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Alpha Peter and the Ragtags

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Derek has been one of Stiles' best friends for years, almost as long as Scott. They've been friends through Stiles' mom's death, and through Derek's ex trying to burn the Hales' house down. So Stiles only feels slightly badly for ogling Derek's hot uncle.

Stiles hasn't seen Peter since the man packed up and left for college in New York, back when Stiles and Derek were kids and wow did he grow up well. Stiles had just come over to the Hale house to drop off Derek's textbook for his biology course, and here is Peter, lounging in the living room like he hasn't been absent for the past 15 years. (Stiles never found out why Peter stayed in New York for all those years, but from what Derek has said, he think it has something to do with Talia and pack politics.)

Peter is broader and sturdier in the shoulders than Stiles remembers. His strong jawline and goatee...yep, check off two of Stiles' turn on boxes. And that thick neck and cocky smirk...fuck him sideways. And every inch of exposed skin is covered with tattoos, one even curling up the side of his neck and wow, Stiles has been staring for a while.

"Hello, Stiles," Peter says, his voice like silk.

"Peter?" Stiles stammers. "You're back."

"Astute as ever," Peter says.

"Oh, fuck off," Stiles says. Peter just laughs. "What are you doing here?"

"Well, this is my family home, you see," Peter says.

"I thought you stay in New York because Talia doesn't want two alphas in Beacon Hills?" Stiles asks.

Peter actually looks surprised at that. Score one for Stiles.

"You know about us? For how long?" Peter asks, eyes flashing red. Stiles is man enough to admit that that sends a little thrill through him.

"Uh, since like fifth grade? You guys have never really been subtle," Stiles says. "Too many fangs."

"You always were the clever one," Peter says, standing and circling Stiles like the wolf he is. It gives Stiles a great view of the tattoo of what looked like a protection sigil on Peter's neck that disappears down under Peter's shirt and damn it, that's another box to check off. "To answer your question, my dear sister realized after the wendigo incident that having two alphas to defend the territory might be advantageous."

Stiles shudders at the memory of that bloody month.

"Why does it smell like arousal in here? Oh, gross," Derek says, walking in to see Peter still standing quite close to Stiles.

"Now I know why Stiles never came up in conversation when you visited me," Peter purrs. "And here I'd assumed you'd had a falling out."

"No, I just know he's exactly your type," Derek says and wow, minute to process that please? Peter's face curls into a smirk. "No," Derek says. He takes the book from Stiles' hands and pulls him from the room. "Absolutely not. You are not having sex with my uncle."

"What?" Stiles yelps, face turning bright red. "I didn't - I wasn't - I didn't do anything!"

Derek shoos him out the front door, says, "You and Peter are enough trouble on your own, I don't want to know what happen if you two got together," and slams the door in Stiles' face. Rude.

Stiles texts Cora that night in his usual, subtle way.

To: Cora Snarls
Tell me about Peter

From: Cora Snarls

To: Cora Snarls
Because I'm curious and you telling me would probably make Derek mad

From: Cora Snarls
Well, in that case, what do u want to know?

To: Cora Snarls
This is why you're my favorite. What's he going to do in Beacon Hills? It's not like we have a lot of corporate law offices

From: Cora Snarls
He quit corporate law after like 2 years to open a tattoo shop

To: Cora Snarls
.........I can't tell if you're fucking with me or not

From: Cora Snarls
I'm not. Her rented that empty space that used to be a consignment shop or something on Main and is gonna set up shop

To: Cora Snarls
I have no words

From: Cora Snarls
That's a first

To: Cora Snarls
Bite me, baby Hale

From: Cora Snarls
I think you'd rather my uncle did

To: Cora Snarls
I hate you

From: Cora Snarls
No you don't

No he doesn't.

The next day, Stiles valiantly tries to talk himself out of driving by Peter's new shop and is successful for all of ten minutes. He's on summer break from college and has nothing to do, so sue him.

Cora had made it sound like Peter was going to throw some chairs in an call it good,but when Stiles gets there, the shop is a full-on construction zone. Two by fours, tools, and sheets of plywood are scattered everywhere. Stiles walks in and sees Peter with a sledgehammer over his shoulder, wearing a dark t-shirt and jeans. Stiles' mouth goes dry at the way the muscles play under the tattooed skin of Peter's arms.

"Cora isn't usually one for under exaggerating, but wow, not what I expected," Stiles says.

"They don't expect much from me," Peter says. "I subscribe to the theory of working smarter, not harder, and apparently that translates to 'lazy'."

"It translates to being smart with your resources," Stiles says.

"I knew I liked you," Peter says.

Stiles usually isn't a fan of manual labor, so he surprises himself when he says, "Need a hand?"

Peter looks at him calculatingly for a few long seconds before holding out the sledgehammer.

"I find smashing things to be quite therapeutic," Peter says.

Stiles thinks about his frustration with Scott, all but ignoring him all summer for Allison, and says, "Done."

"Hit the drywall only, not the studs," Peter says.

Stiles misses the way Peter's eyes rove over him as he slips off his plaid over shirt. Stiles nods and hefts the sledgehammer up, almost knocking himself over with the first swing. Peter chuckles and comes up behind Stiles, slipping his thick, tattooed arms over Stiles'.

"Lift like this," Peter says, guiding Stiles' arms. "Then swing forward like this. It gives you more power, is less likely to injure you, and you have more control over where you're hitting."

Peter's voice is right in his ear and there's no way he doesn't feel the full-body shudder that runs through Stiles. Peter pulls away, hands trailing over Stiles' skin, to grab a second sledgehammer and start work further down the wall. If Stiles stares at his ass, that's his own business.

By the time they're done knocking down the wall, Stiles is sweaty, disgusting, and more sore than he's ever been. He flops down on the ground, uncaring of the drywall dust covering him.

"Ow," he says, staring at the bare ceiling. "I know this is supposed to be good for you, but at what cost?"

"Increased stamina and muscle mass aren't perks enough?" Peter asks, peering down at Stiles.

"I'm lithe, okay, and my stamina is just fine, thanks," Stiles says. Peter snorts.

"Would you feel better if I told you I ordered pizza?" Peter asks.

"Yessss," Stiles says. "I'm surprised you eat pizza with all that." Stiles motions a hand up and down Peter's body while he talks.

"Werewolf," Peter says. "And I'm not one to deny myself life's simple pleasures."

"Yeah, pleasures are...good...oh, here's the pizza guy!"

The pizza guy turns out to be Boyd, a man Stiles, Derek, and Scott had gone to high school with. A bit of a loner, but he and Stiles had gotten on well enough.

"Looking good, Stilinski," Boyd says dryly as Stiles wipes sweat and drywall dust from his red face.

"Oozing sex appeal," Stiles says. "How's it going, man?"

"Living the minimum wage dream," Boyd says while Peter signs his receipt. "Have a good night, guys."

They eat in relative silence, each periodically taking a swing from the two liter of root beer Peter had ordered. Stiles wonders if Peter likes it, or if he remembers that it's Stiles' favorite.

"Do you have Boyd's phone number?" Peter asks out of the blue.

Stiles chokes on his pizza. Peter thumps him on the back until he's done coughing.

"I didn't know you like guys," Stiles says, voice still a little rough.

"He's not my type," Peter says with an eye roll.

"Does that mean you do like guys?" Stiles asks.

"I've had male lovers," Peter says. His eyes narrow. "Is that a problem, Stiles?"

"What? No! I have too! Boyfriends, I mean, not lovers because I'm not like forty. I've dated guys, I just didn't you you did," Stiles stammers, then just gives up. "No, I don't have Boyd's number, why?"

Luckily, Peter looks amused instead of offended. He taps the top of the pizza box and Stiles just looks at him, confused.

"The drawing," Peter clarifies.

"Oh," Stiles says. The picture on the box is beautifully detailed, depicting the Italian countryside with a little restaurant in the foreground. In the corner is the signature V. Boyd. "Yeah, Boyd drew a lot when we were in high school. We had art together and Boyd's stuff wiped the floor with everyone else's."

"Hm," Peter says,

"Why?" Stiles asks again.

"I was hoping to take on an apprentice," Peter says. "What do you know about him?"

"Uh, strong and silent type, Good in school. He got into a bunch of different colleges, but his family is kind of poor, so he stayed home to help them out," Stiles says. "His little sister went missing when they were out as kids and I don't think he ever really stopped blaming himself."

Peter hums again, tracing over the pizza box picture's lines.

"I don't think he'd take an unpaid apprenticeship," Stiles says. "I'm pretty sure he's kinda struggling as it is."

"I don't believe in unpaid internships or apprenticeships," Peter says. "It's a way to keep the poor out of good positions because only the kids from rich families can afford to work for free. No, if you're working, you should be paid."

"I can see why corporate law didn't work for you," Stiles says.

It's dark by the time Stiles leaves, feeling very accomplished but also a bit like a limp noodle. He's showered and about to fall asleep when he gets a text. Groaning, he checks his phone and lo and behold, it's Derek.

From: Derek Eyebrows
Why does Peter smell like you?

Of course his wolfy nose would pick up on that

To: Derek Eyebrows
I helped him demo the shop

From: Derek Eyebrows
How do you even know about the shop?

To: Derek Eyebrows

From: Derek Eyebrows

To: Derek Eyebrows
Does it really bother you? I'm not going to try to sleep with him or anything, dude. He's just a cool guy to hang out with and turns out smashing up a building is a good distraction

There's radio silence for a few minutes and Stiles starts to worry that Derek is actually upset with him and he starts to panic. Derek is his best friend, of course he'd stop. He'd never talk to Peter again if it made Derek upset. Before he can work himself into a full-blown panic attack, Derek texts back.

From: Derek Eyebrows
I'm not mad, Stiles. Just be careful, okay? He has a reputation

Stiles is tired of telling him that he isn't trying to fuck Peter, so he just sends 10-4, roger that before rolling over and falling asleep.