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Peter opens the door for Derek before he scratches to come in. He watches his nephew skulk in after his long night of howling and running through the forest. The sun is just peeking into the cabin, thin pink light filtered through trees and the crown glass windows. It's quiet except for the song of early birds and insects and the soft thud of Derek's paws on the rug.

"Done acting like a wild animal, are you?" Peter frowns when Derek's ears go flat. "I was just teasing, nephew. Don't take it so seriously."

Derek huffs and lies down a careful distance from the crackling fire.

"I'd appreciate it if you'd change," Peter says, pronouncing the words carefully. He knows it's a sore topic, but he's getting lonely without someone to converse with.

Derek turns his giant black head away and stares into the low flames. So much for conversation.

Peter sighs and sits at the table. "I could make breakfast. Pancakes and bacon. Not good for a wolf, but an excellent meal for a man." He'll make porridge if it's just for himself. He doesn't have the energy to make a full meal for one.

He knows now that he's just talking to hear his voice. Nothing will really come of it. Derek's scent is thick with sadness, even as a wolf, and is therefore having one of his bad days. No amount of cajoling will get him to change forms.

Peter's tempted to transform with his nephew. To go outside and chase down a meal instead of standing in front of a stove to cook. But it's too tempting. Peter has his own demons, not the same as Derek's but tormenting all the same. It would be so much easier to just give over to the wolf and forget his more human problems.

And perhaps he'd never change back.

He sighs, takes another look at Derek's huge wolf form, and goes through the motions of making tea, instead.


Around midday, Peter goes outside. Checks the stockpile of firewood. Walks around the cabin slowly just to stretch his legs. There was a time when he couldn't walk, could barely move, and sometimes he has to remind himself of how far he's come. The scars pull at his skin when he moves but they aren't debilitating. He could run, if he were inclined to do so. But he looks up through the canopy of trees and sees the blue of the sky leaching to white and knows it's not a good time.

"Storm's coming," Peter says when he returns. Derek pads closer and leans against his side. Peter slides a hand into Derek's thick coat and holds on. At least his nephew isn't feral. They have enough problems without adding that to the mix.

Weather in the forest is hard to predict, but Peter's gotten good at it. It helps to have heightened senses. The coming storm shouldn't last too long, at least. As long as they close the shutters and bar the door, the wind will pass them by without incident.

Peter doesn't mind storms. Derek stays in and becomes more tactile. He's always been like that, even as a pup. The sound of thunder never sat right with him, and he'd cuddle close to whoever was nearby. Before the fire, there was never a shortage of packmates. Now there's just Peter and Laura, but their Alpha doesn't live with them. Won't put herself through this, she says.

Derek whines and licks a scar on the back of Peter's hand, no doubt feeling Peter's grief through their pack bond.

Peter huffs. "Thank you," he murmurs, and runs his hand through Derek's fur.

That night, as the wind shakes the trees and buffets against the south side of the cabin, when the lightning cracks the sky wide open, Derek transforms. Peter realises he hasn't seen his nephew human in some time, and in the candlelight Peter sees his beard has grown thicker than it's ever been. He looks like a wildman.

Peter keeps his comments to himself, though, just motions Derek closer. As much as he looks like a man, broad in his shoulders and chest, muscular and hirsute, he whines like a pup for attention.

Peter feels his already battered heart break again as he opens his arms and Derek burrows against him. He doesn't say a word, just whines like a wolf. Peter knows he always has trouble coming back to human these days, when he spends so much time in his other form. It's up to Peter to coax him back if he wants to hold on to him for longer than the storm.

"I know it's because of the weather, but I'm so proud of you for shifting." Peter keeps his voice low, just a murmur. He could whisper and Derek would hear him through the sound of rain on their roof, but the timbre and tone of his voice is better for Derek when he's transitioning back to his human mind. "I hope you decide to stay for awhile this time. I miss you. Is that silly? I know you never really go anywhere, that you're here, but it's so good to hold you like this, Derek."

Derek swallows thickly and holds on tighter. Peter runs his hands over Derek's bare shoulders. He rarely wears clothes when he transforms, because he doesn't stay for long. Peter knows Derek will probably shift back once the storm is over unless Peter can cajole him into staying longer.

Like this, Derek's emotions are more complex, and Peter breathes in deep to memorize them. Derek allows Peter to scent him, palms running over his smooth skin. Derek sighs quietly and noses at Peter's neck.

Peter opens his mouth to say more, but then clicks it closed again. He was about to say something ridiculous like Please stay. I need you. I love you. Please.

But Peter doesn't beg, not even for things he needs more than breathing.

The next day, Derek slips back into his wolf form and Peter swallows all his disappointment. He's used to its bitter taste by now.


Derek comes back to the cabin early one day, scratching at the rug and whining.

Peter narrows his eyes. "You could use your words."

Derek growls lowly, ears pinned back. Then he turns around, headed back out the door.

Peter puts his book down with a sigh. "This had better be good." He follows Derek for some distance, becoming more curious with every step. The ground is soggy from last night's rain and there are puddles scattered here and there. Part of Peter wants to dig his claws into it and run.

Finally, they reach their destination. Peter smells the difference before he sees. It's a human. The scent makes the hairs on the back of his neck raise. Not because there's any danger, but because he hasn't interacted with a human in some time. Not since shortly after the fire.

But Derek is nosing at the… Oh please don't be a dead body. Peter steps closer to get a better look. Derek noses at dirty skin with a whine and Peter sighs. "What have you found, nephew?"

This close Peter can hear the heartbeat. It's faint but fast, like a rabbit or some other small prey animal. The human is asleep, though. Peter crouches down beside him. He's wearing nothing but a short, filthy tunic. The tunic appears to be stuck to his skin, which isn't as dirty as Peter first thought, but instead is littered with bruises, both old and fresh.

Peter reaches out to touch and Derek growls at him. Peter narrows his eyes. "I want to check for fever."

Derek makes a soft snort and backs off another foot. He's watching avidly, though.

The moment the back of Peter's hand touches the human's skin, he knows something is wrong. The boy is burning up, much too hot for a human. Peter remembers the humans in their pack, back before the fire. He tries to remember what is best for them. It's been so long.

Peter gives Derek a long look. "You want me to carry him back to the cabin."

Derek doesn't answer, but then he doesn't need to. His eyes give him away.

"Fine," Peter says, and gathers the young human into his arms. He's light, and his head lolls until it rests against Peter's chest. The boy is helpless. Vulnerable. It just serves to make Peter angry, though he isn't sure why.

The walk back to the cabin is near-silent. Derek trots along beside Peter, now and then trying to get a better look at the boy in his arms. Peter rolls his eyes at Derek's mother-henning.

"He needs a cool bath," Peter says after he lays the boy down on their bed. Derek whines. "Oh, no. I'm not doing it. This human is your responsibility."

Derek huffs and gives the unconscious boy a long look.

"It could be good for you," Peter says quietly. It's a long shot, but if this is important to Derek, maybe…

Maybe Peter will get his nephew back.


Derek shifts. Peter lets out a long breath and looks over him critically. The beard looks even more out of place in the daylight. Peter's not accustomed to Derek's face covered in such a way, but then again he's not used to Derek's face anymore. It's been awhile since he's been shifted to human form.

Derek stands awkwardly for a moment, looking down at the unconscious boy on the bed.

Peter takes pity. "Put some clothes on and I'll get a bowl and cloth for him."

Derek looks down at himself, frowning. Peter can tell he's not yet completely human in his thoughts, if he ever is.

"Get dressed," Peter repeats. He points to a drawer in the dresser where some of Derek's clothes are. Of course they probably don't fit. Derek's much larger than he used to be.

As Peter readies a bowl of water for the boy to be cleaned with, he hears a noise. He turns and spies Derek staring into the mirror over the dresser. He looks spooked. Peter puts the bowl down.

"Yes, that's you," he murmurs. He puts his arm around Derek's wide shoulders. "Quite a difference, isn't it? You haven't seen yourself in years."

Derek meets his eyes in the mirror. His thick eyebrows frown over his hazel-green eyes, human eyes Peter has missed tremendously.

"Thank you for coming back. Even if it wasn't for me."

Derek turns and tucks his head beneath Peter's chin. It's awkward now, not at all easy the way it used to be when Derek was younger and shorter. His beard is strangely soft against Peter's skin. Peter reaches up and touches it, cradles Derek's face carefully.

Derek whines.

"You'll have to let me shave this off one of these days." Peter sighs and pulls out a dresser drawer. "Your clothes will be tight. I'll have to ask Laura to bring some new ones in your size. I'll measure you and see what you need."

"No," Derek rasps.

Peter wants to weep in relief. His nephew can still talk. He's still there. Being wild hasn't changed him that much. "I know you don't want to see her. It's okay. You can fuck off to wherever it is you go when she comes." He always lets him. He knows it's not good for the boy — the man, now — but Peter always lets him anyway. "Let's at least get you into some trousers, though."

On the bed, the human boy murmurs something unintelligible.

Derek looks over worriedly but Peter calms him. Rubs his shoulder. "He's fine, just has a fever. We'll make sure he gets better."

Derek nods. Maybe he doesn't remember how frantic Talia would get when one of the human pups would become ill. Maybe it's better he doesn't think about those times. They've lost so much.

Peter helps Derek into trousers. Derek's old ones don't fit, but Peter has a pair that's larger and they fit well enough. They forgo a shirt for now.

Peter ends up helping Derek with their foundling's bed-bath. Derek's clumsy as a human, not used to having fingers and thumbs. Peter tries to keep talking, though he'd rather just let Derek talk when he's ready. But it's been so long since Peter's had Derek like this, and he's impatient to get him talking again.

"Look at the bottoms of his feet. He's not used to going without shoes, and he traveled far in his bare feet. The closest village is miles through the forest. He must have been desperate to come this way, and without shoes or adequate clothing."

Derek says nothing, but he reaches out and traces a particularly bad bruise on the human's ribs.

"Yes, I see," Peter murmurs. He touches the area himself and tenderly feels for a break. "Not broken, but we should wrap the ribs anyway." It's been some time since he's had to take care of things like this.

Derek's veins go black as he pulls pain. Peter doesn't think it's his imagination that the human breathes easier then.

Together, they manage to get the boy clean and slightly cooler. Peter wraps cloth around the possibly-cracked ribs, tight enough to hold everything in place but not too tight. At least he hopes not.

"He's probably hungry. The stew in the pot should do, but it'll be better if we water it down for him. It's too hearty for him in this condition."

He catches Derek smoothing the boy's hair back from his forehead. Peter wonders what it is about this human that has captured Derek so thoroughly. He's been wary of humans since the fire.

They both have.


The human's fever breaks by the next morning, though he doesn't yet wake yet.

"Come over here," Peter says, pulling a chair close to the window. "You need a shave."

Derek gives him a dubious look but does as he's asked. Peter starts by trimming the beard close to Derek's face with scissors. Then he lathers the skin with a brush. Derek doesn't make a sound when Peter brings the straight razor to his face. The trust is humbling.

"Thank you for letting me do this," Peter says. "It's hard to get a good look at you with all this."

Peter hears the human's heartbeat pick up, but Derek just closes his eyes, letting Peter tilt his chin this way and that, trusting Peter to know what he's doing. Peter hasn't shaved a face other than his own in years, but he remembers when he first taught Derek how. Sometimes Derek would just ask Peter to do it for him. They've always been close.

By now, Peter knows the human is awake. He doesn't know why he doesn't stop what he's doing to greet him. Maybe he wants the boy to see the intimacy of the moment. Maybe he wants the human to know Derek is his, first and foremost.

Peter completes his task by wiping away the excess foam from Derek's face with a cloth. He smiles. "You look very handsome."

Even Derek's ears are pink when he smiles.

Peter looks over at the bed. The human is lying very still, but his eyes are wide. Peter tilts his head. "Derek, why don't you greet our guest."

Derek turns quickly to see. His heartbeat picks up. He hasn't interacted with anyone but Peter in so long, he's probably scared to do so. He looks ready to bolt, but Peter puts a firm hand on his shoulder. "What's your name?" he asks the human.

The boy nervously licks his lips, eyes flitting from one of them to the other. "Stiles." His hoarse voice sounds painful. Peter picks up a glass and fills it with water. Instead of giving it to Stiles, he hands it to Derek.

Derek holds the water and looks up into Peter's eyes. Skittish. Peter nods. "It's okay."

So Derek takes the water over to the bed. He frowns. "Sit up."

Stiles's eyes go even wider. He's skittish too, Peter sees. Is probably wary of both of them. But he's also very thirsty, and his thirst wins out. He sits up carefully, looking down where he's bandaged, wincing. Once he's in a stable sitting position, he reaches out for the water.

He gulps it down.

"Slowly," Peter coaxes, but the boy doesn't listen. Peter sighs and shoves a bucket into his lap right before the boy vomits the water back up.

"Listen," Derek says to the boy. It's almost funny. Peter knows his nephew must sound harsh to the human.

"O-okay," Stiles says, and shivers. Derek huffs and pulls a blanket up around the boy's shoulders.

Peter takes the forgotten water glass and fills it again. Hands it back to the boy. "Slowly this time. Small sips."

The boy obeys this time around. He takes a couple sips of water, then asks, "Where am I?"

"In our cabin in the forest," Peter says. He sits on the end of the bed. Stiles watches him warily. "Derek found you."

Stiles's eyes flick up to Derek. "Um. Thank you."

Derek huffs. Peter knows it's because he doesn't know what to say. He seems gruff, though.

Peter answers for him. "You're welcome."

Stiles gives him a small smile. "Why… Why do you both live so far out here?"

Peter smiles. He feels his scars pull on his cheek when he does so. He knows he looks ghastly like this, that it accentuates his burnt face. He doesn't care right now. "People haven't been kind to us."

There's no pity, no horror, in Stiles's gaze, though. He looks understanding more than anything. "Not to me, either."

Derek makes a soft, subvocal whine. Peter wraps an arm around him. "Derek wants you to stay for awhile."

The boy should still be wary, maybe even more so now, but he looks hopeful instead. "Really? I can stay?"

"If you'd like." Peter looks at Derek. Wonders if he'll add his voice.

He doesn't, but Stiles asks, "And… what's your name?"

"I apologize. I'm Peter Hale." He takes a mocking bow.

It makes Stiles smile. Peter doesn't know why he likes that.


The cabin is small, just one room with different areas, but Stiles doesn't seem to mind it. In fact, he seems strangely happy to be staying with Peter and Derek. Derek, on the other hand, isn't used to sharing his space with someone else or spending so much time in human form, so he gets grumpy easily.

Stiles doesn't seem to know if he should be leery of Derek or try to cheer him out of his bad moods. He chatters, nearly mindless with it. Peter thinks the boy is intelligent, that he uses his words as a shield. He's not sure Derek's figured that out yet.

Then again, when Stiles isn't looking, Derek keeps shooting him glances like… well. Peter supposes he's falling in love. Peter's not sure if he should feel relieved or jealous.

He's mostly grateful.

But Derek is restless, and eventually he'll need to shift and run. Stiles knows something is wrong, but not what. And Peter is just waiting.

Finally, Derek stops pacing the cabin's length and huffs. He gives Peter a familiar look.

"Go on, then," Peter tells him.

"Wait, what, where are you going?" Stiles asks as Derek makes for the door. "Wait, I'll come, too." He tries to get out of the bed, which isn't happening. He's still weak.

Derek glares at him. Points. "Stay."

Stiles looks hurt. Peter's worried the boy might cry. Derek's face does something complicated, possibly sorry for hurting the boy's feelings, but he leaves anyway. The door closes behind him, a very final sounding noise.

Stiles bites his lip and twists his hands in his lap. Peter sighs and sits on the edge of the bed. "He just needs some time to himself. He's not used to so much chatter."

Stiles looks up at Peter, eyes large and searching. Like this, it's easy to see what Derek likes about him.

"He'll come back later."

Stiles looks dejected. "He doesn't like me very much, does he?"

"Silly boy," Peter says with a huff. "He adores you."

"He scowls at me all the time. He barely talks to me. How do you figure he 'adores' me?" Stiles looks genuinely confused.

Peter smiles. "Because I know him. Now, why don't you lie down and take a bit of a nap?"

Stiles shakes his head and wriggles around instead. "I'm tired of sleeping! I'm not even sick anymore. And it's not fair to you and Derek that I have your bed all the time and you both sleep on the floor in front of the fire. I know you don't like it." He says that last quietly, like he's afraid to expose the secret.

Peter reaches out and takes one of Stiles's hands.

"You're still weak, sweetheart."

Stiles blushes and Peter smirks to himself. He likes the way the boy looks when he's flustered, and the boy does like endearments. He smells good, too. He leans in and breathes in Stiles's scent. When he pulls back, something like recognition is on Stiles's face.

"Are… are you a werewolf?" the boy asks.

Peter shouldn't be surprised. Stiles is smart. If he's ever been around the supernatural, if he wasn't ignorant of that world, then Peter and Derek haven't exactly been subtle.

Peter smiles, showing off a hint of fang. "And what would you know of wolves, little human?"

Stiles's heartbeat picks up but he doesn't smell of fear. Just the opposite, actually. Stiles smells like excitement. "Only a little. My best friend was turned by a rogue alpha last summer." He looks down. "They killed the rogue and took Scott away. Said he was too dangerous to be around 'good people'. I thought they wanted to help him." When Stiles looks up again, there are tears in his eyes. "But then they brought his body back."

"Who did that, little one?" Peter asks, but he already knows the answer.

"Gerard Argent," Stiles whispers, then his eyes flit around nervously as if saying the name aloud would make the hunter materialize.

Peter growls and Stiles jumps a little, but he doesn't flinch away.

"He's a horrible person," Stiles says, all in a rush. "He took me away, too. Just because I asked too many questions. He beat me and threatened worse. I thought I'd die in his cellar."

Peter's heart clenches at the thought of their boy at the hunter's mercy. "How did you get away?"

"Gerard's son, Chris, let me go," Stiles says. "But I couldn't take anything with me. I just ran and ran into the forest."

Peter puts his hand at the back of Stiles's head, then brings him in closer. He presses a kiss to the boy's forehead. "You're safe with us, now."

Stiles doesn't argue like he should. He just smiles. "I know."


While Derek is out, Stiles dozes off again. Peter knew he would. As much as the boy protests, he's still worn down and his body needs to heal.

It gives Peter some time to think.

Stiles has taken to them more easily than he should have. Peter thinks he understands. The boy has nothing. He's told them he's an orphan, and apparently his only other anchor to the world was his best friend, the one Argent killed. It's easy to see the boy has latched onto the only family he could because Peter and Derek have been kind to him.

Though thinking of Argent sets Peter's teeth on edge. He has no proof, but he's always believed the Argent family had more to do with the fire that killed his pack. Kate Argent set the fire, and Laura killed her for it. Peter would have, but he was too injured at the time. But did Gerard know? Laura doesn't want them to ask more questions. She's forbidden them from trying to find out more.

But Argent hurt Stiles. Peter doesn't like that. He doesn't like that the boy still has bruises on him. They're faded and healing but that doesn't make it any easier to think about. Peter remembers how dark the marks were when they first found Stiles. He doesn't like to think of someone else putting marks on what's theirs.

And yes, Peter realizes he's claimed the boy as pack. Derek's been half in love with Stiles since he first saw him, and Peter…

Well. He likes Stiles's intelligence, his quick wit. Not to mention big amber eyes that shine almost like a beta's in candlelight. Maybe Peter isn't too far behind Derek in his feelings for the boy.

It's dangerous, Peter knows. The boy is human — delicate and weak compared to a wolf. Something could happen to him easily. Another fever or an accident could take him away just as quickly as he appeared. Peter could handle the loss, but he's not so sure about Derek.

Stiles mutters something in his sleep. Peter considers asking Laura to give him the Bite, the next time she comes around. She hasn't made any betas since she became Alpha. She lives alone, only coming to visit her pack now and then. He thinks she only comes when the loneliness gets to be too much for her.

Peter's never understood why Laura stays away, though he does know she's always been uncomfortable with their relationship, with the closeness between he and Derek. Not enough to forbid it — Peter would kill before he gave Derek up, and he thinks she knows that.

Peter touches Stiles's hair. The sun is going down. Derek will be home soon.

He doesn't know if he's strong enough to keep his boys safe, but he'll do what he's always done. He'll try his damnedest.


"The full moon is coming," Stiles says quietly. He's been with them another two weeks, and has settled in as part of the pack. They haven't mentioned that fact to him, but he's a smart boy. Peter thinks he knows.

Derek is a wolf again today. He's been transforming less and less, but today he must have felt like he wants to be big and furry. Maybe he likes that he can lay his head in Stiles's lap and get pets as a wolf the way he can't as a human.

Peter hums as he cuts up potato for their stew. Stiles snorts. "That's not an answer."

"You didn't ask a question," Peter points out with a sly smile.

Derek snorts and buries his nose in Stiles's belly. Stiles laughs, tickled, and Peter wonders if he realizes just how vulnerable he is to a wolf. "Okay, oh pedantic one, what happens during the full moon? Is… is it safe?"

Derek whines and Peter puts down the knife. He wipes his hands on the towel and comes to sit next to Stiles on the bed. "Werewolves keep their mind during the full moon as long as they have a strong anchor."

"What's an anchor?" Stiles scratches behind Derek's ears.

"The thing that keeps us human. That keeps us from becoming purely animals." Peter reaches out and cards his hand through Derek's fur. Derek's tail thumps happily. "It can be anything, as long as it's important to us."

"And you and Derek have them?" Stiles looks worried, but not for himself, Peter realizes. He worries for them.

"More than one," Peter says, though he's not sure if that's true for Derek anymore.

"Why don't you ever transform?" Stiles asks, switching topics quick, forcing Peter to keep up.

He smiles sadly. "It's too tempting. You know, I don't have any scars when I'm a wolf."

"You're afraid you won't want to come back?" Stiles asks. Derek picks up his head and perks his ears. Waiting for Peter's response.

"Mhm," Peter hums. "We have enough of that around here." He makes sure he looks straight at Derek when he says it.

"But you wouldn't leave me like that, would you?" Stiles's voice is small and his scent worried.

Peter leans over and kisses the top of his head. "No, sweetheart. I wouldn't do that to you or to Derek." Even though Derek's done it to him for the past six years. Peter's not exactly bitter about it these days, but it's a sore spot that leaves him feeling petulant.

"Do you do anything special for the full moon?" Stiles wants to know.

"What, like run around the woods and howl at the moon?" Peter asks with a sly smile.

Stiles pulls a face. "Hey, how will I know without asking?"

"I suppose. But no, we don't do that." Peter pets Derek's head. "Well, maybe this one does, but usually we have a night in."

"You should do what you want," Stiles says earnestly. "What does it feel like? The moon, I mean."

"Like a pull. I feel it in my bones. It makes my blood sing." Peter smiles. "Sometimes I do want to shift and run. Sometimes I want to stay in." And fuck, he means, but he doesn't want to spook the boy.

Derek picks up his head and gives Peter a knowing look, if a wolf can look knowing.

"What do you think you'll do this time?" Stiles asks. So innocent.

Derek's ears perk. Peter laughs. "I don't know yet."

Derek licks Peter's fingers. 'Be honest' he's practically saying.

"If you do something outside, if you go for a run, can I come with you?" Stiles asks.

Peter smiles. It's been some time since they've had someone other than themselves with them for the full moon. Pack. Stiles is pack. "When you're feeling better, yes. But probably not this month. This month we should all stay in and enjoy the moon together."

Stiles doesn't argue about being better, though he probably wants to. "And how do we do that?" He's always so full of questions. Peter leans in and gives him a soft kiss. Stiles's eyes go big and round like a surprised doe's. "Oh."

"Is that okay?" Peter asks.

Stiles is nodding before the question is fully asked. "Yeah. Yes. That's... that's good."

Derek makes a soft whining sound. Peter is about to reassure him when Stiles beats him to it.

"He loves you best," he says, his hand carding through Derek's fur. "And I'd let you kiss me, too." His cheeks are pink but his heartbeat is steady.

Derek's tail wags and he jumps up, paws on Stiles's shoulders. He licks over Stiles's face until Stiles is sputtering and laughing.

"As a man, as a man!"

Peter smiles at them. They both smell of happiness and affection. It makes Peter feel better about everything.


Stiles is allowed to walk around outside, as long as he doesn't go far, for his own protection. The forest can be dangerous, especially for humans. But walking is good for him, helping him get his strength back, letting him breathe fresh air. It's cool outside today but not too cold. Still, Derek bundled Stiles up in his old clothes. Peter smiles when he sees Stiles's cranky face, but it doesn't last long. Stiles is too happy to be getting out of the cabin.

And Peter thinks he and Derek should have a talk.

"We have to be careful during the full moon," Peter says. Derek grunts and Peter rolls his eyes. "Sweetheart, it will be hard to hold back, but we must. He's human. Breakable."

Derek looks offended. "I know that."

"But when's the last time you were with a human?" Peter says, and then immediately regrets his words.

Derek's face clouds and he smells like guilt and misery.

Peter pulls him into his arms. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring that up. Just to point out that you and I are different. We can be rough with each other without consequence."

"I don't want to hurt him," Derek says, his voice muffled in Peter's neck.

"I know. But I'll be there in case you lose yourself."

"What about you?" Derek mumbles. "Are you worried about… hurting him? Being too rough?"

"My control is impeccable," Peter says loftily, and Derek laughs. It's rusty but it's there, music to Peter's ears.

"Maybe you should practice," Derek says, his scent going spicy and receptive. He pulls away enough to look at him face to face. His face is turning pink but there's a challenge in his eye.

Peter leans in and kisses him softly. "Do you want me to be sweet with you, Derek? Want me to take my time and make love to you? Because I can do that."

It's only been that way a handful of times. Usually Derek comes to him with desperation, clinging and begging for faster, harder, more. But sometimes it's like this, though it's been some time.

Derek sucks in a breath and goes lax in Peter's arms. "Maybe," he murmurs, and Peter kisses him again. Runs his hands down Derek's back, down until he gets to the edge of his shirt and can play his fingers against warm skin. Derek whines softly and Peter rests his forehead against his nephew's.

"I love you so much," Peter whispers.

Derek opens his eyes. He looks so vulnerable. Like Peter could break his heart at any moment. Peter knows it's a big responsibility, that Derek has been broken and only barely put back together. Peter knows. He's done most of the patching himself. But now, with Stiles, Derek is getting even better. Peter's grateful and bitter about it at the same time. He has a lot of complicated feelings about the human in their lives, but he cares for the boy. He's pack now.

And he's coming through the door, stomping his feet of dirt on the mat. He looks up and blushes. Stammers. "Oh! I'm, um. I'm sorry. Do you want me to…" Stiles makes a vague gesture at the door. "I should just… go back out. Sorry. It was getting windy, I thought… but if you… of course you want privacy, sorry…"

Derek snorts laughter and Peter beckons the boy closer. "You may stay. Derek and I were just discussing the full moon."

Stiles's eyebrows fly up. Then he grins. "Is that what you call it?"

Peter smirks. "Come here, Stiles." Derek weakly attempts to pull away, but Peter holds him close. One hand around his waist, the other reaching out to Stiles.

Stiles approaches slowly. Not quite wary but not really convinced of his reception, either. When he's within reaching distance, it's Derek who reels him into their embrace.

"Here." Derek pulls Stiles closer against their bodies. They can feel the chill on the human, but he's warming up fast between them.

Stiles is blushing harder, and it shouldn't be as attractive as it is. Peter kisses Stiles's temple and Derek leans in close, stopping just short.

"I think you said something about kissing you as a man?" Derek says, and it's more than he's spoken to Stiles at once since they've brought him in from the cold.

Stiles smiles and the sight warms Peter's heart. Peter holds on to both his boys while they kiss, and he can tell Derek is trying his best to keep it sweet and gentle. Stiles moans and has other ideas, clinging to them both and practically begging for more. Peter leans in and kisses Stiles's neck, which he already knows is sensitive. Stiles moans again and Derek kisses him more deeply while Peter sucks a bruise into his skin.

"Oh my gods," Stiles pants as the kiss breaks apart. Peter nips his neck and pulls back as well, taking a good look at Stiles's face. He's flushed of course, but his eyes are dark and unfocused. Stunned. And he smells like deep desire.

Peter smiles at Derek. Well, okay, it's a smirk. He's feeling smug. They have the best human. "Do you want us to stop?" Peter purrs, already knowing the answer. Derek looks at him with a smirk of his own.

Stiles jerks in their arms, an aborted flail of denial. "What? No! Don't stop!"

Derek's smile gets predatory. "What do you want?"

"Um, all of it?" Stiles says/asks with wide eyes. But Peter knows he's not ready for everything. Maybe they could take turns kissing and rutting against the boy until he comes, though.

Peter kisses Stiles's jaw. "Don't worry. We'll take care of you, darling boy."

Stiles whimpers.

"It's warm in here," Derek says. "You're heating up."

Peter picks up on what he's saying immediately. "You should let us take some of those layers off."

Stiles nods wordlessly, so Peter and Derek work fast to divest him of his clothing. They don't need him completely naked, so they strip him down to his underclothes. Peter is fascinated to find the boy's blush travels down his neck to his chest. His pink nipples are hard, too, and Peter wants to play with them until they're red and puffy.

He says as much and Stiles shivers. Derek growls and pushes the boy down on their bed. While Derek occupies himself with kissing and biting at the boy's lips, Peter lies down beside them and runs his fingertips from Stiles's knee to his thigh. Gentle. Not grabbing and bruising and claiming the way he wants, the way his wolf is howling to do.

Maybe Peter will have more trouble during the full moon than he thought. If Stiles responds the same way as he is now, though, pushing into the touch and begging for more, maybe it won't be that much of a problem.

Derek moves, grinding down against Stiles, and Stiles wraps one bare leg around his waist. Peter's given a nice view of Stiles's thigh, and he leans in to suck a mark against the pale skin there. There are slick kissing noises and Stiles's moans fogging Peter's head. The entire cabin smells of it now, thick desire and desperation.

Peter and Derek both are almost overcome with lust, but they ignore it to pay attention to Stiles's needs. They draw moans out of him, hisses, whimpers. They take turns swallowing the sounds falling from their boy's lips, and keep touching and kissing him until Stiles is arching up and coming in his underwear, untouched there.

Peter kisses him through it while Derek buries his face in Stiles's neck, taking long pulls of his scent. After, Stiles lies in the bed, a stunned look on his face. He's beautiful.

But Peter and Derek are still both hard enough to hammer nails. Derek seems unsure how to approach Peter with Stiles lying between them. Peter smirks at him and pulls him in by the collar of his shirt, then seizes his mouth in a hard, demanding kiss.

Stiles gasps below them, but then he moves out of the way. "I um. Need to clean up," he says, and Peter pulls away from Derek for long enough to give him a reassuring kiss. Stiles kisses back eagerly, a smile on his lips. But the bed is small and Stiles seems to realize this. He scoots out of the way and gets up, ostensibly to clean himself.

Then Derek and Peter have the space and Peter can think of nothing more than covering Derek with his body, his scent.

It's been a long time since they've done this. With Derek in wolf form most of the time for the past several years, except for special occasions — when Derek felt secure enough to change back and share their bed — Peter hasn't been able to have this much. On stormy nights, sometimes, Derek would change back and they'd rut against each other.

It's different now, though. Derek is different, more present than he's been in years. And Peter wants him badly. He wants to drive him crazy with desire, until he's moaning and begging for Peter to just let him come.

That's the plan.

Derek upends everything by rolling suddenly and straddling him, kissing him deeply as his hands card through Peter's hair. Peter moans helplessly and ruts up against him. He can't deny how much it turns him on, either, that Derek is taking what he wants. It happens so rarely.

Derek is anything but passive at the moment. He breaks from the kiss and nuzzles against Peter's face, scenting and rubbing his whiskers against Peter's skin. It's a little rough and a lot sweet. Their hands work together to get partially undressed, their cocks springing free.

"You're both so… gorgeous," Stiles says. Derek and Peter turn their heads together to see Stiles standing there, staring at him, cloth in his hand but forgotten. "Don't stop! I was just saying. You should definitely keep going."

Peter smirks at him, but he sees Derek is smiling as well. "You like to watch?" Peter asks him teasingly.

Stiles can't blush more than he already is, but he looks down with a smile, adorably embarrassed. "I guess I do."

Derek sits back a little and spits into his hand. Then he wraps his hand around Peter's cock. "Watch this, then."

Peter wants to quip or tease, but the feeling of Derek's capable hand on him steals his words. Derek strokes him slowly, carefully, and when Peter opens his eyes and looks up at him, sees he's watching his face for his reactions.

Peter licks his lips. "You, too."

Derek's eyes glow and he nods shortly before aligning himself so their cocks are side by side. Then he takes them both in hand, and the sensation is heaven. Peter moans.

So does Stiles. "That's the hottest thing I've ever seen."

Derek leans down and kisses Peter again, open mouth and panting breath, tongue gently teasing. Peter tries to buck into Derek's hand, but Derek growls and tightens his knees on either side of Peter's hips, making it impossible to move. Derek's gotten so strong. It's unfairly sexy.

Stiles comes into sight, moving closer. Peter can smell his desire and curiosity. He doubts the boy could get hard again so soon, but that doesn't stop him from joining them. He reaches out and brushes a damp curl off Peter's forehead. Rubs a hand up under Derek's shirt to touch his muscled back.

"You're both so pretty," he says, a hint of awe in his voice.

Derek reaches out and drags him closer. Turns his face away from Peter for a moment to kiss Stiles, too. Peter whines at the loss, but he's anything but jealous. Stiles fits with them perfectly. He thinks idly of building a bigger bed, of keeping Stiles with them always.

Derek pushes Peter's shirt up so that his abs and pecs are showing. Peter takes pride in his body, likes that Derek enjoys it too. And Stiles as well, if the gasp he makes means anything.

"Come all over you," Derek warns, stroking their cocks again.

Peter groans. "Yes. Do it, love." He hears Stiles gasp again, and looks over at him for a moment. Sees the boy is watching them raptly.

Then Peter looks back up at Derek and drowns in his nephew's intense gaze. Derek's eyes are glowing bright blue, and Peter can't help but flash his own eyes. Something changes then, and Derek growls. He strokes them faster, but leans down to kiss him deeply. There's the sharp bite of fangs there, just a hint of animal lust. It makes Peter want to roll and pin him, maybe fuck into him until he's too deep to leave. Knot him, breed him up good.

"Yes," Derek slurs, and Peter realizes he must have said some of that aloud. His hands are clasped in Derek's hair now, tugging mindlessly. He feels dizzy with desire.

Then Derek is coming, hard and fast, spurting all over Peter's belly and chest. The scent of it fills the air and Peter growls, loving it, loving Derek. He almost misses Stiles's soft, "Holy shit."

Derek kisses Peter's jaw, his chin lazily. Animal licks, supplication as he gains his breath again. Then he's sliding down Peter's body and licking at the come he's spilled there.

Peter watches him, unable to look away. Derek's hair is standing up, rumpled from loving, and Peter pets it, tries to get it to lie down again.

Then he forgets all about hair, about Stiles, about everything but the wet heat of Derek's mouth on his cock.

Derek hasn't done this in years, but that doesn't mean he's forgotten. He knows just how to swallow down until the head of Peter's cock is bumping the back of his throat. He knows how to take Peter's balls gently in hand to roll them, remembers just what Peter likes.

And Peter's in heaven. The suction, the heat, the low moan that sends vibrations through his cock are all just right. Perfection. He knows what Derek wants, so he gives it to him. He fists Derek's hair again and this time bucks up into his mouth. Derek chokes on a low moan but he doesn't pull away. His hands grip the sheets below them and Peter fucks his mouth again, and again, until he's coming and Derek's swallowing and Peter…

Peter forgot how good it can be. He remembers now and doesn't think anything can compare.

Derek pulls off and wipes his chin, looking down at Peter smugly, tears at the corners of his eyes. Peter grabs him and pulls him in for a long, breathless kiss.

"Perfect, perfect boy," he murmurs. "My love, my Derek, there you are." It's like he's been gone for so long, and now suddenly he's present and Peter is whole again.

"That was the most amazing thing I've ever seen," Stiles whispers.

Derek pillows his head on Peter's chest and gestures him back over. At some point, Stiles must have taken a step away. Peter wonders why, but not too hard. He's sated and happy and fulfilled in a way he's rarely been in his life.

Stiles comes over and reaches out, more tentative than he's been before. But Derek takes his hand, threads their fingers together, and Stiles smiles.

"Stay with us," Derek says. Peter knows he's asking Stiles to stay for good, to be with them, to be part of their pack and their relationship. He thinks Stiles knows that, too.

When Stiles nods, Peter feels even lighter, happier than he was a moment before.


Laura shows up the day before the full moon.

She hasn't come in months, and Peter had mostly forgotten she was due to come. He's been preoccupied with Stiles, Derek, and their recovery. It's hard not to be.

But Laura comes, bringing food and some other supplies, and Stiles spooks. He runs back into the cabin when he sees her coming, reaching immediately for the axe inside the door.

"What's wrong?" Peter asks, and Derek looks ready to take on the world if it means Stiles will stop smelling like fear.

"Someone's coming," Stiles says, holding the axe like he really would use it.

Peter sticks his head out the door and listens. Sniffs the air. Sighs. "It's our Alpha."

Derek tenses and Stiles unfortunately takes his cue from that. "Do we fight her?"

Peter wraps his arm around Stiles and kisses his cheek. Reaches out and runs a hand down Derek's arm. "No. She's not an enemy."

Derek usually runs off when Laura comes to visit. He looks like he wants to do so now. But Laura is already in the clearing and almost to the door. Derek whines, clearly conflicted.

"You can shift if you'd rather," Peter murmurs to him.

Derek wants to, Peter can tell, but he shakes his head no and sits down. Stiles stands by Peter, looking at Derek and back, awkward but brave. "Will she let me stay?"

Then, the expected knock.

Peter squeezes Stiles's shoulder. Kisses his head. And knowing Laura can hear, says, "She has no say in how we live." Then he opens the door. "Hello, Laura."

Laura looks better than the last few times she's visited. Her hair is down and recently brushed. Her travelling clothes are cleaner than usual. She holds herself straighter. "Hello, uncle." Her eyes go past him to Stiles, then flick to Derek. She gasps.

"Would you like to come in?" Peter asks, mock polite. Stiles smells of confusion.

Laura walks in, toward her brother. "Derek?" she asks, voice trembling. She reaches out but Derek ducks his head and ignores the gesture. Laura huffs. "I'm happy to see you… as yourself." She turns to Peter, probably expecting an explanation.

Peter gives her one, though it won't seem like that to her. "Stiles, this is my niece, Laura Hale. Laura, meet Stiles."

Stiles has more manners than all of them put together. He holds out a hand, though Peter can tell he's nervous.

Laura blinks and takes the hand to shake. "Stiles?"

"It's a nickname," Stiles says, but offers nothing else. Peter likes that. He also likes that Stiles's scent is strong in the cabin. It's obvious he's been living with them.

"Where are you from?" Laura asks. "How did you get here?" She looks at Peter accusingly, as if he somehow stole the boy away from his home.

"That's my own business," Stiles says sharply. "Peter and Derek were kind enough to offer me a home."

Laura blinks again. Really, this is quality entertainment for Peter. "You're staying?" Her eyes drift back over to Derek.

"Yes," Derek says, the same time as Peter and Stiles.

Stiles grins. "Derek asked me to stay. I guess Peter wants me here, too."

"Why?" Laura asks, obviously baffled. "Why would you want to? You're in the middle of nowhere out here. Far away from any civilized people. Surely you miss… wherever you're from? What about your family?"

"I'm an orphan," Stiles says shortly. "I'm happy to be here."

"I didn't bring enough food for three," Laura says. She looks at her brother. "Derek, aren't you going to say anything to me?"

Derek usually smells of guilt when Laura's around, but now he just smells annoyed and his body language screams discomfort.

"He doesn't have to say anything if he doesn't want to," Stiles says before Peter can say something similar.

Laura looks lost, and Peter suddenly feels remorse for treating her the way he has.

"Laura. Alpha," Peter says. Laura turns toward him again, her attention completely on him. "Let's leave Derek and Stiles alone and go for a walk."

She purses her lips and gives a short nod.

Peter guides her outside, closing the door on his boys. "Stiles is skittish, still."

"He seemed bold enough," Laura says bitterly.

"He's protective of Derek, but that doesn't mean he's not anxious around new people."

"Derek doesn't need protection from me!"

"Maybe he does," Peter murmurs. Then, louder, "Derek's doing much better. He still shifts to his wolf form when he feels bad, but he's human more and more these days."

"That's wonderful," Laura says. "I don't understand why he won't talk to me, though. Or why he always shies away from me when I visit."

Peter waits to speak until they're farther from the cabin. Out of hearing range. "He still believes the fire was his fault."

"But it wasn't. I know it wasn't, and I've never blamed him," Laura says.

"I know, and I've tried to tell him that. But he blames himself."

"Why does he stay with you but he won't even talk to me, though?" Laura asks. She sounds so frustrated and confused. Peter wants to console her, but they've never been close.

"You think it's been easy for me?" Peter asks. "Until this past month, he rarely shifted back to human. And when he did, he didn't talk much, believe me. It's… it's been Stiles who's brought him out of his shell."

"Why him and not us?" Laura asks. "We've known him his whole life!"

"Maybe that's why," Peter murmurs. "Stiles doesn't know anything about the fire, or Derek's role in it."

"He hasn't asked you about your scars?" Laura asks.

Peter sighs. "Stiles understands scars. He has his own, though his are on the inside. He knows better than to poke and prod at old wounds."

"Do you see Derek falling in love with him?" Laura asks.

"Yes. We both have," Peter says with a smile.

"So quickly?"

"It's like he was made just for us," Peter says. He wants to scoff at himself for being overly romantic, but isn't it the truth? Isn't that how it feels?

Laura turns and watches him for long moments. Waiting, maybe, for more of an explanation. So Peter says how he feels.

"It's like the broken pieces of us, of Derek and Stiles and me, all fit together. We might not be whole alone, or just with the two of us, but with Stiles we fit. Together, we're whole."

Laura shakes her head, but she smiles. "I'm not sure how that works, or if it's healthy, but… I'm happy for you."

Peter smirks. "Bring food for three next time."

They walk back to the cabin.

Laura doesn't leave without saying goodbye. She shakes Stiles's hand again, this time with much more warmth. "Take care of them."

"I think it's more of them taking care of me," Stiles says, sounding bewildered at the sudden turnaround.

"Take care of each other, then," Laura says with a smile. She turns to Derek. "I'll bring you some new clothes. You look like you've outgrown yours."

Derek nods. "Thanks." It's said quietly, but it's said, and it makes Laura grin.

Peter just gives into it and gives her a hug. She hugs back tightly, a hitch in her breath.

And then she leaves.

"Well. That went better than expected," Peter says, and Stiles huffs a laugh.

Even Derek smiles.


Peter feels the pull of the moon in the morning, before it rises. He feels it coming, feels it in his bones. Derek is restless, and he keeps scenting Peter and Stiles.

Stiles takes it all in stride, though there's an edge of nervousness about him. Peter wraps his arms around him from behind and kisses his neck. He doesn't say anything yet, just gives his boy the opportunity to talk if he wants.

And of course he wants. "I was thinking, maybe we can have a picnic?" Stiles turns around in Peter's arms and leans in, scenting back. He does it naturally, as if he's a wolf himself. He's picked up on their little actions and quirks and it makes Peter feel proud to have such an understanding human in their pack.

"It's a little cold for picnics," Peter says regretfully.

Stiles laughs. "I meant inside. We can clear the chairs away and put our blankets on the floor."

It's a good idea. Not just to eat, since they only have two chairs at their table, but for other things, as well. The bed might be too small for the three of them, but a comfy nest on the floor is a different thing altogether.

Peter hums and looks up, as if he's thinking.

"C'mon, Peter… think of all the room we'll have." Stiles punctuates with a waggle of his eyebrows and Peter can't help but swoop in and kiss him.

"It's a wonderful idea," Peter says. "We'll make it nice and comfortable. As long as it's not too close to the fire."

Stiles nods in understanding. "Where's Derek?"

"He went for a run. We can feel the moon before it rises, and he thought it was a good idea to try to run off some of his energy before tonight."

"I don't want him all tired out," Stiles says with a pout.

Peter laughs. "That's the last thing you have to be concerned about. I think he's worried he'll be too rough with you tonight." The sudden spike of lust-scent in the air tells Peter just how much that is not a problem. He smirks. "You like that thought?"

Sties tips his head back in invitation. Does he know what his bare throat does to Peter's libido? Stiles moans when Peter nips at his neck. "I… I do. I want you both so much."

But Peter knows they need to be careful. "The fantasy and the reality may not be the same, though. You need to tell us if things get too intense for you."

"I think I'll be okay as long as you don't leave any… um, permanent marks." Stiles may be blushing, a little uncomfortable talking about his boundaries, but Peter's pleased that he's setting them.

"And if we fuck you-"

"What do you mean 'if'?" Stiles says quickly.

Peter smiles. "Okay, sweetheart. When we fuck you-"

"Much better," Stiles murmurs.

"-you need to be aware of something." Peter waits to make sure he has Stiles's full attention.

Stiles surprises him once again, though. "You told Derek you wanted to knot him. Is it about that?"

Peter sucks in a breath. Hearing his boy even say the word has him getting hard in his pants. He gives him a quick kiss because he can't seem to help himself. "Yes. And I think that's too intense for you, at least for your first time. That's something, if you want it, we need to build up to. And it won't be done on the night of the full moon, either. Not the first time. There's too much chance we'll hurt you."

Stiles's face is flaming, but he smells so ready. "I think it's something I want, but… I'm not sure. It… it sounds good, but. I need some more time to think about it."

"And that's fine. Even if it's something you decide you never want, that's absolutely fine." He gives Stiles a soft, lingering kiss and Stiles tries to deepen it. It's difficult to pull away, especially this close to the full moon, but Peter's still in control. "When the full moon rises, Derek and I will still be able to stop if you tell us to. But you may have to be clearer than usual or we'll have trouble paying attention. We may get caught up in the moment, but the last thing we want is for you to be uncomfortable."

Stiles licks his lips. "We need a code."

"What?" Peter asks.

"A code. Or a word, something I can say that'll mean stop. Or slow down."

Peter smiles. Their boy is so smart. "That sounds perfect."

"Okay, so… 'silver', for slow. Because silver doesn't kill you but it can hurt. And 'wolfsbane' for stop. Will those work?"

"Yes. We have to make sure Derek knows, too, so we'll tell him when he comes back." He pulls Stiles against his body and Stiles seems to melt against him. When they kiss, it's full of promise.

It's Stiles who pulls away this time. "Let's build that nest."

By the time Derek comes back to the cabin, they have a soft, cozy place on the floor with plenty of room for three.


They take turns taking a hot bath. Peter shows Stiles the tub they have in the back of the cabin, and the wood-burning water heater Laura helped them rig up a few years ago. The tub is meant for two people, but Stilles can sit on Derek's lap and there's just enough room for three.

It's been awhile since Peter's had company for his bath, and he finds he likes it. It's intimate. But it also means Stiles sees all of Peter's scars for the first time.

Peter's long since learned to live with his scars. Derek doesn't care, though sometimes he traces them with gentle fingertips and Peter can smell his guilt. As much as Peter reassures him, Derek is determined to carry a burden that isn't his. But that's Derek.

Stiles hasn't seen the extent of the burns until now. His eyes widen when Peter walks naked to the tub, but he doesn't show or smell like disgust. There's curiosity there, but he doesn't ask. He does look, though. Peter lets him. He knows what Stiles sees: shiny scar tissue that glances off his shoulder, touches his upper arm, and slides down his side. The scars end at Peter's hip. The rest, and he had so much more, have healed. He doesn't know if the remaining scars will ever heal, but he's learned to live with them.

Stiles's eyes don't hold any pity, but there's something soft there. Compassion, maybe.

Peter didn't know he was afraid until Stiles holds out his arms and invites him into the tub with Derek and him. Peter lets out a relieved breath and he steps into the tub.

"Let's get scrubbed up before the water gets cold," Peter says, and the moment is broken.

They wash, taking the time to make sure every bit of themselves is clean. Stiles's face is red from the steam and probably embarrassment, too, but he follows instruction well. Derek whispers in Stiles's ear, hands wandering down to his ass. Stiles bites his lip and moans.

"Really?" he asks.

Peter loves Derek's idea and nods. "We want to taste you everywhere."

Stiles whimpers and lets them help clean him.

The sun is going down and the chill in the air grows more pronounced. The last thing they need is Stiles getting sick again, so once everyone is scrubbed from head to toe, Peter gets out and produces thick towels. He dries off quickly and wraps Stiles up in the fluffiest towel they have. It's huge, like a blanket, and Peter can't help but pick their boy up and carry him into the warmth of the cabin.

He hears Derek drying off behind him and then following.

The moon rises just as Peter is laying Stiles down on their makeshift bed. Stiles wraps his arms around Peter's neck and pulls him close. Peter's body covers him, weighs him down, and Stiles's scent goes sweet and willing.

Derek pads in, silent even on human feet, and sits on the makeshift bed. He runs his hand through Stiles's hair. Stiles opens his eyes and looks back and forth between them.

"Who wants me first?" he asks.

"Slow down," Peter says. Derek adds, "We have all night." They're clearly thinking the same thing.

Stiles puts on a mock pout. "But I want you now." Then he moves, lean body writhing under Peter and making him growl. Stiles grins at that.

Peter narrows his eyes. "Oh, you want to tease?" He leans back. He's intending to do more, maybe make the boy beg. But Derek whines.

"I want to taste him," Derek whispers. His fingertips trace down Stiles's side.

"Taste me?" Stiles asks, obvious in his teasing. "How bad does the full moon affect you... You don't want to eat me, do you?"

Peter looks at Derek, catches his wolf smile. Yes, Derek definitely wants to eat the boy. Peter leans in, teases Stiles's sensitive ear with his lips. "Roll over, baby. Let Derek show you how good he can make you feel."

Stiles moans and rolls over, trusting them. Peter's in a good position to thrust against his pert ass, just once or twice, before he lets Derek get where he wants to be.

"This'll feel good," Derek says, and nibbles and licks his way down Stiles's spine. The bruises are gone, except for a little bit of yellow that's hardly noticeable in the candlelight. Still, Derek kisses where they'd been, because he remembers every mark. Every injury.

"Okay," Stiles whispers. He smells a little of nervousness now, especially when Derek pulls his cheeks apart to look. "Derek…" He's embarrassed.

But then Derek starts to lick, and Stiles is stunned speechless.

Peter hums to himself and moves over to the bed stand. There's a bottle of oil there, perfect for what they need. What Stiles needs.

Stiles moans and his fingers dig into the bedding beneath him. "Oh, gods-" he says, his voice already sounding wrecked. Peter can't wait to hear him when he's being fucked. "Derek." Stiles moves, squirming, and Derek growls. Picks him up by his hips and sets him on his knees so his ass is in full display. Stiles whimpers but lets it happen, giving no indication that he wants anything but Derek manhandling him just so.

It's a good thing their boy likes their werewolf strength, but Peter needs to watch Derek. Make sure he doesn't take it too far.

Peter taps Derek's shoulder and hands over the oil. Not before he took some for himself, though. It feels good to stroke his cock when it's slick and easy.

Derek looks up at Peter and whines. At first Peter doesn't see the problem, but then he notices Derek's fingers are clawed, that he can't possibly prepare their boy at the moment.

"Okay," Peter says, and drops down beside Derek. "Let me, then."

"What…?" Stiles wants to know. He looks at them over his shoulder.

Peter answers calmly with, "I'm going to see how well you take my fingers, darling."

"Oh, gods," Stiles whispers. "Okay. Yeah, do that."

Derek's eyes begin to glow. Peter nips at his chin, his throat. Then he gets back to the task at hand, slicking his fingers some more and slowly sliding one inside Stiles's hole. It goes in easily. Derek's already gotten him wet and relaxed.

Two fingers are more of a stretch, but Stiles pushes back like he was made for it. He whimpers when Peter twists his fingers. Gasps when he brushes against his prostate.

"What's that?" Stiles pants.

Derek runs his hand down Stiles's back. "Feel good?" he rumbles.

Stiles shivers. At the touch, maybe, or the sound of the wolf in Derek's voice. Peter'd gladly show their boy a little of his own inner animal, but he needs to stay in control. One of them does, anyway.

"Do it again?" Stiles asks. He looks over his shoulder and blinks his big brown eyes at Peter and it makes him want to melt, give the boy everything he needs.

"Of course," Peter murmurs. He twists his fingers, pulls them out a bit, then pushes back in, sliding right over Stiles's prostate as he does.

Stiles groans and drops his head again. Derek, not content to just watch, moves into a position where he can kiss him. The wet, slick sounds of their kissing makes Peter's cock grow harder. He drips more oil over Stiles's hole and starts to press in with three fingers now.

The clench of Stiles's body is slick and hot. Peter is ready to bury himself inside, to fuck the boy senseless, but he thinks he'll let Derek do that for the first time. Derek's slightly smaller than he is, an easier fit, though Peter's concerned Derek may not stop before he knots.

Derek takes Stiles's hand. "You're okay, you can take it," he whispers, and Stiles nods quickly.

"It's good." He leans in and kisses Derek again.

"You're almost ready, sweetheart," Peter tells him. Stiles hums and Peter can hear the smile in it. The excitement.

"Can I…" Derek says, moving beside Peter to look down at Stiles. He watches Peter's fingers move and stretch Stiles's hole for a moment before he growls his impatience.

Stiles gasps. "Please."

Peter realizes he's right, that his own actions are just superfluous now. Derek leans against his shoulder and Peter gives him a quick kiss before moving out of the way.

Stiles's eyes are wide and dark, his whole face flushed. There's sweat at his hairline, and Peter wants to lick it away. Taste him. Devour him. He settles for kissing the boy's lips, swallowing his gasp as Derek mounts him. Peter's hard, but not yet desperate. He goes back to slowly stroking his cock. Stiles whimpers.

"Big," he says. "Wait, I just-"

Peter tells Derek to slow down, to let Stiles get used to him. Derek grumbles about it through his fangs but he obeys. Peter should've fucked him silly first, gotten some of the wildness out of his system. He pets Stiles's hair, rumbles praise.

"You're doing so good, sweetheart, you're perfect. We're going to love you so good, so much." There are tears in Stiles's eyes and Peter kisses them away. "Shh, you can do it. You're taking Derek so well. Look at him. He's wild for you, can't wait to take more, take all you give him. Relax. He's not going to move until you're ready."

Stiles cranes his neck to look at Derek, and when he sees Derek's fangs and glowing eyes, another moan falls from his lips.

The angle is awkward but Peter wraps his hand around Stiles's cock. It's flagged a little but it doesn't take much stroking to bring him back to hardness. Stiles gasps and nods his head.

"Okay. Derek, okay. Fuck me."

Derek pushes in the rest of the way, seating himself inside Stiles, and grinds.

"Good boy," Peter whispers. "You're both so good, so beautiful. Go slow, Derek. He's not ready for more than that just yet."

Stiles whimpers but he pushes back, taking Derek deeper.

Peter kisses Stiles's head. "How does it feel?"

"Ngh. Full. So full. Good."

Peter cups Stiles's balls in his hand, caressing them gently. He can tell by Stiles's gasp that he's sensitive, nearly overwhelmed now. Derek is rocking into him slowly, watching Peter for permission to do more. Peter nods. It's time.

Derek pulls out a bit and then thrusts hard. Stiles reacts with a gasp and a whimper.

Peter can't help himself. He has to look, has to see where Derek's disappearing inside their boy, filling him up. Stiles's hole is stretched around Derek's girth, and Peter can't just look. He reaches between them and touches, teases Stiles's rim with his oiled fingertips.

"Gods, you're beautiful like this," Peter tells him, and Stiles makes a noise like a sob.

Derek growls and thrusts in harder. He has a careful grip on Stiles's hips, claws delicate against the fragile human skin, but Peter can smell the faintest hint of blood. He leans in beside Stiles and licks around Derek's claws, where the skin is scratched. There's only one or two drops, but the taste heightens his lust and Peter has to squeeze the base of his cock.

He moves again, rubbing his cock against Derek's leg, smearing some clear precome against his nephew's skin. He picks up the oil and slicks his fingers good, then rubs them over Derek's hole.

Derek's tight, but welcoming. He moans and fucks Stiles harder even as Peter slides two fingers inside him.

Stiles arches his back, whimpering and moaning and making punched-out sounds every time Derek thrusts.

"Find a better angle," Peter whispers to Derek. "Drive him crazy with it."

Stiles whines when Derek finds it. He loses his ability to speak. Sobs out his pleasure. He's close, and Peter and Derek both know it.

"Don't knot him," Peter reminds Derek. "He's not ready, just ease off it you feel it coming…"

Derek whines but obeys. Peter rewards him by adding another finger, stretching him wide.

"Please," Stiles whimpers.

"Touch yourself," Derek growls, fucking him shallowly. "Come for us."

Stiles works his dick quickly, then tenses up and gasps. He's beautiful as he comes, and Derek rumbles his pleasure. The smell of Stiles's release fills the room, driving Derek and Peter wild. Peter knows now would be the time for Derek to knot their boy, so he gently pulls him back, out of Stiles as the boy collapses in a heap under him.

"Oh my godddds," Stiles groans.

Peter huffs a laugh and Derek slides his dick between Stiles's cheeks, rutting there and pushing back against Peter. He's moon-drunk and close to losing control.

"Derek," Peter says sharply.

"Want you," Derek answers with a whine. His body is tense with desire, with need. He's ready, and Peter wants him just as badly.

Peter lies on his back and pulls Derek to straddle him. "Ride me, darling. Take what you need."

"Gods, that's so hot," Stiles mutters. He watches with half-lidded eyes as Derek lines up and then sinks down on Peter's cock.

Peter hisses. It feels so good. Derek's a hot, slick vise around him, and Peter only wants more of the same. "That's right, baby. Derek, ah, yes."

Derek plants his hands on Peter's chest and rides. Peter watches him, half-lidded eyes appreciative, sliding his hands up Derek's muscled thighs. Derek's cock is deep purple-red, needy and dripping, but Peter doesn't touch. Not yet.

He lets Derek ride for awhile, faster and faster, until he's whining for more, for what he can't quite take. Then Peter wraps an arm around him and flips in one smooth move, so that Derek's beneath him and Peter can really fuck him the way he's begging to be fucked.

Somewhere distant he hears Stiles inhale sharply. Peter's hands dig into Derek's hips. Bruises form and heal and form again.

"Knot me," Derek begs. "Need it."

"I know, sweet boy," Peter says. "I'll give you everything you need."

"Gods," Stiles whispers. He moves and wraps a hand around Derek's cock. Strokes him slowly. It looks like exquisite torture, though he's sure their boy doesn't mean it that way.

And then Peter's knot is swelling, catching on Derek's rim. Peter pushes, pushes and lets it grow more, lets it swell inside Derek's hole, makes him whimper and gasp. They're locked together and Peter's coming hard, unable to think beyond his pleasure.

Derek whimpers. Peter can hear the slick sounds of Stiles and Derek kissing now, and when he looks he sees Stiles is still stroking Derek's cock, still maddenly slow.

Peter grinds his knot inside Derek. Derek's obviously overwhelmed, and Peter smells blood. His fangs have cut Stiles's mouth, and Peter tugs hard on Derek's hair, pulling him out of the kiss. It bares his throat and Stiles — gorgeous, clever boy he is — bites down on the exposed skin, hard enough to draw blood.

Derek's gasp is loud, like he suddenly can't breathe, like he's choking on air. He comes then, pinned between Peter's knot and Stiles's blunt teeth.

"Beautiful," Peter breathes. He doesn't know if he's talking about Derek's submission or the blood smeared on Stiles's face. They're both gorgeous in this moment. Derek has given up all control and Stiles has just taken some of his own. Stiles's eyes are practically glowing, honey-gold like a new beta feeling his power for the first time. Derek is wild strength caged between two bodies, sated for the moment.

Peter moves Derek into a more comfortable position, and Stiles cuddles close on his other side. The moon has heightened their instincts and Stiles doesn't seem to mind being scented and held close. Just the opposite, really. He smells of happiness and satisfaction.

They fit together, the three of them, better than Peter had even imagined. Broken shards of lives carefully placed back together into something entirely new, something better than before.

Peter only needs to guard it, keep it in place. Nothing will pull them apart, not while he's alive.


It wouldn't take long to build a bed that would accommodate three people, but it would take up a lot of room in the cabin, which is only one room. Peter starts to think of building a larger cabin, or an addition. The more he thinks about it, the more he likes the idea.

He mentions the idea to Derek, who goes quiet and thoughtful. Stiles wants to start planning right away.

For the time being, they keep the 'nest' on the floor. Stiles loves to sleep between his wolves, jokingly calls it a 'puppy pile'. Peter's instincts to keep Derek and Stiles close and safe are satisfied, and Derek likes it as well, though he never comes out and says as much.

Peter is out hunting. Fresh meat for their stew is always a good thing, and it keeps Peter from being cooped up inside. Derek and Stiles are back at the cabin, probably rolling around like a couple of pups.

Peter's tracking a buck when he hears a disturbance, something big crashing through the forest. He shifts to confront it, whatever it may be. But then he sees what the noise is, and he feels nothing but dread.

He smells the blood and poisonous wolfsbane on her, sees her ragged clothes and matted hair. Laura is a mess, wounded badly, and he calls out to her so he can approach her.

She doesn't respond to do more than snarl at first. She's in pain and scared and Peter doesn't blame her. He talks to her, keeps out of range of her claws, until she comes back to herself enough to recognize him.

Then he helps her, picks her up in his arms and carries her back to the cabin.

"What's- is that Laura?" Stiles asks, and Derek moves quickly, helps Peter put her down on the bed.

There's blood everywhere. Laura's breathing is labored. At least she isn't striking out at them.

"Who did this?" Peter asks her. He pulls back her shirt, sees the wounds. They're oozing black. Her veins are black too. The poison, spreading.

She chokes out one word. "Argent." She reaches for Peter's hand. He feels her energy, her Alpha spark. She's trying to give it to him. He feels it through their bond, feels it trying to expand his chest.

"No, Laura, you need it," Peter says shakily. "You need it to heal."

Laura jerks her head. "Take it."

"What's happening?" Stiles asks.

Peter looks at them, his boys. "She's dying."

Derek whines, low in his throat, full of pain. He comes closer. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Stiles puts his arm around Derek's waist, stays close. Derek shakes his head. "Laura, you can't…"

"We don't have any wolfsbane," Peter says in a low voice.

"That's just aconite, right? I can… I can try to find some?" Stiles asks. He looks like he's ready to run out the door and search.

But Peter shakes his head. "It won't be the right kind. She's been poisoned with it and the only way to heal her is to use the same kind, burn it out of her."

Derek whines again. He puts his head down near Laura's, tries to scent her.

"Peter," she cries out. "Take it!"

They can't be sure the Alpha spark will come to him if she's left to die on her own. It could go to Derek; they're siblings and logically he's next in line.

Peter doesn't want to lose his Alpha, his niece. They aren't close, never were, but she's family and pack and Derek loves her, Derek needs to make peace with her and Peter can't think of this now, he has to act, but his emotions are tangling his tongue, tripping his heart. There are tears in his eyes.

He reaches up and cups her cheeks. "It's okay, Laura. I'll take it. Pass it on."

He's afraid for a moment, for a splintered, hellish moment, that it won't work. That she's too weak to do what she needs. That he'll have to kill her to get it.

But the moment is gone and Laura gives it to him, the monumental thing, the spark that's been passed down through their pack for centuries, from Alpha to Alpha. He closes his eyes against the weight of it, cries out as it settles on his shoulders like a lead mantle. His breath leaves him, he feels like he's been punched.

Then he feels Derek, not just as his packmate but as his beta, his. Laura's there in the bonds as well, but she's fading. Faster now, without the spark.

He opens his eyes and Stiles gasps. They must be burning red now.

For Laura, he does the only thing he can and drains her pain. She smiles. There's a smear of black at her lips and he knows it's just a matter of time now.

"Derek," she says, a weak whisper but he hears her and puts his head on her chest. Over her heart. Laura folds a hand over Derek's head, runs her fingers through his hair. Her mouth opens, maybe to tell her brother something, but then she coughs and there's black liquid bubbling out.

"I'm sorry," Derek says. He's crying.

Laura's not going to hold on much longer, not now that she's a beta. She holds Derek's hand. Says, "Not your fault."

Derek gasps. "But…"

Laura shakes her head. "Not your fault."

Peter knows she's talking about multiple things. The fire. The distance between them since then. Her own lack of understanding when it came to Peter and Derek's relationship.

Peter turns away and gives them their last moments.


"Is this it?" Stiles asks, pointing out a patch of purple flowers. They've been walking for hours in relative silence, looking for the right components for a werewolf burial. The rope, they had. The wolfsbane they have to seek out. It's a tense time. Peter and Derek are grieving. Derek shifted to his wolf form almost immediately after Laura breathed her last and hasn't changed back. Stiles is trying to support them as best he can, and Peter's still getting used to the Alpha power inside him.

Derek moves closer to the flowers and huffs. Peter nods. "That's it. Be careful with them. They may not be as dangerous to you as to us, but wolfsbane is still a poison."

Stiles nods and pulls gloves out of his waistband. "Don't worry. When you told me to bring gloves, I listened."

They bring the wolfsbane back to the cabin and prepare Laura's body for burial. Once she's surrounded by the braided rope and wolfsbane, she becomes a beautiful black wolf. She looks peaceful, Peter thinks. He and Derek bury her a short walk from the cabin. Stiles hangs back, a constant dependable presence.

They clean the cabin, air out the scent of pain and death. Peter holds Derek and Stiles close to him at night and thinks. And thinks. Stiles sleeps close, his face pressed against Peter's side. Derek's even closer, though he hasn't reverted back to human yet, and he's flopped half on top of Peter.

When Peter closes his eyes he sees flames. Not the horrible fire that took his pack and left him scarred, but an inferno of righteousness. The fire spirals into the symbol of revenge, and Peter has purpose. It burns within him.

When he wakes, he knows what he has to do.


"Peter, no," Derek begs. He's shifted back just to try to stop Peter. "You can't go after Gerard, he's too dangerous!"

Stiles hangs back, saying nothing, but he smells distressed.

"He killed Laura. It's only a matter of time before he comes after us, as well," Peter says.

"At least let us help you," Stiles murmurs.

Peter puts a hand on Stiles's shoulder, reaching out to pull Derek in, too. "You can help by staying here and staying safe."

Derek clings and Stiles isn't much better.

"He's a bad man," Stiles says. "He deserves what's coming. But you… just be careful, okay?"

Peter kisses his temple. Kisses Derek, too. "I will be."


Peter takes his time getting to the village. He has a lot of thinking to do, grief to come to terms with. Laura was his Alpha and niece, and though they weren't close, he loved her in his own way. She was never the Alpha to him that Talia had been. He never let her in that far. But he respected her and cared what happened to her. His revenge isn't just lip service. He's full of fury and sadness, though it's simmering by the time he reaches the village.

He skirts around, avoiding traps. Some of them are easy to spot. Others, not so much.

He doesn't get caught, though.

He spies Chris Argent from a distance. For a moment, he thinks Christopher looks up and sees him, too. But then he goes about his business and it's like it never happened.

Peter settles in a tree and waits for nightfall. After it's dark and the moon and stars are the only illumination, he slips down and follows in Chris's footsteps.

When he gets to the Argent home, he hears arguing. He slips inside easily through the unlocked front door. Gerard and Chris are yelling, loudly, from the next room. Peter stops to listen.

"I'm not letting you kill another innocent!" Chris says.

"Animals! Monsters!" Gerard says. He's panting, spitting. Near-rabid. Peter feels his lip curl into a snarl. His niece was no monster.

"You've broken the Code," Chris says, and Peter peeks into the room.

Each of them has a knife on the other. Gerard's back is to Peter. Chris's eyes flick to Peter and back as if he's seen nothing.

"It's outdated," Gerard snarls.

Peter can kill Gerard easily. Just another few feet…

But something gives Peter away. Gerard spins, slashes at Peter, and that's when Chris moves in. His knife slides right into Gerard's back, between the ribs. Peter can't see clearly but he knows Gerard's dead before Gerard himself knows it.

The old hunter's eyes widen and then he goes down. Peter watches him die dispassionately, then looks at Chris for an explanation.

"It was my responsibility," Chris says.

Peter nods. He understands family obligation, though he can't help but feel disappointed that he wasn't the one to end Gerard's miserable life. He tilts his head and Chris misinterprets his mood.

"I don't suppose I can convince you not to kill me?" Chris asks dryly.

"You're not my enemy," Peter tells him.

Chris frowns. "How can you know for sure?"

Peter huffs. "Are you trying to talk me into it?" He shakes his head. "I remember you. And so does Stiles."

"The Stilinski boy? He's alive?" Chris asks.

Peter looks down at Gerard's still corpse. "No thanks to him."

"I felt bad that I couldn't do more," Chris says. "But he's okay? Stiles?"

Peter nods and is suddenly overcome with the urge to get back to his pack. He turns to leave. There's nothing left to do here.

"Wait."

Peter stops and turns back to look at the last remaining Argent.

"Is there anything I can do?"

The only thing Peter wants at this point is to be left alone. Except suddenly he remembers the home he wants to build. Somehow, he thinks maybe having someone to help might not be a bad thing. It would assuage the guilt he can smell coming off Chris and provide the Hale pack with an ally. Peter smirks. "There is something…"


Apparently, the Stilinskis used to own a mule, and it's been working for the Argents. Peter leads it home loaded down with food and supplies. Other wagons are on their way, headed up by Chris and some trusted friends. Peter and his pack can start work on the new house soon.

Derek must hear him coming, and he and Stiles run out of the cabin to greet him. Well, Derek greets him. Stiles is bowled over by the sight of the mule.

"Roscoe!" he exclaims, and hugs the thing around the neck. Peter and Derek exchange an amused look. Stiles grins at Peter and then he has an armful of happy human. Peter holds on to both his boys and leads 'Roscoe' to the woodshed. It will have to do as a shelter for now.

"Everything okay?" Derek asks, not physically checking him over but looking as if he'd like to.

The future is coming closer with every breath. The house will be built. The pack will be strong.

Peter kisses Derek's temple and leads his pack into the cabin. "Everything is perfect."