, of course I am, but what makes you think so?"


Everything Derek could say sounds stupid. "I wasn't meant to be Alpha."


"You aren't answering my question."


"I don't know what to say." It's the truth, he doesn't. "But when I think of starting a new pack, I think about doing it with you. With you as the head."


"My track record is worse than yours," Peter says wryly.


"Are you trying to get out of it or something? You should be the Alpha. It… it feels right." Derek hates having to say it, but the only other thing to say is I trust you and he's not ready for that. Even though that's what all of this means.


Peter's silent for awhile. Watching him. Listening to his breath, to his heartbeat, maybe. Finally, his uncle nods and gets up. "That's that, then."


"You'll need backup," Derek says. He doesn't like the thought of Peter going after an Alpha alone, no matter if he can catch him off guard or not.


Peter is cunning and vicious and can be trusted to take out any target he sets his sights on. That doesn't mean Derek is thrilled with the idea of Peter going off on his own. If things don't go according to plan…

"You need to be here for Stiles." Peter reaches out and wraps his hand around the back of Derek's neck. Derek melts into the touch, sighing. "Stay here for our boy. He'll need you."


"He needs you, too," Derek mutters.


They stare into each other's eyes, something passing between them that Derek doesn't quite know how to discern. Maybe a question or a promise, something that leaves Derek closing his eyes in a soft exhale.


Peter leans in and presses a kiss against Derek's forehead. It's there and gone faster than Derek can blink. He doesn't know why it makes him feel so warm.


"Be good," Peter says with a smirk, and then he's gone, sauntering out of the loft as if nothing's happened.


Derek stares after him for a long time.



It’s like the diagnosis gives Stiles’s head permission to go full throttle. He doesn't sleep and by dinner time it feels like there's a spike being slowly driven into his skull, and his vision keeps blurring if he moves too quickly. Frankly, it freaks Stiles the fuck out. He keeps the lights off in his room and tells his dad he’s going to bed early, like seven thirty early.


He does doze off for a little bit, but it’s a fitful sleep. By ten, his head hurts just a little less and his sight seems okay enough. Stiles feels like he’s going crazy stuck in his room with his thoughts and fears.


He keeps picturing his mom at the end, screaming angrily and accusing him of trying to kill her. The doctor said his symptoms could manifest in any number of ways, and losing his mind is the one he’s most scared of.


Stiles can’t do that to his dad. He can’t forget him and hurt him more than his dad has already been hurt.


When he gets there the loft is unlocked once more. For a second, he wonders if they even bother to set the lock and alarm anymore. The door slides open easily, and this time Derek is sitting on the couch where Peter had been the last time Stiles was here.


“Stiles.” Derek stands as Stiles walks inside, setting aside the tablet he’d been looking at. He moves quickly from the couch to where Stiles stops in a flash.


“Whoa, um.” Stiles takes a half step back. His vision swims just a little. “Hi?”


Derek looks like he’s trying not to reach out and touch Stiles, arms and shoulders tensed. The sight makes Stiles's belly swoop a little. He drifts just a little closer to Derek until he can feel the heat radiating from the werewolf.


“You stopped answering.” Derek complains mildly. His eyes are soft and it’s difficult to look right at them. The sympathy and sadness there is too intense for someone that has no logical reason to care about him.


Stiles crosses his arms. “Yeah, well. I gave you the quick and dirty version. Not a lot more to say, you know?”


The sigh Derek lets out is hard, frustrated. It pulls a smile to Stiles’s lips.  “The doctors can't do anything for you at all?”


“I really don't want to talk about it.” He goes for broke. “My head is killing me,” he grimaces at his accidental pun, “ literally , and I can't sleep. I don't even know why I'm here.” Stiles looks around the loft. “Where's Peter?”


Derek takes Stiles by the arm, carefully, and pulls him further inside. As he speaks, they bypass the couch.


“He had some research to do.” Derek leads him into a bedroom—his bedroom—Stiles hasn't seen the inside of yet. Well, he saw the bed before it was an actual room, but that's not the point. “Lie down.”


Stiles raises his eyebrows. The bed is haphazardly made, but it's obvious it's been slept in. The thought of crawling under those covers is sorely tempting. It's a huge bed, probably a California king, and the pillows look softer than Stiles would expect from Derek 'I Hate Myself' Hale.


“A little forward, don't you think?” But he's already kicking his sneakers off and sitting on the edge of the mattress. “I already tried to sleep at home.”


Derek doesn't bother turning on the overhead light, but there's enough light to see coming in from the huge windows. Stiles watches him unbutton his jeans. He averts his gaze for a second before looking back over to watch the denim slide down Derek's thighs. He catches a glimpse of bare ass, muscled and gorgeous.


“I can smell the pain you're in. You don't want to talk, but here you are.” Derek grabs a pair of sweats from the top of his dresser and tugs them on. Stiles is both relieved and a little sad to watch everything get covered back up.


When Derek sits down next to him, he says, “The least I can do is help you sleep.”


Stiles lies down awkwardly. Of all the times he'd idly considered what it would be like to be in this position, he can honestly say this particular circumstance had never crossed his mind. Derek's arm slides around his waist, pulling him closer to the solid warmth of Derek's body.


Almost immediately he notices the pain draining away. "That's the stuff," he sighs, relaxing as the headache melts away. His face is turned into Derek's neck and he can't help but inhale his scent.


Derek chuckles softly. "Better?"


"Mm." His body feels like it's turning to liquid. His eyes close on their own. "Don't stop," he says, or tries to say, because they come out slurred. Still, Derek seems to understand.


"I won't. Get some sleep."


Stiles inhales again, pulling in Derek's unique scent. "Smell good."


Derek makes an amused sound. "Thanks. Now sleep."


And Stiles drifts off like that, warm, secure, and pain-free.



Being an Alpha again is just as all-consuming as it was the first time, though this time around Peter isn't hell bent on revenge. As soon as he feels the power coursing through him, his first thought is to get home. To get to his pack .


He breathes through it, lets the power settle a bit, and then gets cleaned up. Killing Deucalion was a little messier than he thought it would be, but thankfully he did bring along a change of clothes. He takes a shower in Deuc's cabin, then burns it to the ground with the body inside. Well, he starts the burning process, at least. He doesn't stick around to make sure it's nothing but ashes like he should, but it's got a good start and the place is soaked with accelerant. Fire is still the best way to destroy evidence, no matter if he would like to avoid it or not. He's pushed through his fear enough to set the blaze, but he's not going to stay longer than necessary.


He heads back to Beacon Hills, the fire long forgotten in the rearview mirror. He has better things to dwell on.


Like getting to Derek. And later, saving Stiles.


Peter has plenty of time to think on his way back home, and a lot to think about. He has a second chance at being Alpha now, and he's not going to squander it. He's going to protect his pack, no matter how small it is. It'll be a true pack, though. When he bites Stiles -- and he will, this time -- he'll be making a loyal, clever, beautiful beta who'll be an asset to his pack. It won't be like his mistake with McCall.


And Derek…


He can't help the pleased growl he makes at the thought of Derek being his. Derek will be bound to him more tightly than he ever has been, but Peter won't take advantage. He won't lord his power over his betas, won't try to overpower their wills. None of that posturing bullshit, either. He's going to be a good Alpha this time, worthy of the title. His pack, though small, will be strong and tightly knit. They will be able to face anything, as long as they're together.


This thinking takes him all the way back to Beacon Hills, all the way up to Derek's loft. He lets himself in and follows the sound of their resting heartbeats to Derek's room. When he gets there he has to stop for a moment, just to look. He rests against the doorframe and takes in the beautiful picture his boys make, snuggled together the way they are in the large bed. He's tempted to just crawl into the bed with them, but he stays where he is for the time being.


Stiles wakes first, possibly feeling the presence of someone else. Derek rouses because Stiles does, proving he's in tune with him. Stiles sits up and Derek follows suit. Peter smiles when Derek gives him a questioning look.


"Hello, boys," Peter says, and flashes his eyes.


"You did it," Derek breathes. His eyes flash back in recognition, and Peter can smell his relief.


"Wait, Peter's an Alpha again?" Stiles says. He rubs his eyes tiredly and looks at Derek. "You knew about this?"


"We… talked it over," Derek says.


"How long did you sleep, Stiles?" Peter asks, finally walking into the room. He loves the way Stiles and Derek's scents have mingled here. He has to hold back from immediately scenting them both, adding himself to the mix.


Stiles picks up his phone and frowns. "Um. Was I really asleep for five hours?"


"You needed it," Derek says.


Peter nods. "And you look like you could use more sleep, even. You're welcome to stay."


"Did you just invite me to stay in a place that isn't even yours?" Stiles asks, sounding boggled.


"He's right," Derek says. "You're welcome here. Anytime."


"Are you only being nice because I'm dying?" Stiles asks, and though his words sound confrontational, the boy looks down at his hands and bites his lip.


Peter and Derek growl in tandem.


"You're not dying," Derek says.


Stiles laughs bitterly. "Pretty sure I am, dude."


Derek huffs and looks at Peter. Pleading.


Peter moves closer and sits on the edge of the bed. He gives Stiles plenty of room, not wanting to crowd him at this moment. "What Derek means is that we don't think you have to die. We know you don't want to do that to anyone, especially your father. Not to mention to yourself - you have so much living to do, still. We want you to be part of our pack, as a werewolf. Let me give you the Bite, Stiles."


Stiles's eyes go impossibly wide and vulnerable. Derek wraps an arm around him from behind and rests his chin on Stiles's shoulder, looking up at Peter as he speaks. "Please. We don't want you to die. And we'd be lucky to have you in our pack."


"Did you-" Stiles cuts off and swallows hard. He takes another breath. Then, "Did you go out and get Alphaed up just for this?"


"I'd been thinking about it for awhile, but your illness is definitely what made us move now," Peter answers truthfully.


Stiles frowns. "But why would you care… about me? "


Derek whines softly, distressed. Peter sighs and contemplates killing everyone who ever made Stiles feel inferior. He leans in now and touches Stiles's chin with a finger. Tilts his head up so the boy will meet his eyes. "None of that. Your lack of self-esteem is ridiculous and I won't have it. We care, and we want you. Understand?"


Stiles frowns harder and shakes his head. "Not really."


"You're already pack, if you want" Derek mutters. "We just… want more. We want pack bonds with you. We want to see you as a wolf. We want…" He trails off and looks at Peter for direction.


"We want you to be strong. To live."


"This is really weird," Stiles says, almost to himself. "I didn't even think you guys liked me."


"I admit, Derek doesn't show his emotions as well as he should, but he's working on it," Peter says teasingly. Derek smiles and rolls his eyes.


"I need to think about it," Stiles says. "Let me go home and think about it."


Peter picks up Stiles's hand and turns it over, baring his wrist. He leans in and Stiles's heart beats faster, but he doesn't pull away. Peter places a chaste kiss on the pulse there, and gives him a secretive smile.


Stiles huffs and smiles tentatively back.



After Stiles leaves, Derek looks after him, listening to him go down on the elevator, then to the sound of the Jeep starting and driving away. It's easier than addressing the elephant in the room.


Or rather, the Alpha.


"He's going to take the Bite. Don't worry so much," Peter says.


It's not what Derek was thinking about, but he nods anyway. "He's smart. And his father will agree being turned is the better option."


"Of course he will," Peter says. Then he tilts his head and smirks. "So, no congratulations on my new status?"


The easy teasing catches Derek off guard. He wants to laugh, but he smothers it. He feels his lips twitch, though.


And Peter takes it as an invitation to get closer. Derek can feel the power radiating off him. Deucalion had been a powerful Alpha, though that power was tainted by the means with which he acquired it all. Derek is fiercely glad he's dead, after everything he did. The so-called 'Demon Wolf' should have died long before this. But Derek is grateful he was available. He hates to think how long it might have taken Peter and him to find another unworthy Alpha.


"What are you thinking about?" Peter murmurs.


"Did he put up much of a fight?"


Peter grins with sharp, white teeth. The sight should make Derek wary. It doesn't. "Nothing I couldn't handle."


"Are you injured at all?" Derek looks Peter over and sees no indication.


"Already healed up." Peter rucks up his shirt, showing off smooth skin and defined muscles. He touches his side. "Had an injury here but it was gone before I stepped out of the shower."


Without much thought, Derek reaches out. He can't see where the injury had been, but for a moment imagines it there under his fingertips. It's not a good place for a wound, so close to Peter's stomach. Deucalion must have missed his target. Derek sucks in a breath, imagining if he hadn't.


Peter covers Derek's hand with his own. "I'm fine."


Derek doesn't know what he would do if he lost another pack member. Peter squeezes his hand as if he understands exactly what Derek's thinking. It's… it doesn't make sense. Derek killed Peter once without knowing he'd be back. He cried over it, later, but he still did it. Cut what he thought was his last tie.


"There's nothing about this that isn't complicated," Derek murmurs. He looks up, right into Peter's eyes.


"The wolf isn't complicated." Peter is even more self-assured now with the Alpha power. It's already settled into his skin like it belonged there all along. It's heady to be so close to. Derek's wolf wants to submit now, to show its belly and whine in supplication.


"What does your wolf want?" Derek asks curiously.


Peter doesn't look away. "I think you know."


Derek swallows hard. This thing between them has been slowly, steadily growing for a while now, loaded looks and lingering touches. He doesn't pull away when Peter's hand slides up to wrap around his wrist.


Peter holds his gaze when he brings his hand up and kisses the thin skin over Derek's veins the same way he had done to Stiles earlier. Derek stays still, allowing Peter to fit his fangs around his wrist carefully, drawing a quiet whine out of Derek. He briefly imagines Peter biting Stiles there, breaking the skin and drawing him into their pack.


Derek sucks in a breath, heart beating quickly and blood rushing downwards. His skin feels hypersensitive. The smooth surface of Peter's fangs and the damp warmth of his breath brush over Derek's wrist for a long moment as he looks on. Without realizing it, his other hand has lifted to press against the back of Peter's neck.


He watches Peter close his eyes and inhale deeply, like he's savoring Derek's scent. Then Peter retracts his fangs and drops one, two, three kisses up Derek's forearm.


His own fingers spread and push through the hair at the back of Peter's head to draw him closer. Derek wants more, wants to have everything they are missing, he wants to build it together.


He wants Peter. He wants Stiles. He wants their pack.


A deep rumble bubbles up from Peter in answer to the low, hopeful whine Derek let out. Then Peter is turning and closing the last bit of distance between them.


The kiss is a question Derek answers readily. Yes, he says with his lips, his mouth. He sinks into it without a fight, and Peter proves he wants more than just a taste as he growls hungrily. The sound sends a thrill through Derek, a shock of desire that has him grabbing on and pulling Peter closer.


The kiss, the embrace, they just serve to make Derek greedy for more. He's been holding himself back, but now it's all breaking free. His need rears up like an animal caged for too long.


"I've got you," Peter says, voice rough with feeling. His eyes flash red and Derek bares his throat without thought. Peter leans in, tongue licking flat against his jugular. Then he guides Derek until he's flat on his back and kisses him again. Harder, this time. Like he wants to take Derek apart with his lips and teeth and tongue.


And his hands. They roam over Derek's body as if he's not sure where he wants to touch more. Derek whines and presses up into every caress, starved for touch, for pack, for Peter.


"Look at me," Peter says as he pulls back. Derek opens his eyes, dizzy with anticipation. Peter's eyes are still red with burning power. "That's it. Tell me what you want."


How does he expect Derek to think? He's beyond articulating, can only gasp out one desperate word. " Alpha …"


Peter growls hungrily, approvingly again and dives back in. Derek tugs him closer and hooks a leg over one of Peter's. He wants to be as close as possible.


“Yes,” Peter groans when his hand slips between them to press at the front of Derek's sweats.


He's hard and a damp spot has already spread along the fabric where the tip of his cock strains. Derek can smell Peter's answering arousal, feel the hardness grinding along his thigh.


It's too much and not enough. But Derek arches his back and gasps when Peter's fingers tuck below the elastic of his pants. It's hard to think, but Derek does his best to make it easier for Peter.


Peter tugs the pants down then does the same for his own. Derek moans when the scent of Peter's desire becomes stronger, then moans again when he feels the evidence. Peter's bare cock smears precome across Derek's skin, and Derek can only think how it's not enough, how he wants to be scented and marked and owned.


Peter shifts so that they're lined up side by side. Wraps a sure hand around them both. It's too dry for the slide to be easy, but it's just what Derek needs. Their combined precome does ease the way a little, and the thought of being so close, so intimate makes Derek's cock dribble more into Peter's hand. It's still far from slick, but it's not so rough.


Peter kisses him again as he moves, thrusting against him and into his hand, slow and steady. It's so good Derek could cry, and all he can do is hang on. He shifts up, thrusting alongside Peter in desperation, but Peter shushes him and maintains the slow, easy movements.


"Just like this," Peter whispers. His lips drag down the side of Derek's face, across his jaw, all the way to the juncture of his shoulder. His teeth sharpen as he presses them against Derek's skin.


Derek moans and pushes up into it until he feels fangs. Peter's hand tightens around them and he strokes faster.


“Please.” Derek clamps his eyes shut as he wraps his arms around Peter.


The entire world seems to zero down on this moment. Peter's teeth, promisingly sharp, drag over his shoulder, and Peter's grip is looser to accommodate the slide of their cocks. It's getting slicker by the moment, and Derek breathes in the scent like he never wants to forget.


“Peter. Alpha.” Derek pleads. He's so close.


He can feel the roar that rips out of Peter when those fangs slice into his skin. Derek’s spine bows at the feeling, and he comes hard between their stomachs as his vision starbursts along the edges. He growls in answer, claws tipping and dragging up Peter's back before Derek holds him close.


He feels the moment when the pack bond solidifies, becomes more than the faint thread it's been. In his mind it shines brightly, a gold rope binding him to Peter as beta to Alpha, and… more. Tears prick his eyes as he's overwhelmed by the feeling, by Peter's emotions. He can feel him there. His pride, his strength. His happiness.


His love.


Derek clings, undone by his Alpha and everything between them. Slowly, he relaxes his hold as he gets his breath back. It takes long minutes, but Peter doesn't seem to mind. His Alpha licks the bite he made, sending a shiver down Derek's spine.


It feels so good to have a place again. To feel like he belongs. Distantly, he realizes Peter is pulling away, but he's content enough that it doesn't matter. He knows his Alpha isn't about to leave him alone. Sure enough, Peter's only adjusting his body so he can lie down beside Derek. He tugs and Derek moves easily into his arms, head on his shoulder. The come is drying on them, and Derek thinks maybe they should clean up a little before they fall asleep, but on the other hand he likes the scent, the strong sense of ownership and belonging it signifies.


He drifts off, but his last thought is of Stiles. Of how his presence is the only missing piece of their puzzle.



Stiles could barely sleep any after he got back home last night, and it had very little to do with his headaches or nightmares. Every time he tried to force himself to clear his mind, he pictured Peter standing in the doorway and his eyes flashing Alpha red. He keeps playing that interaction over and over.


Waking up with comforting weight of Derek's arm around his waist. Peter looking so pleased and open as he stood there. Peter and Derek’s assurance that they want Stiles in their pack, as one of them.


It makes Stiles's stomach knot up and excitement rush through him. He lets himself imagine the future again. Pictures of what-ifs flying through his mind in a flash. Going to college, graduating. Going on road trips with his pack, celebrating milestones.


All the things that his current life course will never give him. Stiles knows by six the next morning what he wants to do.


He needs to talk to his dad first. Going to Scott in a desperate rush had been a mistake, and he's grateful for his friend's reluctance now. He can do things right because he has options.


Stiles starts by making breakfast: egg whites, whole wheat toast, and strawberry jam because he's not a total monster.


When his dad comes down a half hour later and sees him plating the food, an indecipherable expression crosses his face for a moment. Then he smiles.


“Hey, what's this all about?” He takes his seat at the table and reaches for the pepper shaker. “Did you sleep last night?”


Stiles slides into his own chair, suddenly ravenous. His appetite is always a little hit or miss thanks to his ADHD medication, and it's really been lacking lately, but today seems to be promising in more than one way. He pours them both some orange juice.


“I got some pretty good sleep, actually.” Stiles says, thinking about the long nap he had in the loft.


There go those butterflies again.


“There's something I need to talk to you about.” Stiles stuffs a forkful of eggs into his mouth.


His dad looks up from where he's spreading jam over his toast. “What's up?”


Stiles steadies himself for a second, suddenly nervous. He's not quite asking for permission, but he wants approval. The importance of what happens next weighs heavily on him.


“I want to take the Bite.”


His dad stares at him for a long moment. “From Scott?” His tone isn't disapproving and almost sounds hopeful.


“Uh, no. He...didn't think it was the best idea.” Stiles takes another bite of eggs. “From Peter.”


That does draw some skepticism. “Peter? Peter Hale?” He waves his butter knife around a little as he talks. “I thought only alphas could turn people into werewolves.”


Stiles sits back in his seat. “Yup.”


“But Peter isn't an alpha anymore…” His dad narrows his eyes. “Right?”


“He's an alpha again. The point is, he offered to turn me. Dad, this could cure me. Diseases and tumors...none of that affects werewolves.” Stiles sits forward again. “I really want to say yes.”


His dad is silent, watching him as he thinks.


After several beats, his dad says, “And you're willing to let Peter Hale be the one to do it? Why can't Scott? We know we can trust him. Peter... he's not a good guy, Stiles. You know this.”


Stiles scoffs. “At least he's willing to be proactive here. Scott refused to agree when I asked him.” He stays at his eggs. “He said he didn't want to be the cause of my death if it didn't work.”


That seems to surprise his dad. “He knows you're...what the prognosis is?”


“Yes, dad. I told him.” He shrugs. “Peter is my only chance right now, and things have changed. He's not like he was the first time he was alpha. He's not crazy.”


His dad shakes his head. “He doesn't have to be crazy for me not to trust him. He's a shady character, Stiles, and I'm not thrilled with the idea of putting your life in his hands.” He raises a hand when Stiles opens his mouth to protest. “That said, if you are sure you want to give it a shot, I support you.”


Stiles gets up quickly and pulls his dad into a hug. “I love you. Thank you.”


His dad's arms go tight around him, hands twisting in the material of his shirt as if to hold him there forever. “I love you, son.”


When they part, after a long moment, his dad says, “If there was any other way to keep you safe and give you a shot of having a life, I would choose it. And if Peter does anything to hurt you afterwards, I'll put a bullet between his eyes.”


“I'll be sure to let him know.” Stiles chuckles as he runs a hand through his hair. He can't believe how simple this is turning out to be.


He thought it was going to take a lot more to convince his dad to okay the plan. It's a huge relief to have his dad on his side in this. He's got his dad, Derek, and Peter.


Scott isn't going to be happy when he finds out. But, Stiles thinks angrily, fuck him. He would let his best friend die.



When Peter wakes up, he's wrapped around Derek with his nose pressed against the back of his neck. He inhales deeply and mentally reaches for the gold pack bond that cements their connection. It's humming quietly, content.


Peter kisses Derek's shoulder and unwinds his arm from around his waist. It’s still early yet, and Derek deserves to sleep in. Maybe he'll make some breakfast for the two of them.


In the shower, Peter washes the dried come off his stomach. His mind flashes back to the night before and the incredible feel of their bond strengthening. Derek's climax had been intense enough that it dragged Peter over the edge right along with him. Even in the humidity of the shower, Peter can smell the two of them.


He wraps a hand around his half hard cock as he remembers Derek's eagerness and submission. The Alpha power only heightens Peter's feelings. He can't stop thinking about what it will be like when he finally slides inside Derek and claims him in the last remaining way.


Peter has plans though, and he wants to savor it, so he lets himself go and continues cleaning off as his mind wanders to the question mark that is Stiles.


There is no reason for Stiles to say no to his offer. He could ask Scott for the same, Peter recognizes that. The thought of that True Alpha taking Stiles away from them makes something hot and angry run through Peter. He growls, claws dragging over his scalp for a moment as he washes his hair.


Derek is there however, pulling the shower door open, and stepping inside to join him. “What's wrong?” He slides his palms down Peter's back soothingly.


“Nothing I can't handle.” Peter turns and cups Derek's jaw. “I didn't mean to wake you, darling.”

He finds Derek's mouth is just as sweet in the morning as it was last night.


“Scott?” He guesses right because he knows Peter better than anyone. Derek raises his hands to rinse the suds out of Peter's hair.


“He's a child .” Peter spits the words out, defensive even when he has no reason to be.


He knows Stiles will choose him over Scott. He remembers the cadence of Stiles’s heart beat when Peter made the offer, how hopeful Stiles smelled.


Derek doesn't say anything and instead just finishes washing Peter off. The water soaks Derek as well, sluicing off the remnants of their coupling. The wolf inside Peter mourns the loss, but he's comforted by the knowledge that Derek is here, wants him, has accepted him.


An unexpected vehicle driving up to the building pulls Peter back to the present. He makes a considering sound when he recognizes who it is.


“I see Stiles has already spoken to his father. That's promising.” Peter leans in to kiss Derek on the mouth one more time.


Derek looks a little less confident. “As long as he's not here to tell you to go to hell.”


Peter chuckles. “Finish your shower and join us or go back to bed. I'll handle the sheriff.”


John doesn't look surprised when Peter opens the door before he can knock. He gives Peter a curt nod and steps inside. “Peter.”


“Sheriff Stilinski.” Peter can't help but smirk a little. “What bring you to our humble abode?”


“Cut the crap. I know you're an Alpha again, and I know you offered to turn Stiles.” His expression is grim as he crosses his arms.


Peter lifts a brow, waiting for the shovel talk that John is so clearly here to deliver. “It's nice to see father and son talking,” he comments.


John sighs heavily. “I want you to do it.”


That is the last thing Peter expects to hear. “And what does Stiles want?”


“He’s making this decision on his own.” John closes the distance between them. “I'm here to make sure you know that that boy is my everything. I want him to live and thrive.” His gaze is intense as he continues. “If you are his only shot at getting through this tumor thing, then I want you to do it.”


“Well, that is certainly moving.” Peter says, “I can't do it until Stiles tells me he wants it though.”


That earns him a skeptical look from John but at least the sheriff nods after. “Of course. If this happens though, if you turn him into a werewolf he'll be your responsibility—not some tool for you to use as leverage against Scott or whatever else comes along. Stiles is a person. He is important.”


Peter is growling lowly before he even notices, offended at the implication that he doesn't hold Stiles dearly. “We're pack. He's already important, sheriff .”


Derek appears from the bedroom then, smelling fresh. His scent hits Peter and calms him down.


“We won't let anything bad happen to him, if we have any say over it. We want what's best for him as well.” Derek promises, coming over to stand just behind Peter’s right side. “If you don't trust Peter yet, trust me in this.”


That seems to appease John who nods again. “Fine. I need to go start my shift.” He turns back from where he'd started walking towards the door. “And just for future reference, Argent gave me a case of wolfsbane bullets. I'm not opposed to filling your skull with them if you do hurt my son.”


Peter smiles, amused and impressed in equal measure. The sheriff has always been frustrating, but he respects him anyway.


Tipping his head in acknowledgement, Peter says, “I'll keep that in mind.”



Stiles's thoughts are going in a million directions as he drives to the loft. Even though thinking makes his headache worse, he can't help himself. His brain is working overtime, sending jerky thoughts/feelings/memories.


Everything's happening so fast.


First, he was sick, and Derek and Peter were worried. He never had time to process the fact that he has two badass (hot) werewolves actually caring about him, apparently more than he ever could have imagined. The pain draining, the scenting - subtle, but unmistakable, and the… the care. It was there in their faces, in their voices. Derek touched him like he was worth something, like he was (dare he think it) precious. And Peter wasn't much different, which was even weirder.


But Stiles didn't have time to dwell on any of that because the next thing he knew, there were tests and a diagnosis and he was dying. Dying.


Again, he didn't have time to process. He barely had time to accept it, even. Part of him is still in denial, he guesses, though that's hard when your father looks at you with such devastation in his eyes. That hurt more than anything, seeing all that pain on the face of the most important person in his life. Stiles may not have a lot, but he holds on to what he has. His dad is the same way, for the same reasons. They lost almost everything when Claudia died, and losing more is just unthinkable. Stiles tries to imagine their situations swapped, tries to put himself in his dad's place. What if his dad was the one with the tumor? What if he was the one-


He rubs at his aching head and wishes for a werewolf pain drain. It would make it easier to drive. To think.


Stiles turns down Derek's street and takes a deep breath. He knows he would do anything to keep his father alive and safe. Has already sacrificed himself to do so. He knows his dad feels the same, and after their conversation this morning he's even more determined to live.


For a flash of a moment, he remembers how he went to Scott first and was denied. Stiles isn't sure how that's going to change their friendship. When he needed Scott the most, his 'brother' just couldn't look past his own feelings, his own fears, to help.


The loft is just ahead of him. He knows this is it, that he'll go in and ask for the Bite and this time he won't be denied. Because Peter isn't only prepared to do it, but he wants to.


Peter wants to do this, wanted it enough that he went out and got the Alpha power just so he could save Stiles. Stiles is positive he's not the only reason for Peter's power-up, but it was a major contributor, he's sure.


He parks and rubs his head. Then he walks in and takes the elevator on autopilot, still thinking hard. Even though he ate breakfast, his stomach feels empty for some reason. Fluttery. He wipes his sweaty hands on his jeans and notices they're trembling. He's not worried, not scared, but he's full of nervous anticipation.


Derek and Peter are waiting for him when he opens the elevator door. They must have heard him coming. Derek is standing stiffly, and he looks more nervous than Peter. In fact, Derek looks about as nervous as Stiles feels.


Peter, on the other hand, looks more relaxed, though there's a glint in his eye that suggests he's not as calm as he looks.


Stiles swallows. Waves awkwardly. "Hi."


Derek glances at Peter, then says, "Come here."


Stiles moves without thinking. He's been thinking enough. Derek pulls him close and then puts a hand at the nape of his neck. Immediately, Stiles feels the pain flowing away. He can't see, but he's sure thick black lines are flowing into Derek's hand, his arm.


He sighs and slumps a little. "Thanks."


Derek hums and lets Stiles melt against him. Stiles's eyes flutter closed for a moment. Not long, he doesn't want to miss anything. But the relief is so vast he just wants to savor it.


When he opens his eyes, he looks over at Peter. His future Alpha. There's an inscrutable expression on Peter's face, and Stiles wishes he could decipher it. It's not something he's seen on Peter before, so maybe that's why it seems so strange. Peter's eyes are soft, fond. Affectionate? Proud? Is Stiles reading too much into this?


He doesn't want to dwell. He has more important things to do. He clears his throat and pulls away slightly so he can look at both of them. "Is the big bitey offer still on the table?"


Peter's eyes flash red and he smiles. "Yes. Whenever you're ready."


It's such a stark difference from Scott's reaction. Peter steps closer and puts a hand at Stiles's shoulder, close to where Derek's hand is. Stiles is struck by the rightness of the moment.


"I'm glad Scott said no," Stiles blurts out.


Derek squeezes the back of his neck and Peter lets out a low growl of… approval? It's hard to translate werewolf speak sometimes. But that will change soon.


Holy shit, Stiles is going to be a werewolf.


"What's wrong?" Derek murmurs, and Stiles sucks in another breath.


"Just.. I've been thinking about this as a means to an end, the whole… I get to live thing?" Stiles explains. "But I haven't had a chance to think about what that'll mean. In the long run. I'm going to be a werewolf." He lets out a nervous laugh.


Derek frowns and opens his mouth, and Stiles thinks he's going to ask if he's okay. But Peter speaks first.


"You'll make a magnificent wolf," Peter says. His voice is low and even, but there's power in it. Authority. Stiles isn't even turned yet and he wants to submit.


He feels himself go red. "Or the worst wolf ever," he mumbles. What if it's like Cap's powers, and everything about him is just enhanced? What if he becomes supernaturally klutzy? What if he doesn't fit in with their pack? He doesn't think he could stand that.


Derek pulls him close so that his back hits Derek's chest. "Whatever you're thinking, stop. Peter's right. You'll be an amazing werewolf."


"And I'll be part of your pack?" Stiles asks. He knows the answer already but he needs to hear the answer.


Peter's eyes flash again. "You already are, sweetheart."


The endearment makes Stiles want to squirm. As it is, he flushes again, and he hears Derek breathing hard, inhaling. Great, he thinks. Derek can smell that.


He can't help but be slightly aroused. He's being held and touched by an insanely hot werewolf while another insanely hot werewolf calls him sweetheart and looks at him like he's an ice cream sundae with a cherry on top. Oh god.


But Peter doesn't seem to mind the smell. He moves in closer and cups Stiles's over-warm cheek. "We've told you. We want you in our pack. We want you ."


Even if Peter doesn't mean it like Stiles is thinking, even if-


That thought is cut off with a gentle kiss. Peter kissed him! Leaned right in and brushed his lips against Stiles's slightly slack mouth. Stiles sucks in a breath as his eyes fly wide open. "What-"


"No pressure," Derek says quietly, right next to his ear. "We don't want you to do anything you don't want."


Peter pulls back and looks smug. "Ah, but he does want."


"Maybe we should talk about this another time," Derek says drily.


"What? Why?" Stiles asks, confused and very turned on.


Peter laughs softly and strokes a thumb against Stiles's cheekbone. "We have other things to talk about. Like your decision." He steps back just enough to give himself room, then takes Stiles's wrist in his hand, like he did the other day, like he did the night he first offered the Bite. He doesn't ask again, though. The question is clear without words.


Stiles licks his lips nervously. "When is the best time? I mean, the full moon is in a week, should we wait until then? Or after, so I have time to get used to the wolfiness?"


"The best time is when you're ready. And you're ready." Peter sounds confident. "Aren't you?"


When he speaks, his voice comes out nearly even. “Yes. I, uh, texted Dad to let him know I was saying yes.” That draws a smile from Peter.


“He came by this morning, giving me his blessing as it were.” The wink Peter gives Stiles is enough to make him blush all over again. “Not quite what I expected from him, but it was nice.”


Derek’s hand splays over Stiles’s stomach, and Stiles is very aware of it as well as the fact that Peter is still holding his wrist up with red burning eyes. Being caged by two werewolves should make him feel scared or angry, yet all he feels—aside from major arousal—is safe .


He nods. “Cool. So are we going to do this thing or—” Stiles cuts himself off with a sharp gasp as Peter’s face shifts, fangs elongating and features morphing into something more canine.


The grip Peter has on his hand never wavers, never tightens too much.


Now. ” Peter says hungrily.


Derek keeps his arms around Stiles when Peter lets his wolf shift forward. It’s a beautiful sight to see. Derek would bet in his Alpha shift Peter isn’t deformed or hulking like he had been the last time he was Alpha. He's sure Peter's grown since that time.


He hooks his chin over Stiles’s shoulder when Peter draws Stiles’s wrist closer to his mouth. “It’s going to hurt, but not for long.” He speaks quietly into Stiles’s ear.


“Okay,” Stiles says faintly, eyes trained on Peter.


In the back of his mind, Derek searches for the tether that connects him to Peter. It glows golden in his mind’s eye, the edges shaded a brilliant red for a moment as Peter’s fangs carefully bite into the delicate flesh of Stiles’s wrist.


All three of them gasp simultaneously. Stiles looks at the blood, swallows hard, and whispers, "Oh, shit."


At least Derek is there to catch him. His weight is barely anything, no burden at all as Derek tightens his arms around Stiles.


“I’m okay. I’m okay.” Stiles slurs as his free hand grabs onto one of Derek’s arms. “I just don’t like blood.” He gulps.


Derek presses his face into the back of Stiles’ head and inhales deeply. His scent is clear and promising as the first spiderweb-thin thread springs up in his mind. It’s gold too, shimmering just enough that Derek can grasp onto it and tug it closer to the one connecting himself and Peter. He works to twine it, imagines them inseparable.


Peter pulls back slowly, blood smeared over his lips and down his chin. Stiles’s heartbeat is fast but strong. Derek maneuvers Stiles so he’s in one arm while Derek reaches for Peter with the other. The copper scent of blood is strong between them.


“Mine.” Peter whispers hoarsely, mouth pressing against Stiles’s temple as his eyelids slip shut over the red of his eyes. When he opens them again, his irises are still red, staring directly at Derek. “Mine.”


Derek’s wolf whines, and he grips the back of Peter’s neck tightly drawing him into a kiss. Stiles’ blood is salty-sweet on his tongue.


“Whoa,” Stiles says faintly between them. “So kissing, huh?” The arousal which had bloomed up when Derek first pulled him close had waned when Peter bit him. It washes over Derek anew. “That’s…”


Derek jolts when Stiles almost faints again after lifting his arm up to inspect the place Peter’s fangs cut into him. “Hey, let’s sit you down. You need water and something to eat.”


“We’ve got you, Stiles,” Peter promises as he helps Derek half carry Stiles to the couch.



Peter's wolf is howling in victory. He has family again. Pack. Stiles is asleep for the moment. Fainted, more like, but that's fine. Derek still seems a little nervous as he hovers near the boy.


Peter reaches and runs a hand through his nephew's hair. "The Bite will take."


Derek nods but doesn't take his eyes off Stiles. Peter huffs. Derek's always been a worrier, though they both are apt to be careful with what they have. They've both lost too much not to.


Stiles's eyes flutter open and he smiles sleepily. Then they widen and he looks at his wrist, which still isn't healed. Fortunately, he doesn't faint again, though he does look slightly nauseated at the sight of the wound. "How long until we know it worked?"


"Everyone's different," Peter tells him. "But you'd probably be rejecting it already if you weren't going to turn."


"You'll turn," Derek says, and it sounds like he's ordering Stiles to be well. To heal.


Stiles winces and touches his head. "Ow. Headache hasn't gone away, though. I think… yeah, it's even worse, now."


Peter pulls the pain. It's strong, stronger than before. Stiles isn't exaggerating.


Derek shoots him a look. "Why is his head hurting more?"


"My guess is that the tumor is healing. Breaking down as he turns," Peter says. He leans in and kisses Stiles's forehead. His arm is throbbing where it usually only tingles a bit when he pulls pain. Luckily he's used to discomfort and doesn't let Stiles see how bad it is. He's sure Stiles would protest him pulling it out if he did.


He can't hide his scent, though. Derek gives him a sharp look and places his hand next on the other side of Stiles's neck, sharing the burden.


"I didn't think of that," Stiles murmurs. He sighs, relaxing. "Thank you for doing the thing."


"There's no sense in you being in agony when we can ease it," Peter says quietly. "Here." He moves and the others move with him, rearrange themselves on the sofa until they find a comfortable place, Stiles in the middle with his head lolling against Derek's chest, facing Peter so the Alpha can watch over them both.


Pack , Peter's wolf howls. Derek smiles, picking up on Peter's emotions through their bond. Stiles watches with half-lidded eyes, leans into Peter's hand where it cups his cheek now.


"Pretty woozy," Stiles mumbles. "Werewolf mojo is good."


"You can sleep if you want," Derek says.


Stiles protests. "I don't want to miss it."


The pain Peter's pulling becomes stronger. He locks eyes with Derek and sees it there, too. Peter isn't sure how much more they can take. Stiles frowns, then gasps, squeezing his eyes shut tight. Then suddenly, the pain is gone. Peter tries to pull it, but there's none to take.


And then Stiles opens his eyes. The change isn't complete yet, but he he has the beautiful amber-gold eyes of a beta. Peter flashes his own, feels their bond snap into place. For the first time in years, Peter feels complete again.


He has Derek. He has Stiles. He doesn't need anything else.



The first two days Stiles is pain free, he keeps expecting a migraine to hit him out of the blue or for his vision to go weird or for his stomach to revolt. None of that happens however, because Stiles is a werewolf.


It's awesome.


He's setting the table at the loft for dinner when Peter comes up behind him to set a glass down, pressing unnecessarily close to Stiles's backside. When two hands come up to frame his hips as Peter leans in and nuzzles him behind the ear, Stiles leans back into the embrace and sighs contentedly.


“Dinner is almost ready.” Peter murmurs as his fingers sneak under the hem of Stiles's shirt.


“I thought you were supposed to be in the kitchen doing the actual cooking?” He teases his Alpha and can feel the shape of Peter's smile against his skin.


“Derek is more than capable of handling things for a minute.” He gently urges Stiles to turn in his arms until they're looking at each other. “Hello.”


Stiles flashes his beta gold eyes just because he can and because of the satisfied look he receives from Peter. Peter, whose eyes glow red in response. The pack bond in Stiles's head is solid, connecting Derek, Peter, and Stiles so closely that sometimes it feels as if the three of them could never be completely separated.


The notion makes Stiles crave more anyway.


Peter hums quietly when Stiles leans in to kiss him. He lingers, drinking in his Alpha and his love, pack mate, and family.


Derek clears his throat when he walks into the room, but he's smiling when Stiles pulls away from Peter. He can only get a few inches between them with Peter's hands wrapped securely around his hips the way they are.


“I should have known.” Derek rolls his eyes as he saunters closer to Stiles and Peter. His eyes drag slowly up and down them as he approaches.


Stiles can smell the desire coming from both his pack mates.


The rumble of a very familiar engine draws his attention away however. The anxiety that Stiles has always been prone to doesn't spike quite as badly as he's used to. Peter assured him that while his ADD and anxiety wouldn't go away because they aren't really diseases , they would be easier to manage. He hasn't even needed to take his medication since the Bite. Still, Stiles's stomach knots up just a bit as Scott walks into the building and heads for the loft.


Peter has already moved to position himself between the door and Stiles, Derek taking his place just to the right. It all looks so casual to Stiles, yet he knows they're responding to a perceived threat.


“Guys, it's Scott. It'll be fine.” He attempts to assure them, moving out from behind his pack so he can answer the door when Scott knocks.


Scott is scowling when the door slides back and he smells betrayed. “Stiles!” He stalks into the living area, rounding on Stiles so that his back isn't exposed to Peter and Derek. “You took the Bite? From him?” He flings an accusatory finger in Peter's direction.


Stiles sighs heavily. He doesn't want to have this conversation here, or anywhere. He should have told Scott sooner, but he's been floating along on a kind of werewolf honeymoon feeling.


He knows Scott has reason not to trust Peter, but that doesn't make everything so black and white for Stiles. Not anymore, and not for a while now.


Peter steps forward before Stiles his.mouth. “You should have done it yourself.” He sneers. “But of course, you needed to keep that precious morality of yours intact—never mind the fact that your so-called best friend was dying.”


Scott grits his teeth for a moment, glaring at Peter before looking back at Stiles. “You can't honestly believe this is going to turn out well. Peter is a manipulator and he's going to betray you. Look what he did to his own family!”


“I know what he did, but I know why he did it. And it wasn't all his fault. He was trying to survive, Scott. The same way I was when I came to you and asked you for the Bite, which you denied me.”


“I didn't want to kill you!”


Scott looks almost beside himself, face tense and eyes shining. It twists at Stiles, knowing his friend truly believed he was doing the best for everyone involved.


“I was going to die anyway. I had a matter of months—painful, terrible months where I would quickly lose myself and leave my dad behind, completely alone. The least I thought I could expect from you was a chance at surviving.” Stiles's eyes heat with unspilled tears.


He can see Peter and Derek in his peripheral as they shore up next to him, bookending him between their solidarity. The bond in his head is solid, and Stiles clings to it.


“So you ran to him? Who did he even kill to become an Alpha? Stiles, did you think about who was hurt simply so you could risk your life?”


Stiles snaps then. Scott is clearly grasping at straws with his logic, convinced he knows everything and is right about it all. He doesn't owe Scott an explanation.


Derek's hand slips around his, fingers squeezing reassuringly.


“Not that it is any of your business, but I took care of some trash in order to become Alpha.” Peter steps forward casually, hands clasped behind his back and shoulders straight. “Stiles came to me after I offered him the bite for a second time.”


Scott sputters at this new bit of information. “…”


“Now, you should be aware that you are uninvited here and as such, I have the right to get rid of you any way I choose.” Peter drops his arms to his sides, claws sliding out.


Scott's eyes flicker red for a moment like he's considering taking up the challenge. Then he looks past Peter to Stiles. He sighs. “I'm glad you're okay.”


Crossing his arms, Stiles snorts to himself. “Yeah.”


For one long second, Scott stares at him pleadingly before he shakes his head and walks out the door.


Stiles sags against Derek, who holds him easily. "That could've gone better."


Peter doesn't turn around to talk until they hear Scott's motorbike take off. Stiles figures it must be some kind of territory thing.


"You did well," Peter tells him. Derek rubs Stiles's arm and nuzzles the back of his neck. It's comfort and care and everything Stiles needs right now. Well. Not everything. But then Peter moves and joins in with the scenting and Stiles sighs, happy to be between his packmates.


The thing is, Stiles knows Scott cares. He's just… Scott. You either have to accept him as he is, or leave him alone, because he'll never change. He'll never see how he's wrong. Peter and Derek don't seem to get that, so they're easily frustrated with him. Stiles… doesn't know how to feel.


Well, he feels good at the moment because Peter is kissing his neck and Derek's rubbing against him slowly, hand straying close to his dick but never right where Stiles needs it.


They haven't talked about this… thing. This threeway sexy comfort thing they have going on. They haven't had sex together, not yet, but Stiles is sure that's where this is headed.


He just isn't sure what it all means . Maybe it's just a pack thing, though he's fairly certain Derek never did this with his pack before. And he's sure he'd remember if Peter put the moves on Scott back in the day.


So it's more than pack.


"Are we… together?" Stiles asks, and bites his lip. Maybe they aren't supposed to talk about it. Maybe now Peter and Derek will realize how young and inexperienced he is and decide they don't want anything to do with him after all.


Peter and Derek both still. Derek makes a soft noise, and Peter says, "Only if you want, darling."


Stiles's heart feels like it's going to beat out of his chest, but he pretends it isn't, no matter if they can hear it or not. Hell, he can hear it, but he decides to ignore it. "Hmm. Do I want the two extremely hot Hale men to be my boyfriends? Such a tough question." He rolls his eyes just in case they didn't catch his blatant sarcasm.


Derek huffs a laugh and Peter smirks. Probably because Stiles called him hot.


"And, I mean, you're both… you make me feel safe, and you both smell right , and I don't want to be with anyone else so… if that's okay, yeah. I want that." Stiles swallows and hopes he doesn't sound pathetic.


Peter looks at Derek. "How do you feel about this? You haven't had a lot to say."


"You both know how I feel," Derek says. And he's sort of right, because their pack bonds help them feel emotion, but it's not foolproof. Plus Stiles needs to hear words.


"Humor us," Peter says.


Derek licks his lips and suddenly looks very shy. "The two of you are everything I want." He looks back and forth between Stiles and Peter, his eyes clear and honest. It's enough to melt Stiles's heart.


Peter must feel the same, because he leans in and presses a kiss to Derek's lips. But then the kiss turns filthy, and Stiles is left staring. They're both so gorgeous, so… perfect. The moment is perfect. He doesn't want to intrude.


But Derek grabs his hand and tugs him close, then Derek's kissing Stiles and it's deep and breath-stealing and amazing. Stiles feels it like a jolt of electricity, his whole body lighting up. Then he feels Peter's hands on him, guiding him to press against Derek while Peter kisses and sucks at his neck. Derek's hard against him. Not just his muscles but his cock, insistent and big and Stiles… he's never had sex but he wants .


"Go into the bedroom," Peter tells them, pulling away. It's an easy command to follow, and Stiles's excitement is like a buzz in the air. He can smell how turned on Derek is, and Peter's just as bad.


Stiles and Derek kiss some more on their way to the bedroom. Stiles can hear Peter putting food away for later and setting the loft's alarm system. Good. There won't be any interruptions.



Peter joins them a minute later, finding his boys pressed up against the wall as they kiss. They haven't even made it to the bed yet, not that he can blame them. They're gorgeous together.


He comes up behind Derek and reaches past him to tug gently at the hem of Stiles's shirt. Derek makes a pleased sound and parts from where he'd been kissing Stiles to turn his head and meet Peter's mouth instantly.


“That's never going to get old,” Stiles says breathlessly. Even though Peter isn't looking, he knows Stiles is.


Peter slides his tongue against Derek's, mouths parted just enough to give a flash of the movement. He chases Derek's tongue with his own before he cups the back of Derek's neck and pushes him down.


Stiles makes a gratifying squeak when Derek goes willingly to his knees and Peter leans in to cage Stiles against the wall with his arms. “Here's the plan.”  


Derek's head is tilted back against one of Peter's thighs, waiting, and Stiles's eyes are wide, pupils dilated. Peter glances at his open, wet mouth. He can't help but go in for another kiss, sucking on that sinful bottom lip of Stiles's.


He starts again. “Derek is going to suck you off until you come.” Peter takes Stiles's hand in his, threading their fingers for a moment before guiding him to cup Derek's jaw. “Then we're moving to the bed.”


Derek turns his head enough that Stiles's thumb slips into his mouth, a dirty move that makes both of the other men groan. Peter is hard in his jeans already, and he'd like to be the one pushing into his nephew’s mouth, but they've got plenty of time for that and more.


“But if I come…” Stiles's gaze is trained on where he's experimentally pulling and pushing his thumb out of Derek's mouth.


Peter licks up the side of Stiles's mouth before nipping at his earlobe. “Believe me, sweetheart, you can get hard again.” He kisses along the skin behind Stiles's ear and says, “You can say no. Anytime.”


Stiles shakes his head adamantly. “No. No, I'm good! Totally down for this!”


Derek's eyes are shining with happy lust. It's a good look on him. He looks to Peter first, though, before leaning in and nuzzling Stiles's clothed dick.


Stiles moans and scrambles to unzip his jeans. He accidentally knocks Derek in the jaw with the back of his hand, and then he starts apologizing profusely. Derek… laughs. It's a beautiful sound that Peter hasn't heard enough of, at least not since the fire. He hopes to hear more of it in the future. Now that they've cleared the air, put the past behind them, and added Stiles to the pack, there's plenty of reason to be happy. Peter looks forward to the rest of their lives together.


Derek takes over getting Stiles's jeans open and pushed down. Peter leans in and pulls Stiles's double layer of shirts off over his head. For a moment, Peter and Derek both pause to take in the view they've been denied so far. Stiles is lean and smooth, and the distinctive moles of his face dot his torso as well. The trail of hair that leads from his navel to his cock looks irresistible. Derek leans in and follows it with his nose and lips, letting out a soft growl.


Peter runs a hand through Derek's hair again, pulling just a little at the ends, reminding him of his task. He knows from experience that Derek will get lost in just scenting if he's not hurried along. Which of course isn't a bad thing, but Peter's impatient. He wants Stiles and Derek in bed, under him, wrapped around him. He has plans.


" Derek ," Stiles whines. "Tease me later."


Peter smirks, knowing Stiles will come to regret that particular request. Peter would like nothing more than to tease Stiles, edge him to the point of tears. 'Later' will be another day, though. He doesn't think Stiles is ready for that.


Derek licks at the tip of Stiles's cock. Peter leans in to kiss and whisper into Stiles's ear again. "Have you ever gotten a blowjob before, darling? Ever had someone suck you down and make you come?"


Stiles shakes his head as Derek takes him in. He whimpers and shakes his head. "No. Never. Oh, wow, that's… Wow . Holy fuck."


"Derek's going to make you feel so good," Peter whispers. He sees Stiles's knees buckle and reaches out to steady him before he falls. It's easy, natural, to slide around Derek to hold Stiles up, and it's a better view. This way he can see it all, watch as Derek takes Stiles apart.


Derek bobs his head a few times, moaning, and Peter smiles. "You're doing so good, Derek. That's it. It won't take long if you keep doing that. Take him deep." Then to Stiles, "He likes it when you fuck his mouth. Do you want to?"


Stiles whimpers. "I don't… I can't…"


Derek reaches up to take Stiles's hips in his hands. He pulls Stiles forward once as he takes him deep. Peter knows exactly how good that feels. The sight makes him growl in approval.


"You can, baby," Peter says, voice coming out rough. He sounds wrecked and he's not even involved much yet. But seeing this, watching his nephew take their new beta apart, is making his dick throb.


Derek moans and pulls Stiles forward again, then again, until Stiles is pushing in on his own. He's careful at first, obviously unsure.


"You won't hurt him. He likes it. He wants you to show him how much you want him," Peter tells him.


"I do," Stiles groans, and then thrusts deep. He's long enough that his cock head probably hits Derek's throat, but Derek's so good at this he doesn't even pause. Peter watches Derek's throat work around it, and Stiles cries out. Peter holds his boy up when he almost falls again.


"Good boy," Peter murmurs, carding fingers through Derek's hair.


Stiles gasps. "Me or him?"


Peter chuckles. "Both of you. You're both good, my perfect, beautiful boys."


Stiles thrusts again, and again. Derek helps keep him steady with hands on his hips, and Peter sucks a mark against Stiles's neck. It won't stay as long as he'd like, since Stiles isn't human anymore, but since Peter's an Alpha it will stick around at least a few hours. Peter can't wait to see Stiles naked on tangled sheets, covered in come and love bites, satiated fully. Peter's cock twitches in his jeans, clearly ready to get in on the debauchery.


"I'm gonna come," Stiles chokes out, trying to pull back.


Derek moans and chases his cock. His eyes are glowing, a thin blue ring around dilated pupils.


"He wants it," Peter whispers in Stiles's ear. "He wants to taste you, wants you to come down his throat. Or if you'd rather, all over his pretty face."


"Oh shit," Stiles hisses, bucking his hips and fucking into Derek's mouth. "I can't… I want…"


"Do it," Peter commands. "Come for us."


Stiles lets out a high-pitched whine and comes in Derek's mouth, and Derek closes his eyes like it's the best treat he's ever had. Like he has to savor it. He doesn't swallow though, which Peter's grateful for.


Peter drops to his knees as soon as Stiles sags against the wall. He takes Derek's face in his hands and kisses him deeply, licking and sucking at the come in Derek's mouth. It's his first taste of Stiles and it's perfect. Salty and thick and Derek moans against him, sucking back, wanting some of his own.


"Wha…. oh my god ," Stiles chokes out, then hobbles/stumbles over to the bed to sit down. He's panting hard, but once he can breathe almost normally he says, "You two are going to kill me."


Derek and Peter exchange an amused look. Peter smirks at Stiles. "Only a little, darling."


Stiles kicks out of his jeans and underwear, then rolls over into one of the pillows. "That was so totally an orgasm joke. Oh my god, Derek, that was incredible."


Derek and Peter stand as one, watching Stiles. He's laid out on the bed now, naked and spent. Derek pulls his shirt off over his head with one hand.


Stiles rolls to sit up, watching intently, his eyes growing wider the more flesh Derek uncovers. Then Peter decides to give a show as well, because he's not about to be left out.


He tugs his own shirt off and pops the button on his jeans while staring at Stiles. The relief of sliding his zipper down is almost enough to distract him from the hungry look in Stiles's eyes when he pushes his jeans all the way down.


“Neither of you wear underwear?” Stiles asks while Derek puts a knee on the bed to climb up next to him. “I guess that saves on the water bill—less to wash.”


Derek smirks down at him when he leans over him to kiss the bruise Peter left on his neck. “They're not really necessary.”


Stiles pushes up into the kiss, tilting his head like a daisy looking for sunlight, as his gaze slips back to Peter who is stroking himself slowly.


"You're both really… endowed ," Stiles says, voice going up to a higher pitch.


"Nothing to be scared of," Derek says. He takes one of Stiles's hands. "Want to touch?"


Stiles gives him a look. "That is the stupidest question I've ever heard. Yes. Yes, Derek, I want to touch your dick." He lets Derek guide his hand to his cock and wraps his long fingers around him. Peter's cock twitches, envious.


Derek puts his hand over Stiles's, pushes up into the touch.


Stiles licks his lips, looking back and forth between Derek's cock and Peter's. Then he lets out a soft laugh. "This is like going to Disneyland. I don't know which ride to get on first."


Peter skims out of his jeans and joins them on the bed. He leans over Stiles and kisses him, deep and filthy until the boy is whimpering under him. Derek pulls away to sit up at the head of the bed.


"Roll over," Peter tells Stiles.


Stiles's eyes go wide but then he does as he's told. He laughs when he comes face to face with Derek's dick. "Can I…?"


Derek raises his eyebrows at him and nods. Peter doesn't mind that he's not the first to get Stiles's mouth. There's so much more to explore, like the perfect curve of his ass. He runs his hand down Stiles's back to his rounded cheeks, pulling a moan out of him. Stiles pushes up into the touch as if he's starved for it.


Derek moans then, and Peter can hear the wet sound of Stiles's tongue on his flesh. He looks past Stiles’s shoulders to where Derek's cock is dark and wanting as Stiles licks up the length to mouth experimentally at the head. Derek's sitting against the pillows with one heavy hand resting on the back of Stiles’s head as he watches his cock slowly disappear between Stiles’s lips.


“Do you like that, Stiles?” Peter asks as he frames the boy's hips between his hands, enjoying the feel of Stiles tilting his ass up a little more.


Stiles tries nodding his head with a mouthful of cock as his eyes slip shut. It's a beautiful sight. When Stiles pulls away to lap at the slit at the end of Derek's cock, he says, “I haven't done this for real, but I've done a lot of research.”


Peter doesn't deny himself the urge to press his own length against the curve of Stiles's ass and rut a little between his cheeks. He wants inside now, but he can be patient when the reward is right.


“Anything in particular you would like to try?” He uses his thumb to hold the tip of his cock down so it runs directly over Stiles's entrance. The flutter of the muscle there is so inviting as Peter's precome smears across it.


Stiles moans. “Oh God. Like, everything.” He drops his forehead to Derek's things and mumbles out, “Fuck me, please.”


That tears a growl out of both Peter and Derek. Peter doesn't even have to ask it of him before Derek is handing over the bottle of lube from the bedside table. He flips the lid open and lets some of the liquid pour out onto his fingers.


“I have every intention of doing just that,” Peter promises as he rubs his fingers together to warm the lube. He watches Derek run a hand over Stiles's head, hears Stiles let out a happy rumble.


Opening Stiles up is a pleasure in itself. Their boy is so eager, so responsive. Muffled noises escape as Stiles works his mouth over Derek. And as much as Peter is taking his attention, he doesn't forget about Derek. It's not until Peter is slipping in a third finger that Stiles starts panting against Derek's thigh instead of sucking his dick.


Peter thinks back to his passing thought of edging Stiles to tears some day. They're definitely going to have to try that. Stiles is just too pretty and too needy not to wreck him in bed. But first, Peter wants to stake his and Derek's claim.


"Good, you're doing so good," Derek says when Peter twists his fingers inside Stiles one more time just to see their boy shudder. Peter runs his other hand down the elegant stretch of his back and murmurs the same.


Stiles huffs. "Just get in me, I need you to-"


He's cut off by the loss of Peter’s fingers. Stiles squeaks when Peter slowly pushes inside, this time with his cock.


“Oh fuck. Ohfuckohfuckohfuck.”


Stiles’s forehead pushes forward, moving away from Peter for a moment, against Derek's stomach at the intrusion. Peter can feel him consciously relaxing around him though. He smooths his hands down Stiles's flanks and stays still while Stiles adjusts.


“We've got you, baby,” he murmurs, glancing at Derek who has a concerned wrinkle between his eyebrows. “If you need—” He starts to offer to back off, but Stiles shoves his hips back that last little bit.


“Ngh. No, just…” Stiles swallows loudly, his scent is thick with desire still. “Just please . I need…” He shakes his head before taking Derek's cock back in his mouth almost desperately.


Peter got lucky with this one. He meets Derek's lust-dark gaze with his own and revises that thought. He got lucky with both his boys, doesn't deserve half of what he has now. Not that it matters. He's going to hold onto them with all he has.


He fucks Stiles slowly, not wanting to jostle him off Derek. It's difficult to hold back when all he wants to do is wreck him, but his control is rock solid no matter how good Stiles feels.


But then Stiles pulls off Derek with an obscene slurp. "I'm a werewolf," he pants. "Peter. C'mon, I won't break."


Peter growls. Stiles is hard and leaking on their sheets and he sounds desperate . The scent and sound of him make Peter want to mark him up, bite him, stake his claim all over again. He tightens his grip on Stiles's hips, fangs dropping.


So much for control.


He releases Stiles's hips so he can lean down to stretch over his back, dragging his mouth lightly along Stiles's skin until he can fit his fangs at the nape of his beta’s neck. His hips grind in roughly. Peter reaches up with a hand to cup his palm around the front of Stiles’ throat so he can feel the way Derek's cock works inside.


Blood coats his tongue when he bites down just enough to break the skin. He closes his eyes and inhales the scent, swallowing down the taste of him. Stiles chokes beneath him, body shuddering, and the bond between them brightens for a moment before Peter pulls his fangs back enough to lap at the small wound left behind. It will be healed by the morning, but he's pleased to see it there for now.


Pleasure rolls off Stiles, and Derek's hand lifts from the back of Stiles’s head to wipe at the blood on Peter's lips. Peter sucks a finger into his mouth, looking at Derek whose eyes have shifted from their natural hazel to a sliver of brilliant glowing blue around his pupils.


He wants Derek too.


Bracing a hand on Stiles's waist, Peter lifts up enough that Derek can meet him for an open kiss. The echo of the other night when Peter first gave Stiles the bite bounces between the three of them.


“I'm gonna come,” Stiles whines breathily. His check is resting on Derek's thigh again and fresh tears have spilled over his skin. He's flushed. “Oh God, please don't stop.”


Derek works his own cock now, head tipped back and revealing the vulnerable stretch of his throat. The sight of Stiles begging between them and Derek taking his own pleasure drives Peter’s thrusts forward, harder and harder. When Derek climaxes, his come paints across Stiles's face, and the scent of it's enough to make Peter go wild. He wraps a hand around Stiles's straining cock, finally giving the boy a little friction, and Stiles sobs out a noise that's pure bliss.


Peter strokes faster, growling. He's close himself but he wants Stiles to go over the edge first. It doesn't take much more. Peter's voice, low in his ear, is what tips Stiles over. "Come, baby." And Stiles does.


Bruises bloom under the hand at Stiles's hip. Peter can't seem to help himself. He's lost control now at the end, and he slams inside Stiles once more with what can only be classified as a howl.


“Fuck,” Derek says quietly from where he's slumped against the pillows now. His fingers clumsily brush Stiles's hair back off his sweaty forehead.


Peter’s claws flex as Stiles clenches around his cock, unknowingly greedy for every bit his Alpha has. Peter already wants to fuck him again, maybe with Derek pressing in alongside him. It would take some time to prepare, but it would definitely be worth it. He files the thought away on the rapidly growing list of things he needs to do with his pack.


Peter pulls out slowly and Stiles makes a sleepy noise of protest. Derek laughs quietly and leans down to kiss him.


Derek and Peter work together to make Stiles comfortable on the pillows Derek had been moments ago. They clean him up and settle him between them, petting and praising him. Derek gets Stiles a cool bottle of water, and Peter sends him a warm look for it.


Derek will get more reward later, after they've had some rest.


Stiles hums as he presses his face into Peter's chest. "That was awesome." Then he yawns, and Peter feels his heart expand.


The bruises on his hips are and neck are already a bit lighter. Derek's fingers trail along the one on Stiles’s throat softly. For the briefest of moments, Peter's mind flickers to the fact that this came so close to never happening.


"Yes, it was." Peter reaches over and twines his fingers with Derek's. "Perfect."



Stiles walks to the edge of the clearing and looks up at the sky. The moon is bright and swollen, shining down on the preserve quietly. He's been here before, but never like this and never with such a surprisingly peaceful feeling spread through his chest. When he inhales, he can smell the old wood and the life within.


“Two weeks ago, I was dying, and now I'm here, stronger than ever.” He's still in awe. When Peter steps next to him, Stiles looks over at him. “Thank you.” He looks past Peter to Derek. “Thank you both.”


Peter's hand curves around his wrist gently. “Anything.”


Derek gives him a smile and dips his head slowly. His eyes glow. The full moon is pulling at him, just as it pulls at Stiles.


Stiles grins happily, then tips his head back. The howl he releases feels completely natural, and Peter and Derek join in as well.


Pack. Stiles never knew how important it could be, or how it would fill him up inside in places he never knew were empty. Now he has strong, bright bonds linking him to his packmates. He has a place between them. He has care and love, because even though they haven't said the words, he can feel it thrumming through their bonds.


He's alive and thriving. He couldn't possibly ask for more.


He takes off running, laughing and daring Peter and Derek to chase him. He knows they're stronger, faster than he is, but he can still lead them on for awhile. It's fun, and it's been too long since he's just had fun.


And when they catch him, well, who knows what will happen?