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Take Me To Church

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Peter's day had been fairly boring, right up until he heard a very familiar heart beat.

And wasn't that annoying. Heart beats weren't supposed to be that unique, especially not when it came to someone he wasn't particularly close to.

But that didn't stop him from knowing that Stiles was hovering nervously outside of his door.

He waited for a few seconds to see if the boy was going to knock, or maybe even go away, but nothing happened.

Stiles just kept standing in the hallway.

He wasn't even pacing.

Just standing there with his heartbeat going a mile a minute.

Peter rolled off of his couch to go stand in front of his door a wait.

Stiles showing up randomly on his doorstep when he shouldn't know where Peter lived in the first place was intriguing enough for him to open the door at all.

If Stiles decided to leave without knocking Peter would open the door and embarrass him. And if he did eventually knock Peter could still open the door and embarrass him. A win win situation. For Peter, not Stiles.

Finally, after several long minutes of Stiles seeming to be having a silent heart attack he quietly knocked on the door.

Peter instantly swung the door but any snide remarks about Stiles' lack of courage died at the sight of him.

Peter realized it had been almost two months since he'd last seen Stiles and the time had obviously not been kind to him.

He was paler than normal, with considerably darker bruises under his eyes, and he'd obviously lost quite a bit of weight.

Suddenly Stiles showing up to see Peter went from being mildly interesting to very disconcerting. If something was so wrong with him Peter would not be the first person he went to.

Peter stared at him, waiting for Stiles to say something, to give him some hint for why he was there.

Stiles seemed to draw himself up, for a moment he was the same boy who had looked at Peter's alpha shift and told him he wasn't scared. He'd been lying but Peter loved his tenacity.

"I need your help." he said, and for some reason there was absolute certainty that Peter would help him.

Either he was just that desperate or he needed help with something that he knew Peter would enjoy doing. Or maybe he had a tantalizing offer to exchange for Peter's help.

Either way he'd caught Peter's attention and he wasn't about to turn down such amusement.

"Please come in." he said with a smile that he knew showed off too many teeth and stepped out of the doorway, sweeping his arm out to gesture Stiles in.

Stiles didn't even seem to notice his smile, just seemed to sag in relief and quickly slipped past Peter into the apartment.

As he passed Peter caught his sent, strong enough to suggest he hadn't had a shower in a few days but that wasn't what caught Peter's attention.

It was the heavy scent of sickness and stress sadness that hung around Stiles like a fog.

Oh yes, something was terribly wrong with Stiles.

Peter knew he wasn't anything like some avenging angel sent from heaven to save Stiles from his problems but suddenly he found his motives for helping changed from just the entertainment value to a genuine desire to help.

How annoying.

He closed the door and turned to look Stiles over again, this time with his new knowledge.

He still looked exactly the same, but now it was obvious whatever stress he was under steamed from whatever sickness he was suffering from.

It seemed like Stiles' confidence was wavering for some reason, whether that was because he was face to face with Peter or because he was suddenly having self-doubt Peter couldn't say but he felt his fingers twitch with the strange desire to grab Stiles' hands to stop his thumb nails scraping hard against the sides of his index fingers. He was pressing so hard he'd actually managed to draw a tiny bit of blood on one hand.

"How can I help you today, Stiles?" he asked, and he knew he was coming off like an asshole but that was kind of who he was. If he suddenly acted concerned for Stiles' well-being Stiles would instantly become suspicious of Peter.

Stiles bit his lip hard for a moment, no doubt questioning his life and his choices that had led him to Peter of all people.

Finally he quietly said "I want you to give me the bite."

It was like a punch to the gut for Stiles to show up in his home and ask him for something that Stiles himself had made sure Peter couldn't give him.

"I see you've forgotten that I'm no longer an alpha." Peter said with a sneer.

Strangely, Stiles flinched back like Peter had physically struck him.

It took a moment for Stiles to compose himself but when he did determination had come back to him. His eyes were practically shinning with it.

Or maybe that was just tears.

"I know that. But I also know that Deucalion hasn't left town yet."

Peter felt his breath actually catch at Stiles' implication.

It took all of Peter's considerable self control to stop himself from instantly agreeing.

After all, if Stiles was willing to go to all the trouble it would be to make Peter an alpha again when he had a perfectly serviceable alpha for a best friend, there must be more going on.

"What would your dear alpha Scott say if he heard you suggesting I kill someone that he pardoned?"

Suddenly Stiles was furious. It welled around him, almost completely covering up the sickness in his scent. He bared his teeth and puffed up like he might attack Peter for daring to ask questions.

"Scott" Stiles hissed, so harshly spittle actually came out of his mouth, "Said that everything would work out on it's own."

Peter felt his own rage on Stiles' behalf.

What sort of person looked at Stiles when there was so obviously something wrong with him and thought 'oh he'll be fine eventually.'?

It infuriated him that Scott could magically become some jumped up little alpha and still do nothing to help someone who was obviously suffering.

All Scott would have to do is take one single sniff of Stiles' scent to know that there was something going on.

And while it was entirely possible that Peter was missing an important piece of information on why exactly Scott wouldn't want to give his best friend the bite, Peter was self-aware enough to know that he wasn't going to turn down Stiles' request.

Becoming an alpha again would be enough for him to agree, but add to that the possibility, slim as it might be that Stiles might want to join Peter's pack after Peter had bitten him was a truly tempting idea.

Peter regretted several things in his life and biting Scott McCall over Stiles was just another in a long list. Not taking the opportunity to bite Stiles when he could have was less a regret and more of a wistful thought. Peter hadn't known very much about Stiles when he'd offered him the bite but he'd known enough to not do it without his consent. Peter had forced the bite onto two people Stiles cared about and while Stiles seemed to accept Peter's 'I was insane' explanation Peter knew if he'd bitten Stiles when he had been expressly told no it would be one step too far over the line and Stiles was ruthless enough that he would have put Peter back into the ground the moment he'd gotten up.

As it stood Peter might want to instantly agree but he also didn't want Stiles to suddenly lose his sense of desperation and resent Peter for taking advantage of him, despite him coming to Peter in the first place.

"What about Derek? Or those two little murderous twins Scott adopted?" Peter asked, just to cover all of Stiles' other options, even though he knew exactly why Stiles wouldn't ask either of the twins for the bite.

Stiles frowned at him like he couldn't quite understand what Peter was doing, which just helped to reinforce how awful he must feel. "You and I both know why I don't want any fucking thing to do with those two murdering fuck heads." he paused and looked a tiny bit upset when he added "Derek hasn't been answering his phone and I have no idea where he is and I'd rather get this done and over with sooner rather than later."

So Peter was Stiles' third choice. At least that was better than fifth.

"Alright." Peter said calmly and Stiles' head snapped up like he couldn't believe Peter would agree with him. "Do you have a plan for how to deal with Deucalion?"

Stiles' mouth dropped open, shocked. Peter had no idea why. Stiles wanted Peter to be an alpha again so he could get the bite, he would obviously have a plan for how to go about doing that.

Suddenly the tension Stiles had in his shoulder disappeared and scent of relief and a tiny little bit of hope curled around him. He pulled his hand out of the kangaroo pouch of his hoodie, holding a ziplock bag of what Peter was positive was wolfsbane.

"It's a pretty straightforward plan." Stiles said with a grin that was already wolfish.

Peter didn't hesitate to grin back.


The plan went off without a single hitch. Stiles had texted Deucalion from Scott's number, and that fact that Scott had Deucalion's number at all made Peter's stomach turn, told him that Stiles was sick and Scott was worried that in his inexperience he would accidentally hurt him and could he please help?

Deucalion had almost instantly replied that of course he would help, it wasn't any problem at all.

And while Peter showing up instead of Scott would clue Deucalion in that something was up, Stiles' obviously sickness would just make him think that Stiles had contacted Deucalion behind Scott's back.

Peter sat in the car to help lull Deucalion into a false sense of security while Stiles went up to knock on the door of the little rental cabin that Peter was pretty sure Deucalion wasn't residing in legally.

Peter's hands flexed rhythmically on the steering wheel to stop himself from flinging himself out of the car and stand threateningly behind Stiles, to make sure that Deucalion wouldn't be able to do anything before Peter had his claws in him.

Stiles acted his part beautifully, calming Deucalion's suspicions enough to make him lower his guard just enough he didn't see the handful of wolfsbane coming before it was in his face, blinding him and choking him and Peter was out of his car and on top of Deucalion in seconds, claws ripping into his throat before he could even blink the wolfsbane out of his eyes.

Peter felt the power and the heaviness of the alpha spark flow over him, through him, fill him up with that little piece of himself he'd been missing ever since he'd dug his way back from the dead.

And the fact that he wasn't just doing this because he wanted to make the feeling that much sweeter.

He hovered over Deucalion's corpse for several long seconds, breathing deeply, trying to ignore the little bits of wolfsbane floating around him and the strength of the scent of Stiles' sickness.

Finally he felt more in control of himself.

The thought that soon, very soon, he would have a beta, a beta that chose him. Just because Peter wasn't his first choice didn't nigate the fact that Peter had been a choice at all.

He stood up and walked across the little cabin to the tiny kitchen and washed his hands. Peter might find the blood satisfying but he thought that Stiles might appreciate the gesture.

Hands clean again, metaphorically at least, he turned to look at Stiles.

Want coursed through him with an intensity that almost blew him over. Emotions coursed through him, almost too fast for him to identify before they were replaced by something else. Want, need, protectiveness, rage, desire all mingled together for a moment and felt himself start to shift without conscious thought, something that hadn't happened since he'd come back.

Let himself calm back down while he struggled to understand what exactly he was feeling and why he was feeling it in the first place.

The want was easy enough. The combination of Peter already wanting Stiles to be in his pack, both because of the boy's clever, sharp mind, and because he'd always been the kind of person who saw something someone else had and wanted it for himself. It was very rare he felt that way for a person but the abysmal failure Scott turned into he wasn't surprised that he wanted to take away his toys.

He had to forcibly remind himself that Stiles had asked for his help, that, while he might not have another choice he still went into it with his eyes wide open to Peter's faults.

Need was relatively easy to understand. He was an alpha again, he needed a pack to keep himself stable and Stiles was offering that to him on a silver platter.

Protectiveness was odd, but not shocking. Stiles was sick and needed help and he wasn't getting it anywhere else. Peter wasn't very surprised he would feel protectiveness over him.

Even the rage made sense. Stiles had helped kill Peter the last time Peter had been an alpha. There was a very slim possibility that once the bite took Stiles would decide he didn't need to deal with Peter anymore and kill him again. Well, if that turned out to be the case Peter was sure he could figure out a way to either make himself invaluable to Stiles or be able to convince Stiles that he wouldn't use his powers on him the way he'd used them on Scott.

It was the desire that shocked him. He'd noticed, in a general sense that Stiles was attractive, or maybe alluring. Intriguing? Whatever the word was there was something about him that caught Peter's attention. But it had never been desire before. Stiles was a teenager, admittedly a smart, world weary one, but still much younger than Peter was.

But of course Peter wasn't a saint. The situation he was in wasn't one that happened every day. And while the want for Stiles to be pack outweighed Peter's desire for him Peter wouldn't turn Stiles down if he wanted to eventually change the dynamic of their relationship. Really, the best Peter could do was let Stiles set the pace for them.

Finally satisfied that he at least had some idea of what was going on and what he was going to do about it Peter let himself walk up to Stiles, only just managing not to touch him.

When he felt himself sway even closer he forced himself to ask once more. "Are you still sure this is what you want?"

Stiles licked his lips nervously and Peter couldn't stop himself from following the movement.

"I'm sure." he said quietly. His heartbeat was fast but steady, no lie this time around. With a deep breath Stiles pulled up the left sleeve of his hoodie to hold his wrist in front of Peter, determination clear on his face.

Peter smirked in amusement and curled his hand around Stiles' wrist and tried not to gasp at the shock he felt as their skin met.

Stiles did gasp, his mouth falling open in shock and oh, he'd felt it too. That was interesting.

Without breaking eye contact Peter brought Stiles' wrist up to his mouth, very gently ran his nose over the veins there, taking in Stiles' scent one last time before it changed forever.

He heard Stiles' heartbeat skip and a new, interesting scent curled around him, barely there, just enough to make Peter's mouth go dry.

But Peter wasn't going to let himself get distracted when he was moments away from making his first real beta.

He carefully fit Stiles' wrist in his mouth, fangs breaking the skin, and Peter didn't even try to stop himself from licking away the blood that had welled up when he finally pulled his teeth away.

The scent grew and he could feel Stiles' hand trembling in his grip. He nuzzled his cheek against Stiles' skin and the two of them stood there in their own little bubble of silence for several minutes.

When Stiles suddenly jerked away from Peter it almost made him jump out of his skin in shock.

For a moment the scent of sickness grew stronger, and then Stiles was stumbling over, falling to his knees and vomiting black thick viscous mucus onto the floor.

Horror filled Peter at the sight. There was absolutely no reason the bite shouldn't take, and it definitely shouldn't have affected Stiles so quickly.

Peter quickly knelt next to him, his hand coming up to uselessly touch Stiles' back. He was shaking hard when he finally seemed to calm down.

He scrubbed his  sleeve over his face, wiping away tears and spittle and the black bile. "What the fuck." he said, the words barely even a whisper, voice hoarse from the strain.

Peter carefully pulled Stiles away from the puddle, leaning over to look at it even though he very much did not want to.

His nose wrinkled at the scent of it but he realized there was something... off about it. Something other than it's very existence.

He leaned closer, frowning at what was in the center of the puddle. He reached out, and even though he didn't really want to, he carefully picked the thing out.

He stared at it, struggling to remember why it was important. And then he realized what it was he was holding.

It was a fly.

Stiles hadn't just been sick with some terminal human illness.

He'd been infected by something.

"What is that?" Stiles whispered, voice shaking hard with fear.

"It's what was making you sick." Peter muttered distractedly.

"That was in me?!" Stiles yelped, grabbing Peter's hand to bring it closer to his face. "Is this a fucking fly?"

Peter looked up at him, saw the horror and fear on his face, and stood up, very carefully bring Stiles up with him.

Stiles leaned hard into his side, no doubt in shocked over having to reevaluate what had been happening with his own body.

He gently guide Stiles to sit down at the tiny little kitchen table and set about finding something to put the fly in, not wanting to lose it before he figured out what it was or why it had been inside Stiles.

He settled on a glass and some cellophane with a rubber band to make sure it stayed inside the glass.

He washed his hands again and filled another glass up with water to give to Stiles.

Stiles blinked at the glass for a moment, before he took it and carefully drank it down.

Satisfied that Stiles would eventually sort himself out Peter went about cleaning up the scene of the crime.

He found some garbage bags under the sink and went around the cabin picking up Deucalion's personal belongings and putting them in the bag to dispose of later.

They'd decided in the car not to just leave Deucalion's body lying around for anyone to find and part of that was making sure no one had a reason to look for it in the first place.

Scott would be the only person who would care even a little bit if Deucalion went missing but Stiles had been sure Scott would be so distracted by Peter becoming an alpha again and Stiles' turning that he wouldn't notice for some time, and no doubt by the time he did he would probably just assume Deucalion had left town like he should have the moment he could have. It had been very foolish of him to linger when there were still people who cared about the ones he had killed. And someone who wanted an alpha spark.

Peter found a little bonus sitting right there on the bedside table. Two very old, very rare books that he currently didn't have in his library.

He'd take those home with him. He was sure as long as Stiles got to read them he wouldn't mind. Stiles was pragmatic like that.

Satisfied he'd picked up everything he paused to check on Stiles only to find he methodically scrubbing the floor to clean up the blood and vomit.

He glanced up at Peter and raised his eyebrows questioningly.

"Feeling better?" Peter asked, pleased by how fast Stiles was handling things.

"Nope." Stiles said, obnoxiously popping the p. "But I'm a stress cleaner so this works out well for me."

Peter huffed a little in amusement. He shouldn't have expected anything else. He held the books up with a smirk. "Found something fun you'll like."

Stiles almost initially lite up in excitement. He grinned, pleased and actually starting to look a little better. Even though the room was starting to smell like bleach Peter could still catch the sweet scent of relief in the air.

He took everything out to the car before coming back with his little travel shovel. He picked up Deucalion's body and heaved his over his shoulder.

"You going to be okay alone for a little bit?" he asked, because he knew Stiles would like it. And maybe a little because he was genuinely worried.

Stiles gave him a little smile, like he could read Peter's mind, and said "I should be okay. I'll just finish cleaning up and then take a nap in the car if you take too long."

Peter rolled his eyes. "Have fun." he snarked and he could hear Stiles chuckling as he walked out into the woods to bury the body.


Peter was a very thorough grave digger so it took him more than an hour to find a good place to dig and then to actually dig the grave. Even with werewolf strength it was back breaking and time consuming work.

When he finally got back to the cabin, covered in grime and probably blood, Stiles was curled up in the passenger seat of his car, fast asleep with the sweater Peter had left in his backseat curing him, his nose buried in the fabric.

Peter did one last quick walk through of the cabin, just to triple check neither of them had missed anything before he climbed into his car.

He stared at Stiles for a long moment, taking in the way the car was slightly warm because of his body heat and the heavy scent of his exhaustion that hung in the air.

There was something else in the air alongside it. Peter thought that it might be contentment. The thought made him reach his hand out and gently stroke over Stiles' hair.

He almost couldn't believe the night had happened at all.

He was an alpha again, he had a truly lovely beta, not just any beta, but one that had chosen him.

And the way Stiles nuzzled into his hand even in his sleep made satisfaction curl hotly through him.

Stiles made a sweet soft sound and squinted his eyes at Peter.

"Done?" he slurred and Peter couldn't help the little smile he felt on his lips.

"Everything's all taken care of." he said quietly. "Go back to sleep."

Stiles muttered in agreement and burrowed deeper into Peter's sweater.

Peter stared up the car and smiled as he pulled away from the cabin. He had an uncharacteristically optimistic feeling that everything would work out.


Stiles was still obviously exhausted by the time Peter pulled up to his apartment building.

He worried for a moment that it would be a trial to get Stiles inside but the moment he was standing he practically fell against Peter's side, curled a little so he could tuck himself under Peter's arm.

It took basically no time at all to get Stiles into his home, to steer him gently into his bedroom.

He carefully let go, waiting a moment to see if Stiles would collapse now that he was standing on his own but he just swayed gently for a moment before he seemed to shake himself awake.

Peter pulled a pair of drawstring sweatpants out of his dresser, along with one of his plain t-shirts, the kind with a regular neckline instead of a v-neck.

He knew Stiles would just feel uncomfortable if he thought Peter wanted him to wear something he would consider revealing.

He handed the clothes to Stiles and watched in amusement as bafflement crossed his face before he looked up at Peter with his beautiful eyes wide with confusion.

"Planning to sleep in your jeans?" Peter asked, eyebrow raised challengingly.

A slow pleased smile crossed Stiles' face and once again he felt strangely satisfied.

Peter pulled out his own sleep clothes and went to take a shower.

He moved more by rote, once again pondering his reactions to Stiles.

Last time Peter had been an alpha he never felt satisfied. Not even when he'd killed the people responsible for his family's deaths. Not even when he'd torn out Kate Argent's throat.

The most he ever felt had been viciously determined. Concentrating fully on his goals, only being distracted by his unhelpful beta and his little sidekick that Peter never should have underestimated the way he did.

Was this a side of being an alpha he never felt before? Because he'd never had a real actual beta or even a true pack mate? Derek could pretend to be pack all he liked but it had never felt like it did with Stiles.

Stiles, who's bite hadn't even started to take yet. What the hell had that fly been? He'd set the cup down on the kitchen counter with his two new books.

He picked the glass up and glared at the little black smudge in the bright lights of his kitchen.

It was still just a dead fly.

In the morning he would have to start making calls.

He walked back into his bedroom and stopped dead in the doorway.

Stiles had dropped his clothes right on the floor but he barely even noticed, too distracted by the sigh of Stiles curled up Peter's bed.

It was a truly lovely sight.

Something that Peter thought he might be able to get used to.

Certainly something he wouldn't mind getting used to.

He absently picked Stiles' clothes up and pulled everything out of his jeans pockets, setting it all down on the bedside table closest to Stiles.

He dropped the clothes into the dirty clothes basket and then took the whole thing to the hall closet the washer and dryer were kept. He put everything in the washer before he went to find his laptop.

Once he had that he went back to his bedroom to stare at Stiles some more.

He was probably being creepy but Stiles was asleep and probably wouldn't care anyway.

He very carefully slid into bed, moving slowly so he wouldn't accidentally wake Stiles up.

Once he was settled he opened up his laptop and started writing emails.


Hours later a phone ringing woke Peter out of a deep sleep.

He fought back a snarl of annoyance at the rude interruption.

Anyway Stiles was making enough noise to distract him

He watched in bleary amusement as Stiles struggled to find his phone, slapping uselessly at the mattress in front of him and then managing to knock his wallet and keys off of the side table before Peter took pity on him and leaned over him to pick the phone up.

He handed it to Stiles, who took it with a grunt that might have been thank you.

Peter shamelessly stayed right next to Stiles, letting his hand lightly brush against Stiles' arm.

Stiles made a garbled sound that vaguely sounded like hello and Peter heard Scott's voice over the line.

He fought back a groan.

"Hey, where are you?" Scott's voice came out tiny from the phone speaker.

The scent of pure fury rolled off of Stiles, even stronger than it had been the night before when Scott had been brought up.

"Oh, I didn't know you'd care about where I am." he hissed out, and even Scott, as oblivious as he was wouldn't have been able to miss how angry Stiles was.

Scott made a sort of impatient noise. "Look, I'm sorry I upset you, okay?"

Stiles took a long deep breath, no doubt fully prepared to tear apart Scott's terrible half assed apology apart but Scott didn't give him enough time to say anything.

"I talked to my mom and she said I really fucked up...She told me I needed to call and make sure you didn't do anything rash."

The oh mighty True Alpha needed his mommy to tell him when he was being a terrible friend. How pathetic.

"What did she think I was going to do?" Stiles asked, voice suggesting he knew exactly what Ms. McCall expected him to do but wanting Scott to say it.

"She went over to see your dad and you weren't there but he know. So she thought that maybe you...panicked... and hurt yourself or something."

Peter felt rage on Stiles' behalf. 'He know.' wasn't the least bit enlightening to Peter on what exactly Stiles' father had been doing but whatever it was Stiles knew what it was, because Peter could smell the salt sweet scent of tears. He couldn't help reach his hand out to Stiles, to remind him that he wasn't alone. That Peter was there and listening and would help him if he needed it. Or at least he hoped that was what the light touch of his hand against the back of Stiles' free hand meant.

The fact that Stiles instantly turned his hand over to twine their fingers together helped.

"It sounds like I should be talking to your mom, not you." Stiles finally said, voice quiet. Peter silently agreed.

Scott made an indignity sound. "You're my best friend! I wanted to make sure you're okay!"

"Wow, Scott." Stiles murmured. "Where was this concern when I was in the hospital scared out of my mind over dying a slow and terrible death?"

"The bite could kill you too!" Scott yelled.

Stiles hummed thoughtfully. "Certain death vs fifty percent chance of death. I know which odds I like more."

"We're not talking about this again Stiles! The tests came back negative! There's nothing wrong with you!" Scott yelled loud enough to make Stiles flinch back from the phone.

Peter was moving before he'd even realized it. He slid the phone out of Stiles' slack grip, hanging it up without taking his eyes off of Stiles.

He was visibly shaking, fear and doubt filling his scent and making his heartbeat skyrocket.

How dare Scott say something like that.

How dare he make Stiles question himself. Question Peter. Question Stiles' whole damn world view.

Stiles looked up at him, tears still clinging to his eyelashes for a moment before they were falling.

"You can call him back later." if he's still alive, Peter didn't add. Not that he would ever kill Scott without Stiles' permission. He was sure that no matter how badly Stiles had just been hurt killing Scott would be a step too far for Stiles to accept.

Peter slowly pulled Stiles up so he was sitting up, he reached out, oh so gently cupping Stiles' face in his hands and letting his eyes flash for a moment, something most betas found reassuring, a reminder that their alpha was there and would help them.

"Stop that train of thought. I could smell the sickness on you in minutes. Just because Scott doesn't use his senses the way he should doesn't mean that you're going crazy. The fly's in the kitchen if you need to see it." he said quietly, but fumly.

Stiles sniffled and seemed a little bit calmer but he was obviously still very upset so Peter let his face go picked up his hand instead.

He'd spent hours the night before doing research on what could have been wrong with Stiles. He'd gotten several replies to the emails he'd sent out and he'd crossed referenced everything he'd learned to make sure he was right about what he thought had happened.

He carefully pushed the sleeve of Stiles' sweater, Peter's sweater, up his arm so they could both look at his wrist. And that confirmed Peter's theory.

"Do you see this?" Peter asked, running his finger so very softly over the still visible bite mark.

Stiles' heart skipped a beat.

"I have a theory." Peter stared and Stiles huffed softly at him, the visible sign that the bite hadn't taken but wasn't going to kill him proof that something had been going on. "The fly was some kind of magical creature that was trying to possess your body."

Stiles made a deep wounded sound. He instantly curled closer to Peter, hiding his face against Peter's shoulder.

"Sweetheart, I have to ask." the endearment fell from Peter's lips without conscious thought, but he wouldn't take it back, not when Stiles' scent with sweet and his heartbeat skipped. "Did you wake up in strange places? Or waste time?"

Stiles almost instantly started crying and Peter pulled him closer, pressing him tight to his chest and rumbling soothingly, one hand stroking up and down his back.

That reaction alone was enough to tell Peter he was right.

Eventually Stiles' tears slowed and he tilted his face away from Peter's shoulder to ask "Why did the bite get rid of it?"

"That's a bit of a gray spot I think. The general consensus I could gather seems to think you can't be two different things at once. Although I'm not sure why that would mean the bite didn't take."

Stiles' grip on Peter's shirt tightened suddenly. "I'm not-" he took a shuddering breath before he stared again. "I'm not disappointed, that I'm not going to turn into a werewolf."

There was no lie in his heart beat this time.

"That's alright sweetheart." Careful, gently, don't scare him away.

Stiles sat up, their faces inches apart. "You're okay with that?"

"Choosing to be a werewolf instead of dying is different than wanting to be one in the first place."

"Am I still-" Stiles cut himself off before he could finish his thought but Peter knew what he was asking.

"Do you want to be?" he asked neutrally, even though every part of himself was screaming yes.

Stiles seemed actually thought about it which made Peter feel better about the whole thing.

"I had a lot of time to think while you were off burying a body." he paused and licked his lips but Peter hardly noticed, he was actually holding his breath to better hear what Stiles had to say. "I thought... if we could work so well together like that... then maybe we could make it work the rest of the time."

That was a relief to hear even if he'd hoped that was what Stiles would say. "I'm very willing to put in the effort Stiles."

Stiles swayed closer, so close Peter could feel the heat of his blush, tantalizingly close-

And of course Stiles' phone rang.

Stiles jerked back as if he'd been shocked, eyes huge. He gave a relieved little laugh as he realized what the sound was and put his hand over his heart and.

He really was sweet, wasn't he.

Peter couldn't his smile, not when Stiles smiled at him, a little awkward, a little shy but his scent was full of contentment and Peter felt that they would have plenty of time. He wasn't in a rush, he wasn't going to rush Stiles.

Stiles picked up his phone hesitantly to check the caller id.

He sighed softly. "Ms. McCall..."

Peter slid out of bed and held his hand out for Stiles to take. "I'll make breakfast." he said neutrally.

Stiles looked amused but let Peter pull him out of bed. He glared down at the phone but did eventually decide to answer it.

Peter walked down the hall towards the kitchen, Stiles right behind him.

"Stiles." she said, and he could hear the relief in her voice. "Are you okay?"

"I'm doing better." Stiles, the adorable brat, said vaguely.

Peter started pulling out breakfast food while Stiles bypassed the bar stools to drop his phone down onto the counter and then unceremoniously pull himself up to sit right on the counter.

Peter stared at him for a very long moment, trying to decide if he was annoyed or not. Eventually he decided he wasn't because he didn't know a single other person who would dare sit on top of his kitchen counter. It was just proof that Stiles wasn't the least bit afraid of him.

It actually felt...nice to think that.

Ms McCall wasn't done talking yet though so Peter listened while he started on making omelets. "Stiles... Scott said that you were worried enough about what was going on that you asked him for the bite."

Stiles hummed noncommittally. "Did he tell you what his answer was?"

She hesitated for a moment before she answered. "Yeah, that he said no because you were obviously not thinking about the consequences of being bitten by a werewolf."

Stiles was quiet for a moment, no doubt furious at Scott for making it seem like Stiles had been panicking. Obviously he'd been desperate but Peter didn't think he'd panicked. It helped that he already knew Stiles had weighed all of his options before deciding on Peter.

Well now that I've had some time to think about things I've realized that being a werewolf would only add to my problems so I think it's a good thing Scott turned me down when he did."

Peter turned to look at Stiles, eyebrows raised questioningly.

Stiles winked at him. Ah, he was making a joke at Scott's expense.

Ms. McCall sighed in relief. "I'm glad you feel better Stiles. You should probably come home and check on your dad, he isn't doing as well right now."

Peter was still facing Stiles and saw the way he flinched hard at Ms McCall's words.

There was obviously something very serious going on with Stiles father, but for some reason loyal to a fault Stiles, who would do absolutely anything for his father, wasn't interested in dealing with him.

Which meant that Stiles knew exactly what was wrong with him.

"Well, he has you to take care of him so I'm sure he'll be fine." Stiles said bitterly cheerful.

And didn't that tell Peter quite a bit.

Stiles viciously jabbed the button to hang up the phone and then carefully set it down on the counter next to him.

The omelets needed to cook more so Peter stepped close to Stiles, close enough that Stiles' knees brushed Peter's hips.

Peter leaned closer and Stiles' legs fell open naturally. He put his hands on the counter on either side of Stiles' hips and felt Stiles' thighs close around Peter, pulling him closer.

Stiles' arms came up and slid up Peter's back, his face dropped onto Peter's shoulder and he hugged him tightly.

Peter hugged him right back, trying not to be too annoyed that this was the second time in an hour that two different McCall's had so greatly upset Stiles.

"You want to know what's going on." Stiles said sounding a little monotone. His fingers were rubbing rhythmically against Peter's shoulder blades, and it was distracting.

"You'll tell me when you're ready." he said confidently.

Stiles huffed a gently breath against Peter's neck.

He felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up but not in the way that meant he was in danger. He'd never felt that before.

Stiles started slowly at first but then the story of his mother seemed to spill out of him, completely unable to stop them.

At some point the omelette in the pan started to burn but Stiles had refused to let Peter go, had clung to him like a koala so Peter had just picked him up one handed so he could pull the pan off the stove and turn the burner off.

Neither of them were feeling particularly hungry anyway.

He carried Stiles back to his bedroom, and Stiles almost instantly started talking again, wiggling himself around so he could sit in Peter's lap while Peter leaned back against the headboard.

By the time he was done Peter wanted to murder several people, being with Stiles' father and ending with Stiles mother.

He was so angry his claws had come out. Stiles stroked the backs of them with his finger tips, being careful not to cut himself.

Eventually Peter calmed back down, and thought that he might be able to get used to Stiles' rhythmic stroking. It was obviously a form of self-soothing that Stiles' couldn't seem to help but Peter didn't mind. It helped to ground his attention on Stiles' hands, to distract him from his desire to change the past.

Well, at least Peter could do something about the future.

He could scare the shit out of the sheriff, threaten him within an inch of his life.

But of course Stiles had a better idea.

"It's really a bit of poetic irony." Stiles said calmly, but there was mischief in his eyes. "A bit of 'You were so unhelpful I had to go out and find a new daddy.'"

And while Peter was sure Stiles was trying to make a joke after how heavy the discussion had been the desire that hit Peter was shocking.

Stiles' eyes widened, something must have given away Peter's reaction to him.

"Oh." Stiles whispered, mouth dropping open.

And, well, Peter already knew he wasn't a saint.

The kiss was so gentle, he could feel Stiles trembling under his hands.

"Oh." Stiles said again, when Peter pulled back. He grinned, eyes bright and beautiful. "Oh, I can work with that."

And pressed right back in for another kiss.

And Peter wasn't going to stop him when such a perfect opportunity had fallen literally into his lap.

Stiles slid his mouth to the hing of Peter's jaw, kissing his skin sweetly.

"I think Daddy has a pretty nice ring to it." Stiles murmured against his skin, mouth sliding lower and-

He felt teeth scrape hard against his neck and maybe, just maybe, Peter hadn't been as in control of the whole situation like he'd thought.

But, of course, that just made him want Stiles all the more.

Stiles giggled softly when Peter rolled, pinned him down. He looked up at Peter, so innocent, but not innocent at all.

Peter's perfect boy.