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Chapter Text

Stiles remembered the fight. Remembered trying to shove Peter off him when he saw the spell being cast. The werewolf had pulled him out of the way, but refused to move when Stiles tried to make him. He didn’t really remember anything after that except pain, blurry figures and someone moving him, nothing he can put together.

He woke up carefully, expecting the muscle pain that usually came with a fight. He didn’t get it. He sat up and felt no pain, other than a slight headache. He looked around and realised he only vaguely recognised his surroundings. It was the ‘spare’ room in Derek’s loft. The one they typically dumped Peter in because he refused to tell any of them where he lived.

Stiles stared for a moment, and then, with horrified curiosity, looked down at himself. He was shirtless, and way more buff then he was supposed to be. There was a light scar on his side, and Stiles vaguely remembered Peter being slashed in the side. He ran his fingers over it lightly, then blinked when he realised the scar was continuing to fade before his eyes. Oh God.

Oh God, he was in Peter Hale’s body.

“Derek!” He screamed, throwing off the blankets. Only after he did it did he think about the possible consequences, luckily whoever had taken Peter’s shirt had left his pants on.

Stiles tumbled from the bed and took a moment to lament that Peter’s werewolf body wasn’t countering Stiles’ natural state of flail. He ran out of the room and tripped over himself, managing to face plant on the floor, because this body was all wrong. He snarled as he pushed himself back up, his vision flashing oddly.

“What is happening?” a voice asked. Stiles looked up to see Isaac staring at him in clear confusion. It was probably fair, not every day you get to see Peter scream for Derek before face planting because he tripped over himself.

“Isaac!” Stiles exclaimed, “Where’s Derek?”

“He’s, you know, cleaning,” Isaac said slowly, “What’s wrong with you?”

“Fucking witches.” Stiles replied, getting back on his feet, “That is what’s wrong me. Where’s Peter? I mean me. I mean Stiles!”

Isaac stared at him for a long moment, in which Stiles debated the pros and cons of throwing him across the room, because he could probably do that now.

“Stiles?” Isaac eventually asked slowly.

“No, it’s Peter, I decided to act like a spaz today because it’s fun,” Stiles rolled his eyes, “Yes Stiles! Now, where the hell is my body because I don’t like Peter being alone with it.”

“He won’t be,” Isaac shook his head, “We had to take him, you… to the hospital. Concussion I think.”

“Great,” Stiles huffed, moving towards the stairs, and grabbing the rail before he could fall again. He growled when Isaac laughed, deep and rumbling through him. He stopped immediately and, fortunately, so did Isaac.

“Calm down.” the blonde rolled his eyes, “You look ridiculous, you must know that.”

“Isaac, why don’t you use your brain for a moment,” Stiles commanded, “I am a human in a werewolf body. I am new to being a werewolf and I’m in someone else’s body. Let’s not piss me off, ok?”

“Like you could take me anyway,” Isaac snorted, “C’mon, Derek should be back soon. Then we can do check on your body or whatever.”

“Joy of joys,” Stiles rolled his eyes. He let Isaac go first down the stairs and carefully followed him. He’d pretty much adjusted by the time he got to the bottom, and managed to walk over to the kitchen with… actually more than his usual grace. Looked like the werewolf powers were finally kicking in.

Speaking of which.

“Oh my God, I’m starving, what do you guys have to eat?” Stiles demanded opening the fridge.

“Uh, cereal?” Isaac offered, pulling it out of the cupboard, “Don’t raid Derek’s fridge.”

“I’ll raid whatever I want, I’m fucking starving,” Stiles replied, pulling out various foods, “Besides, Derek has enough to feed an army in here.”

“Yeah, it’s for when one of us gets hurt,” Isaac explained, eyes on the food Stiles was pulling out, “Healing uses extra energy, makes us hungry. You, uh, Peter was hurt pretty bad last night.”

“Sure sure,” Stiles shrugged, then actually saw Isaac staring, “You want me to make you some food?”

Isaac seemed to consider this, narrowing his eyes at Stiles. Stiles gave him a deeply unimpressed look in return.

“Alright,” Isaac finally answered, putting the cereal back in the cupboard. Stiles shook his head but started cooking omelettes with bacon and toast, in heaps. It was while he was cooking that Stiles started to finally notice the werewolf side of his new body.

He was used to his brain jumping around, a million thoughts at once, so he’d basically been ignoring everything that wasn’t immediate. Now though, now he had a quiet moment of (mostly) normal, and he realised he could hear Isaac’s heartbeat, Hell he could hear animals running around outside, the radio in a car that drove past. He could smell Isaac.

He smelt like what Stiles suspected was wolf, and a lot like Scott, which seemed to give the wolf in him conflicted feeling. On the one hand, Scott was Stiles’ best friend, his brother, but on the other hand, the wolf was Peter’s wolf, and to them Scott was the Beta who refused to accept them, who denied his own wolf, and constantly stood against them.

Stiles frowned, rubbing his chest thoughtfully. It had hurt the wolf, constantly facing his own Beta. Even know the wolf seemed on edge in the loft, the scents not comforting like Stiles had read pack mates were supposed to be.

Of course, Peter wasn’t really pack, he certainly wasn’t treated like it.

His wolf made a sad little whining noise. Huh.

“Isaac, I’m ba- why is Peter cooking?” Derek said in greeting, frowning at Stiles. Stiles blinked at him, taking deep breathe through his nose. Derek smelt earthier than Isaac, and the wolf smell was stronger, probably because he was a born wolf. He smelt like family, though the wolf was still wary of him.

Stiles decided that was fair, given the throat slashing of the past.

“Because Peter is actually Stiles, and Stiles was hungry.” he explained with a shrug, handing a plate off to Isaac and putting another piece of bacon in his mouth. “You want some? We’re gonna eat then you can drive us to the hospital to find my body.”

Derek stared for a moment before nodding, “Sounds like a plan.”

“You accepted that easily,” Isaac commented as Derek took a seat beside him.

“Peter would never talk with food in his mouth,” Derek answered absently, “Never mind the fact he’s actually cooking.”

“Good point,” Isaac laughed. “He’d just be creeping around and stealing food.”

Stiles felt the wolf in him rumble indignantly, wanting to defend Peter. It was like Peter and the wolf were two separate beings. Two separate beings that had grown up together and defended each other. The wolf trusted Peter, even when it was Stiles inhabiting their body.

Stiles looked over the other two as he gave Derek a plate and couldn’t help but wonder what their relationship with their wolf was. There was no way Scott had this kind of relationship with his wolf. Maybe it was different for born wolves?

“Why are you looking at us like that?” Derek asked, frowning at him again. Stiles took in a breath, separating the scents of confusion, wariness, and curiosity. Why did those things even have scents?

“Nothing,” Stiles shook his head, shoving food into his mouth, “Still adjusting. We should leave soon, the last thing I need is Peter talking to my dad in my body.”

“Right,” Derek replied, watching him blankly. Isaac was staring at him too. Stiles frowned for a moment, before he realised they were staring at Peter stuffing his face. He rolled his eyes at them.

Derek drove them to the hospital, and they arrived at the same time as Scott. Stiles eagerly turned towards him when he caught his scent. He almost went to hug his friend, but the wolf warned him off, warning him not to trust the one who would betray pack. Stiles probably would have ignored it, if not for the fact that Scott was stalking up to him with a scowl.

“What do you think you’re doing here?” he snarled. Stiles managed to keep the wolf under control, though he did bare his teeth, they were just regular human teeth.

“Relax, Scotty,” he said once he’d gotten over that instinct. “We’re living in the Twilight Zone, apparently. I’m actually Stiles, and when we were five I convinced you that if you ate seeds they’d grown in your stomach.”

“Stiles!” Scott exclaimed as Isaac snorted a laugh.

“That’s what you get for getting in my face.” Stiles shrugged, “Peter’s body reacts a lot on instinct. Don’t go jumping out at me.”

“Can we just go find the real Peter?” Derek sighed.

“Yeah, c’mon, mum told me what room,” Scott nodded. The group entered the hospital and Stiles immediately scrunched his nose up at the smell. It smelt sterile, yet over flowing with sickness. There was desperation, sadness and frustration in the air, along with faint traces of things like blood and infection.

“How do you stand it in here?” he asked quietly, putting a hand over his nose.

“Well, it’s not like the hospital smelt great before,” Scott shrugged, giving him an odd look. Derek on the other hand patter him on the back.

“Turned wolves don’t tend to pick up on as much as much.” he explained, “Peter’s a born wolf, so it’ll be a bit different.”

“Yeah,” Stiles nodded, “That makes sense.”

Privately, he suspected his ADHD wasn’t helping. It wasn’t as bad as normal, but he still felt like he had too much energy, he was just coping better. Which was good, since Adderall wouldn’t work in this body. It made sense his ADHD came with him; it was mental after all. Erica still had her epilepsy, it just took a lot more to bring on a seizure.

He followed the other three into the hospital room, pausing at the sight of himself sleeping in the bed. It was a very odd experience. He sighed and snagged the chair next to the bed.

“When do you think he’ll wake up?” Scott asked curiously, “You’re normally trying to escape after a couple hours.”

“Yeah, but your forgetting, I’m used to serious injuries in a human body,” Stiles pointed out with a snort. “Peter’s not. He’s used to being healed in a couple of hours, not trying to get up and move around despite being injured.”

“Right,” Scott nodded with a slight frown. Stiles went back to staring at himself. It was really weird… had he always been that thin? He knew he was gangly, but he looked… tired. He looked tired. Stiles looked down at his – Peter’s – hands. He’d known he was doing too much, trying to keep up his GPA and keep himself from becoming a burden to the pack. Never mind that he hardly slept before he started having nightmares of the things that went bump in the night.

It had been a lot easier to ignore the effect it was having when he wasn’t in a different body.

A change in the breathing made him look up, smirking at the pained expression on his face. Peter seemed to lay there a moment, before he tried to sit up suddenly, eyes flying open.

Stiles moved forward immediately, significantly faster than he expected. He managed to catch Peter as he gave a full body wince and swayed at the sudden movement. It may be Peter, but it was his body and he didn’t need it any more damaged.

His body looked up at him and blinked large eyes at him.

“Well, aren’t you the good looking one.” Peter greeted. Stiles imagined it would have been suave in his voice, but from Stiles’ body it was croaky and tired. Stiles could smell the pain Peter was radiating and gently laid him back down on the bed.

“Cute.” he offered, “Think you can manage not to damage the goods any more than they already are?”

“Why does it hurt so much?” Peter asked through clenched teeth.

“Exertion and being pushed around by beings with super-strength,” Stiles shrugged. “You have to stretch a bit when you can get up. It’ll hurt, but it’ll help in the long run.”

“Urg, human,” Peter sneered. It looked unusual on Stiles’ face, but not entirely out of place. Apparently his face could pull off Peter expressions, he wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

“I’m going to hit you with something for that when we swap back,” Stiles told him with sigh.

“I can’t hear anything,” Peter hissed in a quiet irritated voice. Stiles suddenly imagined everything from Peter’s perspective. If he’d grown up able to hear and smell everything he could right now, and suddenly woke up with it gone? That must be hard, especially for someone as wary as Peter.

Stiles was suddenly very conscious of the other three in the room.

“Scott, you should go tell Deaton what’s happening,” he said seriously. “Peter and I can come down when he gets released, or I get bored and carry him out, I guess.”

“Right,” Scott nodded, though he looked a little conflicted about taking orders from Peter’s body. Never the less he stood and dug into his pocket, “Here’s your phone, by the way.”

“Great,” Stiles nodded, “I’ll text dad about Freaky Friday.”

“And I’ll go tell Deaton and ask him to reverse it as soon as possible. It’s freaking me out.”

“You two should head back to the loft,” Stiles said to Derek “Someone needs to tell Erica and Boyd not to attack me if they see me.”

“Sure,” Derek agreed, though he seemed slightly uncertain. Stiles could smell his confusion, but the Alpha led Isaac out of the room so he didn’t question it. He turned back to see his own face staring back at him. That was disconcerting.

“How did you do that?” Peter asked.

“What? Make them leave?” Stiles clarified, shrugging, “You know, logic. I know it’s not one of the strong points for you werewolves, but it works. Plus this is freaking out everyone else.”

“It certainly is,” Peter scowled at him, “I’m not sure I can remember moving so much while remaining in one spot.”

“Don’t be cute.” Stiles snorted, reaching forward to poke a spot he knew would be sore. Peter hissed and pulled back, giving Stiles a glare. Stiles just rolled his eyes. “My dad’s going to come and visit soon. He has too, to avoid suspicion.”

“Of course,” Peter sighed, “You know, this isn’t quite how I imagined being inside you.”

“Please don’t make pervy remarks while in my body,” Stiles huffed, “The last thing I need is more gossip about me at school.”

“Dear Lord, I’m going to have to go back to high school, aren’t I?” Peter demanded, and Stiles learnt what disgust smelt like.

“Yep,” Stiles nodded, popping the P, “It’s going to be boat loads of fun.”

They sit in silence for a while. Peter moved a bit every now and then, wincing as Stiles’ muscles complain. Stiles watches him contemplatively. It was odd, being in Peter’s body, but that was all it was for him, odd. He got to experience what it was like to be a werewolf, but the wolf inside him was already connected to Peter, honestly when he stopped to think about it he was impressed the wolf hadn’t started fighting with him, since he knew it could tell something was wrong.

Maybe that was the witch’s plan. It would put both Peter and Stiles out of commission. Stiles would be busy trying to fight off Peter’s wolf from the inside, and Peter would be trapped in a body much weaker than he was used to. A body that was naturally slower and less capable, but also a body without the wolf. If the wolf was unhappy and uncertain, Stiles could only imagine how bad things were for Peter. He’d already let slip that he was uncomfortable, when he mentioned it being quiet.

He wasn’t sure he would admit it, but he was pretty sure Peter was going to have a harder time of it than he was.

Of course, with that thought Stiles refocused, only to find his body lifting up the blankets and reaching for the edge of his hospital gown with a curious look.

“Don’t do that!” Stiles hissed, smacking his hands away.

“Why not? I’m going to have to see eventually.” Peter replied with a raised eyebrow.

“Unfortunately.” Stiles rolled his eyes, scowling at Peter. “But I’d rather not be caught checking out my junk in the middle of the hospital.”

“I don’t think most of the hospital staff could have worse impressions of you at this point,” Peter pointed out with a chuckle. Stiles groaned putting his head in his hands. He’d been getting along better with Peter recently, but that didn’t mean the man didn’t drive him nuts.

“Look, we don’t know how long we’re going to be stuck like this,” Stiles sighed after a moment, “Can we just, agree not to do anything to horrifying in each other’s body’s? I’m the one who’s going to have to deal with the backlash of any trouble you cause.”

“It’s not like you’re the only one affected,” Peter sneered, “Honestly, what are you even wearing?”

“A shirt?” Stiles offered, sniffing at the shirt he was wearing. “I’m fairly certain it’s Derek’s. I asked him for a shirt and he threw this at me, so.”

“You’ve already learned scenting?” Peter asked curiously.

“Sure,” Stiles shrugged, “I think it helps that your wolf already has the experience, and I’m used to having a lot going on in my head.”

“You can sense my wolf?” Peter frowned slightly, rubbing his – Stiles’ – chest.

“Yeah,” Stiles nodded. “I think it can tell I’m not you. It’s a lot more relaxed here with you than it was back at Derek’s.”

“It would be,” Peter said in a thoughtful tone, though he didn’t seem to have any intention of clarifying further. Stiles just rolled his eyes again.

“Right, Peter just, please try to behave while you’re in my body?” he asked with a sigh. Peter may have the physical effects of Stiles’ poor sleep habits at the moment, but Stiles still had all the mental ones.

“I doubt it’ll be too hard,” Peter rolled his eyes. “I don’t exactly have a great urge to run around getting into trouble at the moment anyway.”

“It’ll be gone in a day or so. Don’t be a baby.”

“A day or so? I could stab you in the gut right now and you’d be healed in a couple of hours.”

“Yes, but you’d also be stabbing yourself, and that’s entering a world of issues.”

“Hardly, and I hope you don’t expect me to wear the kind of atrocities you do. I won’t lower myself to that.”

“There is nothing wrong with my clothes! God, you’re worse than Lydia.”

“Plaid, flannel and so many layers. There is everything wrong with your clothes.”

“Oh my god,” Stiles groaned, as Melissa was walking into the room.

“Scott told me what’s happening,” she said frowning between them, before turning to Stiles, “Fortunately you managed to avoid a concussion, though you’ve got a few bruises. I’ll release y- him, when you’re dad gets here.”

Then she smacked him in the back of the head with her clipboard. The wolf in Stiles rumbled but he made it shut up. It was Melissa for Gods’ sake.

“What was that for?” he demanded, clutching the back of his head, more out of reflex than pain. It hardly hurt at all, “He’s the one who’s hurt!”

“In your body,” Melissa snapped, “Which means you’re the idiot who got hurt last night.”

“This body was stabbed last night,” Stiles exclaimed, “Compared to the rest of them I did brilliantly.”

“Because they kept pushing you out of the way,” Peter commented lightly.

“Which is where most of the bruises came from,” Stiles sneered. Melissa looked slightly uncomfortable and excused herself to get back to work. Peter was looking at Stiles thoughtfully, so Stiles huffed and crossed his arms. He’d stay to see his dad, they’d get Peter released, they’d go see Deaton and this would be fixed in no time. Easy.

Chapter Text

“What do you mean you can’t fix it?” Stiles demanded, staring at Deaton in horror. He’d joked about Peter going to school in his place, sure, but he’d kind of been holding out hope that Deaton would just be able to fix it.

He was already on the edge here. Despite Scott’s faith in the man, Stiles had never really been able to trust him. He never told them the whole story, and definitely knew more than he was letting on most of the time. Stiles didn’t need to be a werewolf to know that. So, his usual mistrust was in place, but Peter’s wolf was also radiating discomfort. It seemed to loathe Deaton. Stiles was wary, but Peter’s wolf was downright hateful. Every time Deaton moved the wolf made Stiles hyper aware of it. If he got too close to Derek or Peter, Stiles had to fight the urge to bare his fangs and snarl at the vet.

His rising horror wasn’t helping.

“Unfortunately it’s not really my area of expertise.” Deaton shook his head and Stiles felt his eye twitch. “This kind of spell is very delicate. Usually I would suggest trying to get the witch who did it to reverse it, but…”

“But she’s rather dead,” Peter filled in, arms crossed and looking deeply unimpressed. “So we’re stuck like this until when, exactly?”

“Most spells like this have a deadline,” Deaton explained. “A couple weeks, a month; it’s hard to say how long this one will last. I can talk to some people and see if any of them knew the witch, and how long her spells typically lasted.”

Stiles swallowed back a snarl. He would not attack Deaton. He would not attack Deaton. He would not attack Deaton.

“There is, of course, the possibility the witch was attempting to set this up for someone else.” Deaton continued, apparently oblivious to Stiles fighting not to rip his throat out. As it was Stiles made a deeply irritated noise and turned on his heal.

He needed to get out. Not only was the wolf encouraging his mistrust of Deaton, but he could smell the faint traces of herbs, ash and what had to be magic. Deaton wasn’t as good at covering it up as he thought.

Stiles hoped to God his own spells worked better.

He turned sharply on his heel and headed for the door. He could still easily hear what was being said in the clinic anyway. He didn’t have to be dealing with Peter’s wolf snarling at every move Deaton moved. Though admittedly, it wasn’t too happy that he’d left the Hale’s in there.

“I’m going to check on him.” Scott said, sounding concerned.

“That may not be wise.” Peter murmured in reply, and was dully ignored. Stiles didn’t even need to turn; he could hear Scott’s footsteps and heart beat getting closer. Hell, he could smell him and all the scents attached to him; Allison, Isaac, the clinic, Melissa, Stiles himself. All the scents were beginning to drive him up the wall.

“You ok, buddy?” Scott asked, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m stuck in Peter Hale’s body.” Stiles snorted. “I’m not even in the vicinity of ok.”

“We’ll fix it,” Scott promised, sincerity in his voice. “We’ll find a way to fix it Stiles.”

“I know.” Stiles replied, turning to smile at his friend. Glad that for once he could hear his own heart to make sure it was steady. “We always manage it don’t we? Anyway, this day went shockingly fast despite all the body swapping and everything. I’m going to take Peter back to my place. Cook him and dad some dinner, I guess.”

“What about you?” Scott frowned.

“I’ll eat at Derek’s,” Stiles shrugged. “I’m not going to make dad pay to feed a full grown werewolf. Besides, I’m not sure he and Isaac have actually had anything other than take out since they moved in together.”

“Who says I want to feed you?” Derek asked as he walked out of the clinic, Peter in Stiles’ body close behind him, looking distinctly put out.

“I make excellent bolognaise with meatballs,” Stiles said with another shrug. “But I mean, if you want to have take-out again, feel free to order without me.”

“We’ll see you back at the loft.” Derek grumbled, turning away from them. Stiles smirked at his back.

“You going to be ok with him?” Scott asked as Stiles and Peter began to climb into the Jeep, which the Sheriff had been kind enough to bring to the hospital. Peter rolled his eyes, raising an eyebrow at Scott’s stink eye.

“What’s he going to do?” Stiles asked doubtfully. “Make me drive into a ditch? He’s way more likely to suffer from that at the moment.”

“Just be careful,” Scott said quietly. Possibly even quiet enough that human ears wouldn’t hear it. “Don’t underestimate him.”

“I think I’ve got it Scottie.” Stiles smiled, “Go get some sleep. We’ll probably all be meeting up tomorrow, and you know that usually ends in at least one throw down.”

“Always a joy,” Scott said. “See you tomorrow buddy.”

“Make sure you remember which one I am,” Stiles snorted. Scott turned towards his bike and Stiles pulled out of the clinic’s parking lot.

“I could have driven myself you know.” Peter commented lightly. He was much calmer in the car with just Stiles than he had been around any other people. Stiles suspected he knew the wolf wouldn’t let him do anything. Not that he wanted to, it was his body after all, but the wolf bristled when Stiles got so much as a violent thought towards what used to be his body.

Either that or Peter trusted him, and no matter how much time they’d been spending together, Stiles wasn’t sure Peter was still capable of actually trusting someone.

“I have to make sure dad’s eating right, anyway.” Stiles shrugged, “And I’m not completely comfortable handing Roscoe over to you, my body or not.”

“It’s a car.” Peter raised an eyebrow at him.

“See, this is why I’m driving, and you’re pouting,” Stiles informed him. “Roscoe is amazing and you are to treat him with the utmost respect. Seriously, not a scratch on my baby.”

“Or what?” Peter asked bemusedly.

“I will shave you,” Stiles warned, “All of you.”

“You have a strange idea of recompense,” Peter commented idly. Stiles glanced over at him. It was weird, seeing his body sitting so still. He was very alert, but that wasn’t entirely new, Peter seemed to be trying to keep up with everything, clearly unhappy about his new disadvantage.

“It’s not permanent.” Stiles found himself saying, though his eyes were back on the road. “You’ll have your werewolf senses back before you know it, and even if you don’t trust the pack to protect you, they’re not going to let anything happen to my body.”

“What about you?” Peter asked. “Are you going to miss it? I’m sure Scott or Derek could be convinced if you wanted to change after this is sorted out.”

“No way,” Stiles snorted. “Not only would you guys be screwed if we took away the human variable, but I’m not actually keen on fighting another entity for control. Even if it was my own wolf.”

“How is… my wolf?” Peter asked slowly. Stiles frowned thoughtfully.

“A lot calmer than I thought honestly,” he said frankly. “I don’t know if that’s being a born wolf, or being your wolf, or something else but… imagine if it wasn’t. Imagine if the witch had survived and your wolf started trying to tear me apart because I’m not you. Both of us would have been out of the game.”

“A very effective method,” Peter snorted, making no comment on his wolf’s behaviour, “if you don’t know anything about either of us.”

“Hey, for all we know today might have been a fluke,” Stiles pointed out. “I could attempt to tear everyone’s throats out tomorrow.”

“I doubt that.” Peter replied as they pulled into the driveway. “Even if you did, instinct would tell you to go for a human, and my wolf’s experience would tell you to go for the Argent.”

“Keep Allison away if I start losing control, got it.” Stiles rolled his eyes. “Now get out, I have a dinner to make.”

Peter obediently climbed out of the car and followed Stiles inside. Stiles glanced at the clock, nodded to himself and moved into the kitchen. Peter watched him curiously.

“You know I can cook,” he pointed out.

“I actually didn’t.” Stiles replied absently, moving around the kitchen with ease. “You never actually talk about yourself. I’ve learnt more about you from your wolf today that I have from you.”

“Been learning a lot?” Peter raised an eyebrow.

“Kind of,” Stiles answered with thoughtful frown, “it’s not like he can talk to me. It’s just… feelings. Your connections. Why didn’t I know you were an Omega?”

Peter just hummed absently. Stiles turned around to watch him with a critical eye. For a moment they stared at each other. It was hardly the first time they’d been left alone together, but there was a blatantly different power balance now. Stiles could hear Peter’s steady heartbeat, but he could also smell his discomfort with the conversation.

“I’m not, technically.” he answered. “Derek’s an Alpha, and the family bond is enough to prevent that.”

“But not enough to make you a Beta.”

“I fail to see you’re point. Neither of the current Alpha’s are about to accept me as their Beta, and any other Alpha that knew anything about me wouldn’t have let me stay around this long.”

Stiles could smell irritation mingling with Peter’s discomfort. He could feel the wolf whining in acknowledgement of what it couldn’t have. The worst part was that he couldn’t even argue. He only just trusted Peter, and even then it was mostly circumstantial. However, Peter hadn’t actually made any attempt to reclaim Alpha status, and Stiles didn’t doubt he could outsmart Derek or Scott if he put the effort in.

On the other hand, Peter knew more than the Pack did. Stiles knew he didn’t tell them anything, but he also had good instincts, and he risked his neck as much as the others did. Regardless, Peter wasn’t considered pack because Derek and Scott didn’t trust him. Could Stiles? If it was up to him, could he trust Peter with the lives of the pack.

He frowned at the man in his body for a moment. The weird thing was, he thought that maybe he could.

“I’d take you,” he said. Peter’s head shot up, eyebrows drawing together. They stared for a moment before Stiles heard the cruiser coming down the street.

“Dad’s home,” he announced, turning back to his cooking. He didn’t comment on the surprised spike he’d heard in Peter’s heartbeat; he hated it when the werewolves told him they’d caught him out, after all.

His dad eyeballed them when he first walked in before shaking his head tiredly. Stiles watched him as he hung up his gun and jacket. Stiles frowned at him slightly. It’d been hard to notice in the hospital, with the Sheriff smelling mostly of concern and confusion, and all the extra scents of the hospital confusing things, but he smelt… tired. Exhausted, really. Was that what Stiles smelt like lately?

Was his dad feeling as crappy as him?

Stiles shook himself out of his thoughts, putting two plates on the table.

“So, we’ll all be meeting up at the loft tomorrow,” he explained. “Peter can drive over and we’ll work out how to handle this with school.”

“I hope your GPA isn’t going to suffer.” John said with a raised eyebrow.

“I suspect I can manage.” Peter said lightly, looking at the food uncertainly.

“Sure, if you can actually convince anyone you’re Stiles.” John snorted, frowning a little at his own food.

“We’ll work it out,” Stiles repeated with a scowl. “Eat the damn food, it’s healthy. Peter will drive over tomorrow, remember she sticks in second.”

“I’m aware.” Peter rolled his eyes, eating the food with an unhappy expression.

“Good.” Stiles glared. “Don’t hurt my baby. I’ve gotta go dad.”

“Yeah, look after yourself kiddo.” John sighed, standing up to accept Stiles hug, despite the weirdness of hugging another adult man. “I don’t care if you’re a werewolf now, don’t go rushing into trouble.”

“Not a werewolf, just in the body of one.” Stiles assured as he moved towards the door. “I’ll be back to normal flailing Stiles before we know it.”

“Hope so, I’m going to miss it,” John smiled tiredly. Stiles smiled back before he stepped out the door. His dad’s heart hadn’t faltered over that, which was surprisingly comforting. He knew his dad loved him but…

Stiles shook his head and began jogging towards the loft. He’d promised a couple werewolves spaghetti bolognaise.

The pack all met up the next day. Erica and Boyd came over early enough that they demanded some of the pancakes Stiles was making. Stiles only had to hit then with the spatula once before they stopped behaving like wolves. A thought which had him chuckling to himself unabashedly.

Scott showed up next, with Allison in tow, and promptly whined that he didn’t get any of Stiles’ pancakes. Stiles had simply laughed at him. The smile he gave Allison may have been a little forced, but he’d blame the wolf, who rumbled unhappily whenever she made a sudden move.

Peter turned up next. He smelt like John’s healthy breakfast foods, so Stiles didn’t grill him on what his dad had eaten. Jackson and Lydia showed up last, just as everyone else was sitting down. Scott, Isaac, and Allison sat next to each other, while Stiles, not wanting to push his luck around the huntress, sat in one of the furthest seats away from them. Derek sat on his right and Peter on his left. Erica sat in Boyd’s lap on a love seat.

“What’s going on?” Jackson asked with a drawl, shooting a sneer at Peter. Stiles rolled his eyes at the familiar behaviour. Jackson had been tormenting him for as long as he could remember, he’d learnt to just deal with it. He felt Peter’s wolf stir slightly, but managed to calm it down easily.

The wolf was rather neutral towards most of the pack. As in, he honestly didn’t seem to care about them beyond the small threat he recognised in every other werewolf. Derek and Scott were notable exceptions, along with Allison, but Stiles wasn’t even surprised by that. Looking at Lydia and Jackson, Stiles found that Jackson was grouped with the other betas as something the wolf didn’t care about. Lydia, on the other hand, the wolf was… impressed? It was certainly slightly wary, but not enough that it saw her as a serious threat on her own. She was intelligent and the wolf, and therefore Peter, clearly respected that.

The wolf also seemed very amused when Lydia shot him a disgusted look and moved over to sit near Allison and Scott.

“Why is Stiles sitting with Peter?” She demanded as she sat.

“We’re bonding.” Peter purred out. Stiles gave him a horrified look. He didn’t even know his voice could do that.

“Well that’s disgusting.” Jackson commented flatly. Stiles sighed, he could already tell it was going to be a long day.

“The witch we fought apparently managed to get one last spell in,” Derek sighed, “Stiles and Peter have swapped bodies.”

Jackson and Lydia stared at them. Peter smirked at the pair while Stiles just rolled his eyes.

“Dear God I hope you do a better impression of me when you’re at school.” He said, unable to stop looking at the unfamiliar expression on his face.

“He’s going to be going to school with us?” Lydia demanded, disgust heavy in her voice. Stiles was glad he’d finally started getting over her, or that might have really hurt.

“I really can't afford any more absences," Stiles sighed, “As long as he doesn’t wreck my GPA, it’s the best option we’ve got.”

“Like you have a GPA worth wrecking,” Jackson snorted. “Going to have him raise your grade for you?”

“Yes, Jackson,” Stiles said sarcastically. “I got us body swapped so Peter could do my school work for me, because I need a better grade.”

Stiles felt Peter’s wolf reacting, though he couldn’t pin point why. It wasn’t an issue with having the pack around otherwise it would have started sooner. He kept half his mind focused on it, and the other half on the conversation and the flickering irritation with Jackson that usually cropped up when he thought about his childhood bully too long.

“Well, you always have been an idiot,” Jackson smirked. Peter’s wolf rumbled unhappily but Stiles ignored it.

“Look who’s talking,” he shot back, “Would you be passing anything if you didn’t have Lydia’s help? Aside from Lacrosse and douche-baggery 101?”

“Stiles, I don’t think-” Scott started, but Jackson interrupted.

“You think you’re funny Stilinski?” Jackson demanded, standing back up, “You don’t have the excuse of being a weak little human at the moment, you know.”

“I think I’m hilarious,” Stiles replied, standing up to match him, “and my being human never really stopped you, did it?”

Stiles didn’t understand why he was so agitated. Normally he wouldn’t rise to Jackson so fast, but it was like… it was like he had a feedback loop of growing anger. Peter’s wolf was picking up on his dislike for Jackson, and it was changing its feelings in response. Stiles opinions on things hadn’t changed the wolf’s before, its dislike of Scott hadn’t lessened even a little.

“I guess it’s just because you’re a pathetic idiot in any body” Jackson sneered.

“Oh my God, I have the second highest GPA in the whole school you complete moron!” Stiles exclaimed. “It’s like you’re not even trying. Having some performance issues, jack-ass?”

“Does he?” Stiles heard Erica ask quietly.

“Like you can talk Stilinki,” Jackson sneered.

“Enough!” Derek snapped, cutting off whatever else Jackson had been about to say. Jackson glared at the Alpha. Stiles just raised a hand to his head. Could the wolf look through his memories? Was that a thing? Maybe it had just locked onto thoughts of Jackson? Either way, Stiles was stuck with his memories of Jackson over the years at the forefront of his mind. None of them were particularly pleasant. It was making it very hard to keep in control and not just leap over and attack Jackson like the wolf was urging him too.

“Oh, you’re not even worth it.” Jackson rolled his eyes, apparently oblivious to Stiles’ struggle, “Just as pathetic as your idiot mall-cop dad.”

A snarl ripped through him as Stiles shot forward and threw Jackson across the room with all his new werewolf strength. Jackson hit the wall hard and Stiles leapt over the couch to lunge at him, ignoring the scrambling of the pack.

Jackson had managed to roll over, and was crouching in his beta form when Stiles tackled him. They rolled on the floor and Stiles ended up on top, digging his claws into Jackson’s shoulder. Jackson managed to get his legs between them and kicked Stiles off with two feet on his chest. Stiles skidded across the floor, snarling and baring his fangs right back at Jackson.

Jackson lunged first and Stiles slid expertly out of the way, striking Jackson across the side. Jackson twisted back towards him snarling, both injuries already starting to heal. They snarled wordlessly at each other, instinct leading them both.

Jackson charged again, and Stiles reacted without fully conscious thought. The wolf led with instinct, but Stiles mind had tactics and knowledge. Jackson lunged and Stiles grabbed his arm, twisting it behind his back until he heard the tell-tale crack of broken bone.

Jackson was a werewolf, he’d heal.

Jackson managed to turn and slash at Stiles leg. The move pulled his arm funny, but blood oozed from Stiles’ leg and Peter’s wolf saw red. Remaining human thoughts flew out the window as the wolf lunged again. This time he didn’t give Jackson a chance to get up again, rolling on the floor instead.

Stiles felt claws scrap at him, but he’d suffered that as a human, and they were already healing, so he wasn’t concerned. He clawed and snapped at Jackson as they rolled. The both landed claws in the other, but Jackson never managed to get hit fangs in. Stiles did. Several times. He could taste the familiar metallic tang rich on his tongue, and smell of blood and pain were heavy in the air.

Jackson just managed to buck him off before Stiles suck his fangs into the back of his neck. Not a fatal injury, but a sign of dominance. His fangs just scrapped the skin before he was skidding across the floor again.

The both prepared to lunge forward again.

“STOP!” Derek and Scott roared together. Jackson froze immediately, a small whine coming from his throat. Stiles, on the other hand, turned with a snarl on his lips, fangs bared and eyes glowing.

Scott stared at him, clearly startled, and the sight of his best friend looking shocked, worried, and just a little scared, had Stiles wrestling the wolf back under control. Most of his injuries had already healed. Jackson had managed a few scraps, but nothing too deep. Stiles however, had gone more for digging his claws in than swiping with them, knowing perfectly which move would take longer for a werewolf to heal from.

“You okay, Stiles?” Scott asked worriedly, reaching out to put a hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t,” Stiles ground out, eyes closed as he tried to get the wolf under control, “Just… give me a sec.”

Anchor. He needed an anchor. Ok, something to focus on. Scott? The very thought made the wolf growl furiously. Not Scott, then. His dad. That worked. He took a deep breath, carefully monitoring his breathing like he would with a panic attack. He made sure all his focus was on his dad, and felt the beta form melt back into Peter’s regular, human appearance.

“Ok.” He breathed out, opening his eyes. “Ok, I’m good now.”

“How did you do that?” Derek asked with a slight frown. All the betas were watching him with something almost like awe. Lydia had gone over to check on Jackson, and Peter was watching him with a curious look in his eyes and a smirk on his lips. Allison’s hand was moving away from where it had been hovering just above her boot and Stiles had to bite back a snarl at the threat.

“I think you’re forgetting who taught Scotty how to deal with being a werewolf,” Stiles replied, clapping Scott on the back, only to cringe as he noticed the blood his fingertips left on his friends shirt. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Scott assured. “It could have been worse.”

“Could have been worse?” Erica demanded. “That was awesome! Way to go Batman!”

Stiles let out a snort of laughter, only to remember the taste of blood in his mouth.

“Ugh, I’m going to shower, this is gross.” He sighed. “Someone should probably find Jackson some new clothes, too.”

Jackson grumbled something that Stiles determinedly ignored as he made his way through the loft to the bathroom. He pulled off the ruined shirt with a sigh. He may have come out ok, but Peter’s clothes hadn’t been quite as lucky.

Also, Peter went commando, and Stiles had so far managed to avoid actually taking his pants off. So, this was going to be a new experience.

With a huff Stiles stripped off the pants and go in the shower without looking down any longer than necessary. He knew Peter was a good looking guy – god damn werewolf and there supernatural good looks – but there was a very important difference between seeing with clothes on, and seeing with clothes off. Never mind touching and…

And there were werewolves down stairs so he was going to bypass that train of thought entirely.

Which was a pity, because jacking off would probably be an excellent way to relax.

Stiles was beginning to meticulously wash the slowly drying blood off his already healed injuries when he heard a familiar heart beat approaching. Seriously, did his heat always sound like it was going just a little too fast? He would have said it was the ADHD, but he was pretty confident he’d kept that in the swap.

Peter opened the door and slipped in almost silently. If Stiles hadn’t currently been in a werewolf body he wouldn’t have noticed, and wasn’t that a concerning thought.

“I brought you some new clothes.” Peter told him.

“Thanks,” Stiles replied. He stuck his face under the spray and scrubbed around his mouth, spitting out the bloody water that pooled in his mouth.

“You fought really well.” Peter commented lightly.

“I fought like someone who’s used to having to work twice as hard to be half as good in a physical confrontation.” Stiles snorted, “Besides, most of the effort I put in was making sure your wolf didn’t rip out Jackson’s throat.”

“Yes, why was that?” Peter asked, a frown in his voice, “I don’t remember having a particular affinity towards Whitmore one way or the other.”

“Yeah, I noticed that.” Stiles rolled his eyes, “I’m not really sure. The wolf seemed to pick up on my dislike of him. Which, really, of all the things that we could co-operate on, I did not need that one. Normally I can handle Jackson being an ass, but the wolf got angry, and it made me angry, which made the wolf angrier and next thing fangs and claws and blood.”

“You feed off each other’s emotion, that’s why werewolves often have stronger emotions than humans.” Peter explained.

“Wow, feeling bad for Erica.” Stiles snorted, turning off the water and stepping out. “Throw me a towel.”

Peter didn’t react immediately and Stiles looked up to find Peter looking him over thoughtfully. It was an interesting experience, and dear God he hoped he was more subtle than Peter was being.

“You know, I think that’s a little narcissistic, even for you,” Stiles commented with a raised eyebrow. “You gonna give me a towel or are you going to stare at yourself a little longer?”

“One should always take the time to admire beauty.” Peter replied with a smirk, though he got up and handed Stiles a towel.

“God, you’re even a creep in my body,” Stiles groaned. He didn’t miss that Peter remained in the bathroom as he dried and got changed. Without underwear, again.

“C’mon, I’m gonna make lunch.” Stiles sighed, “It’ll help me calm down.”

“Stiles is making lunch!” he heard Scott declare excitedly. Stiles sighed again.

“Do we need to have another talk about discretion Scott?” he asked pointedly, not even raising his voice.

“No,” Scott answered sullenly. “Can you make grilled ham and cheese?”

“Sure buddy.” Stiles smiled, walking right past the rest of the pack into the kitchen, “Sandwiches for everyone. Then research for the rest of the day, I guess.”

Chapter Text

The rest of Sunday was relatively peaceful. Peter had watched the pack carefully, the betas had been standing much closer to him than usual and even McCall had seemed to forget, at least a little, that it was Peter currently in his best friends’ body.

Lydia and the young huntress hadn’t seemed to have the same issue, both watching him with narrowed eyes whenever he had moved. Clearly the wolves were having a hard time distinguishing between them.

It made sense, of course. Peter was in Stiles body, and he hadn’t exactly done anything to alter Stiles’ scent. On the other hand, according to Stiles his wolf recognised the scent on some level. Although, there were other variables involved in that particular instance.

As far as Peter’s state went, he wasn’t having any trouble remembering he was in a body not his own. He repeatedly found himself sitting even more still than he normally did, trying to watch everything in the room because, as far as he was concerned, he might as well be deaf.

He couldn’t even distinguish hushed conversations in the same room as him, never mind the next room over. Not to mention the lack of scent. He didn’t understand how humans managed to survive like this day in and day out. He was going to go insane.

School. He’d said it would be fine, scoffed at the rest of the pack and ignored Stiles’ doubtful frown. He’d had breakfast with the Sheriff, who seemed to forget it was Peter only until he actually looked at him, or heard him speak. He’d even driven Stiles’ Jeep to school, determinedly ignoring the small part of him that kept… worrying that something would happen because of his lacking reflexes.

He’d gone through all that, only to get to school and find himself flinching almost every time someone walked past him. They were just humans, but he couldn’t sense them coming and it was nerve inducing. He kept waiting for the wolf to prompt an action, only to find himself feeling lonely and vulnerable when he didn’t get a reaction from the absent wolf.

Classes were easier, at least, with all the students sitting down. Though it didn’t stop his twitch if he got distracted and looked back only to find the teacher had moved.

Nevertheless, he had managed to keep his heartbeat relatively steady, which was a serious accomplishment with Stiles’ naturally rapid heartbeat, and was in his last class before lunch. He was admittedly curious to see how the pack would behave, but he wasn’t looking forward to having to sit in the high school cafeteria. Either way though he had to get through Chemistry first.

He did not miss high school.

“Fidget more.” McCall hissed from beside him. Peter hated that he actually had to put effort into simply being able to hear the command. He opened his mouth to reply, only to be interrupted.

“It looks like you two could use some time apart?” Adrian Harris suggested coldly. Peter jolted, hissing when his leg collided with the table. How did Stiles manage this every day? He very nearly bared his teeth at the man, before he realised it was only habit, not instinct, leading him to the action.

He turned his attention back to Harris and couldn’t help but wonder if Stiles would really hate it if he committed homicide while in the boy’s body. He probably wouldn’t be pleased, but they both knew Peter was skilled enough that no one would track it back to Stiles.

Momentarily distracted by the, not unpleasant, image of Stiles with blood on his hands and a body beneath him, Peter almost missed Harris’s question. Fortunately, he was tightly wound enough that hearing the teacher’s voice was enough to snap him back to attention.

“I’m sorry Mr Stilinski, am I boring you?” Harris asked, “Chemistry not interesting enough for you?”

“Of course not,” Peter replied, a smirk on his lips. “I think chemistry is just fascinating. It can be used for so many things. Pharmaceuticals, cosmetics, accelerants, cleaning products. It’s just so intriguing the way it plays into our lives.”

As he had hoped Harris had paled slightly at the implication, returning to lecturing the entire class rather than just Peter. On the downside, McCall was giving him the stink eye again. Peter turned to him with a raised eyebrow.

“At least try to act like Stiles,” the teenage Alpha commanded quietly. Peter paused, he could recognise the slight tint in McCall’s voice that said he was using the Alpha tone, but had no more inclination to follow the command than he had before.

“Not a wolf Scotty,” he smirked. “Alpha voice isn’t going to work on me.”

McCall blinked as if slightly surprised before his eyes narrowed. Peter just rolled his eyes and went back to lightly scripting notes. He may be bored out of his mind – if still very on edge – but he wasn’t exactly in the mood to deal with an upset Stiles. Besides, taking notes had to get him points with someone, even if it was only the Sheriff.

Eventually class came to an end and Peter collected all the things off his desk and placed them into his bag, resigned himself to following McCall through the halls. He could probably use the teen as a meat shield, at least. Peter followed Scott through the halls into the cafeteria.

Upon stepping into the cafeteria Peter took in the number of people wandering around, talking about things he couldn’t hear and immediately tried to turn back out of the room. Unfortunately McCall threw an arm over his shoulders and guided him towards the table the rest of the pack were sitting. Peter bit back a huff as he sat down.

“Enjoying high school yet?” Erica asked with a smirk.

“Well, I think I scared Harris,” Peter answered lightly, “It was somewhat satisfying.”

“It’s so much easier to remember you’re not Stiles when you’re talking,” the blonde rolled her eyes.

“At least you’re not living with one of them,” Isaac snorted as he sat down. “Do you know how weird it was to wake up and find Peter cooking breakfast?”

“Stiles made you breakfast again?” Scott whined, “That’s not fair.”

“Don’t tell Derek that,” Isaac replied with a chuckle, “Stiles made a restaurant worthy breakfast, I didn’t even know we had that stuff. Derek looked ready to sell his first born. Oh, Stiles told me to give you this, by the way.”

Peter looked down at the bag placed in from of him. He scowled at it, unable to repress his automatic attempt at scenting the item, which had been entirely useless since he was human. He watched Isaac grab another bag and start pulling food out of it.

“He made me lunch?” Peer asked bemusedly, curiosity making him open his own bag.

“Yeah,” Isaac shrugged. “He said you’d probably forget and the last thing he needed was to return to an underfed body.”

Peter just hummed thoughtfully as he pulled out the food. He began eating just to get attention off him. He hated the feeling he got when he realised his wolf wasn’t with him, but still found himself waiting for its response to something.

He didn’t even have to guess what how it would react. It would be preening about the fact that Stiles made him lunch, perhaps annoyed that Isaac had a lunch from the boy. Probably restless with the knowledge that Derek and Stiles were alone together now as well. They both tolerated him, but it was for very different reasons and he wasn’t sure how this would affect his standing with them.

Oh, he certainly didn’t care what these teenagers thought of him, pack or not, but Derek and Stiles… They were important. Derek was family, and whatever anyone thought, family was still very important to him. Stiles, well, Stiles was a conundrum. Peter had everyone else figured out. Even Lydia, brilliant though she was, wasn’t that hard to understand. Stiles though, he’d been contradictory since they first met, even when Peter had been unstable and leaning more towards killing anything that bothered him.

This body swap hadn’t helped to ease Peter’s curiosity. Oh certainly, he had got a view of Stiles he’d never gotten before – one that was truly marvellous – but on the other hand, looks around the boy’s room didn’t reveal anything new. Well, he had found a reasonably large box hidden in the back of the boy’s cupboard, but he’d been unable to find a key for it. Also the age of the box and the old looking note stuck to it that read ‘Just leave it Dad’, suggested it was from before he was introduced to the supernatural.

He couldn’t even get into the boy’s laptop, since he clearly had a better idea of security than his best friend. It made his chance to go through the Stiles’ things somewhat tedious. Especially since he didn’t actually want to push it to the point where Stiles would actually get angry at him.

They both recognised there would be a certain level of intrusion from this situation, which meant that they could both get away with sticking their noses in, to an extent. Peter wasn’t about to let the opportunity pass him by, and he knew Stiles wouldn’t either. Although, Peter did have an advantage, since Stiles didn’t actually know where he lived when he wasn’t at the loft.

Peter finished his food and resignedly headed to finish the day. Just a few more hours.

“Peter,” McCall hissed, grabbing his arm, a tad too tight in Peter’s opinion. “Where are you going? We have lacrosse practice.”

“I don’t even know how to play lacrosse,” Peter replied contemptuously, “but feel free to enjoy your sport of choice. However stupid it may be.”

“Stiles is on the team,” Scott snapped, “Just come.”

“I hate you,” Peter said loudly, but with enough sarcasm and faux amusement that no one gave them a second glance as McCall pulled him through the hall. Peter followed him, resigned to wasting an afternoon sitting outside watching teenagers run around and tackle each other. He didn’t understand why Stiles put up with this.

Peter sat and watched the group practise, fortunately not being required to do much else. He felt a small among of pity for Derek. He’d heard about the mess with Scott trying to play lacrosse and gain control of his wolf. He was surprised the boy hadn’t killed half the lacrosse team. Although, even Derek had admitted that was probably largely due to Stiles working to get his best friend under control.

It really was quite impressive.

When the coach dismissed them Peter quickly left the field, even as others dawdled to chat. He had no urge to ‘chat’ with any of these teenagers, and he was his own ride so he didn’t have to wait. It wasn’t until he was changed and ready to leave the locker room that he encountered a problem.

A problem in the form of three boys who were significantly bulkier than the body he was currently inhabiting and giving him very dark looks.

Was Stiles bullied? He’d mentioned it in the past, not anything that was still happening. It seemed… odd, that Stiles might be facing such regular, human dangers. On the other hand, maybe Stiles was just dealing with it in a discreet way, so didn’t feel the need to mention it.

Either way, Peter did not have a way to handle it. He also wasn’t really prepared to defend himself in this body. Werewolves were practically made for fighting. Humans were not.

“Scott,” he hissed quietly, knowing full well werewolf hearing would reach in here. If the idiot even bother to use it.

“Oh look who it is,” one of the boys sneered, “Stilinski.”

“That would be me,” Peter agreed, trying to think like Stiles. He might not have been great at fidgeting like him, but his twitchiness had made up for it. This was the first time he’d actually had to talk to someone who didn’t know who he was.

“Think you’re special because you’re the Sheriff’s kid?” a second one demanded. Peter fought not to roll his eyes, these idiots were pissed off with the Sheriff? How boring.

“You know what your dad did this weekend?” the third snapped.

“His job, perhaps?” Peter asked lightly. If he got beat up because of this charade, he fully intended to lay all blame on the idiot alpha who wasn’t coming to the rescue of his best friend’s body.

“Think you’re funny, Stilinski?” the first one snarled, grabbing the front of Peter’s shirt and slamming him against a locker. Peter grunted at the impact, this was a new experience for him.

“Usually, yes,” he nodded. Where were those god damn werewolves? He grunted again at another slam, hiding another call in the noise, “Scott.”

“I say we stuff him in a locker,” one of the boys commented. Peter couldn’t even be bothered differentiating between them.

“I say we teach him to have some fun,” one of the other’s chuckled darkly. Peter froze, sudden anger coursing through him. Even without his wolf, the implication of what they were planning to do to Stiles got him right pissed off.

“I say we back the fuck off,” he suggested. He was promptly thrown to the floor and soon found one of the other boys pinning him. He reacted automatically. Like instinct was guiding him, even if it was a week human instinct. He flipped them over and jabbed the boy in the solar-plexus, only to be pulled off him by the other two boys taking an arm each.

The boy on the floor wheezed and Peter couldn’t help but be impressed.

Not only had Stiles practised that move so much that it was an automatic response, but he was clearly stronger than he looked.

Not strong enough to beat the other two boys with brute strength, which Peter relied on perhaps a bit too much.

After a moment the boy did manage to get back up, and if Peter hadn’t faced off with murderers, psychopaths and mythical monsters, never mind having been all of the above, it might have been quite scary.

“Trying to be tough, we’ll show you,” the boy sneered, though he still seemed winded. Peter readied himself for a punch. He could probably deal with a human hitting him, although he wasn’t keen on finding out what it felt like to get hit when you were already bruised.

Suddenly the boy was tackled to the side and Peter felt the grips on his arms loosening.

For a moment Peter thought McCall had finally gotten his act together, but closer inspection revealed the curly blond hair of Isaac Lahey. An Isaac Lahey having some control issues.

“Lahey.” Peter snapped, grumbling internally. This was not supposed to be his responsibility. “Lahey! Isaac!”

Isaac’s head snapped around, eyes flashing beta gold at him. Peter just raised an eyebrow and tugged on his shoulder.

“You’re ok?” he asked, getting off the other boy.

“Yes,” Peter confirmed, “But you just tackled someone in the locker room. Let’s get out of here.”

“Right,” Isaac cringed, “C’mon, Erica’s waiting.”

Peter nodded, and turned. He snorted at the sight of Boyd holding the other two boys, looking uninterested. Boyd smirked back and let the pair go. They scrambled over the one Isaac had tackled.

“Just going to let your body guards do the work and run off?” the boy demanded. Peter had to give him credit. It didn’t appear he’d wet himself.

“They’re hardly my body guards,” he shrugged, “And you did attack me three on one, so I hardly think you can say it was unfair.”

Stepping out of the locker room Peter was immediately accosted by Erica. The she-wolf grabbed him in a hug, which she used to cover up the careful scenting she was doing.

“Oh honestly,” Peter rolled his eyes, “Let’s get you all to the real Stiles before any of you lose control again.”

“Oh, I’m sorry I saved your ass, Peter,” Isaac snorted.

“Stiles’ ass,” Peter countered with a snort, “It’s hardly my fault I can’t defend myself in a human body.”

“Stiles never has this problem,” Erica pointed out with a smirk. Peter frowned thoughtfully. The boys in the locker room hadn’t seemed to hesitate at all. That wasn’t the behaviour of people taking on a new victim. That was practised, like they believed Stiles was easy pickings. Sure, they were unhappy with the Sheriff, but it didn’t change the fact that this was clearly not as new as the other teens seemed to believe.

The betas rolled their eyes as Peter lapsed into thoughtful silence, started up a different conversation. He heard one of them mention Scott, and Isaac volunteered to text the alpha that they were heading to the loft.

No one argued about Peter driving and he was suddenly struck by how well trained Stiles had the betas. Not Derek, not Scott, but Stiles. The human of the group, the one everyone overlooked, and the betas were rushing to his recue, scenting him, letting him lead them. Even if they were bitten not born and didn’t consciously realise it, they’re wolves were clearly prioritising Stiles.

Peter had recognised that Stiles was more than he appeared. Even half out of his mind, he’d seen it, offered the boy the bite. When Stiles had turned him down he’d been a bit disappointed, but he’d also been smug because Stiles had revealed that hidden strength and determination that everyone else wrote off.

Despite that, and despite Peter’s constant wariness, he’d missed this. Stiles argued with everyone in the pack, bickered and insulted, but at the end of the day he stood by them, and they’d all learnt that and returned the favour without even thinking. Peter had missed it because he’d rarely seen them interact outside pack meetings.

On the other hand though, Stiles hid a lot. Peter knew Stiles had his secrets, it was part of why they got along. They were both, constantly, pushing buttons and trying to uncover some new secret about each other.

This whole mess was doing nothing to deter Peter’s curiosity about Stiles.

The betas climbed out of the car eagerly when they arrived, only to stop after a few steps, all of them sniffing curiously. Peter scowled at them. If he didn’t know better he’d say they were taunting him. When the trio rushed into the house Peter just sighed and followed after them. Clearly it wasn’t danger as they’d been practically climbing over to get inside and there hadn’t even been a flash of fang.

Upon entering the loft Peter made his way to the kitchen, where he could hear faint noises of a scuffle, and paused in the doorway. He couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at the image before him. He’d never expected to see himself warding three teenage werewolves off while wearing an apron.

The apron itself had a warning sigh on it, followed by the message: ‘Complaints To The Cook May Be Hazardous To Your Health’.

“Did we even have the ingredients for all this?” Isaac asked, attempting to sneak around Stiles to the cooling rack on the bench. Peter couldn’t entirely blame them, now even he could smell the delicious aroma from Stiles’ baking. It was truly mouth-watering.

“Of course not,” Stiles scoffed, grabbing the back of Isaac’s shirt and all but tossing him back to the other two betas, successfully interrupting Erica’s next attempt. Peter smirked at how gentle Stiles managed to be despite physically tossing the other werewolf. Stiles continued, “Derek and I went grocery shopping.”

“Where is Derek?” Boyd asked.

“Working out,” Stiles snorted, “I think he’s trying to regain some manliness. Apparently grocery shopping with me is emasculating.”

“Or it could be that when you came back you started baking.” Peter pointed out with a smirk. Stiles opened his mouth to reply, only to freeze and turn his full attention on Peter.

“What happened?” he demanded stepping forward, and lifting up Peter’s shirt to examine his bruised chest. Peter hissed slightly as Stiles poked at it.

“At least take me to dinner first,” he said tightly.

“Oh, now you sound like Stiles,” Erica snorted.

“You got into a fight,” Stiles accused, ignoring the banter. “You have to be careful after a fight! I don’t want to get my body back just to find you’ve broken something because you didn’t take into account the damage that can be done when you’re already injured!”

“Well, perhaps you should explain why they were so comfortable with the idea of attacking you.” Peter countered immediately, eyes narrowed.

“I’m kind of unintimidating, remember?” Stiles replied evasively, “Skinny Stiles doesn’t exactly come across as a threat, even with you in the body.”

“You know that’s not what I meant.” Peter scowled.

“Just leave it Peter!” Stiles snapped, “So you had a bad first day. Dad busted a party or something, right? They’ll be over it by Wednesday at the latest. Stick with Scott next time.”

“Maybe Scott should just come when he’s called.” Peter suggested irritably. Stiles just raised an eyebrow at him.

“Unless you actually shouted for him Scott can’t tell the difference between someone talking about him and talking to him. He mostly tries to tune out things a human wouldn’t hear unless we know there’s a threat,” he explained.

“Guess you didn’t train him as well as you claim.” Peter sneered.

“Remember how that wasn’t supposed to be my job,” Stiles scoffed in reply, “Better he be ignoring it than be unable to focus on what actually going on right in front of him. Now, I have several kinds of muffins, cookies and slices. Everyone who hasn’t upset me today may have some, if they come up and socialise.”

Peter gave Stiles a deeply unimpressed look as he successfully distracted them from their argument. It wasn’t exactly uncommon for them to argue, and they were usually ignored, so it didn’t matter. This had been a bit more direct that they’re usual snark, but as usual Stiles easily drew attention away when he decided it was done.

Derek came up soon after, only to receive a shirt to the face.

“I told you, no walking around shirtless,” Stiles reminded him pointedly, smacking Erica’s and with a wooden spoon when she reached for her fourth cookie, “Especially when you’re sweaty and gross in the kitchen.”

“Man, I would have paid good money to see Peter baking.” Isaac grinned, pulling bits off his Jaffa muffin.

“He danced as well,” Derek commented, selecting a piece of caramel slice, “very enthusiastically.”

“Dancing while baking is a time honoured tradition,” Stiles said, in a voice that implied ‘heathens’, “Now no more mocking my baking or I’ll spike the next batch with something nasty.”

Peter looked over the baked goods with a small frown. He was letting the argument go because he knew he’d never get Stiles to really talk with the others in the room. His problem now, was he couldn’t really tell what each of the foods were. He could make guesses based on what he saw, but usually he’d rely on scent for such a thing.

“Here.” Peter blinked at the plate pushed into his line of sight before looking up at Stiles with a raised eyebrow. Stiles returned the expression blandly. “You can’t decide, right? Peanut butter cookies, with chocolate chips, of course.”

“Of course,” Peter replied plainly. Stiles just rolled his eyes at him. Peter watched him moved away to scold Erica’s attempt at hoarding, assuring her that she could take some home with her and he could make more.

He took a cautious bite of one of the cookies he’d been provided, and very nearly mimicked the blonde’s behaviour. The cookie was amazing. He suspected that if he was in his own body, he would actually just walk off with the plate and growl at anyone who tried to take one. As it was he pulled the plate towards himself slowly, so as not to draw attention.

Fortunately, the others were thoroughly distracted. They crowded around Stiles like they never did when it was actually Peter. On the other hand, when they walked passed Peter they brushed against him just like they would with Stiles. They were acting like there were two Stiles rather than Stiles just having swapped bodies.

Peter couldn’t help but snort as he realised the pack would most certainly prefer that. If he cared more about them it would have been a rather depressed snort.

“You’re a dork,” Stiles’ voice informed him. Peter looked up to see Stiles smirking and holding a container of what looked like more peanut butter cookies. “Say ‘thank you, Stiles’”

“You make a wonderful house wife, Stiles.” Peter said with a charming grin. Stiles snorted a laugh and rolled his eyes, but he still handed him the container.

“I make a wonderful anything,” he said haughtily, with an amuse grin, “Now shut up and eat your cookies.”

“Of course, Stiles.”

Chapter Text

After almost a week in Peter’s body Stiles was particularly glad of two things. One, that all his friends were werewolves and their enhanced metabolisms allowed them to eat all the food he was baking, and two, that Derek was rich enough that Stiles could constantly by food and ingredients and it didn’t cause any problems for the Alpha.

Stiles was a stress baker, as anyone might have guessed. When he had a problem, he either went on research binges or he baked. It just helped. Especially since he wasn’t making any headway with his current research.

The thing that was driving him nuts was that he would normally be able to fix this. It was a magic problem, and, whatever Deaton said, Stiles knew if he was in his own body he’d be able to fix this.

Stupid vet.

At least Peter was doing fairly well, other than the fight on Monday. The betas were keeping an eye on him now, and Stiles suspected Jackson may have stepped in, though he didn’t have any proof of that.

Since the fight where Peter’s wolf had taken control Jackson seemed to have changed his behaviour slightly. Stiles didn’t see him much during the week, but he and Lydia tended to visit briefly after school to pick up some baked goods. It seemed like Jackson had a new respect for both Peter and Stiles. He was still trying to work out if Jackson’s wolf was reacting to the fact that it was Stiles who’d fought him, even though he was in Peter’s body.

The problem, he found, was that he just didn’t know enough about how everyone else’s wolves were reacting to the change. He’d been getting closer to Derek and Isaac because they lived together, and Stiles was a lot more willing to indulge in pack contact that Peter was.

Which was only fair considering Peter was still concerned about having his throat slashed at a moment’s notice. Yet outwardly one wouldn’t notice much of a difference with how the pack was treating Stiles’ body, other than the closer attention the betas were paying. Even Scott tended to throw an arm over Stiles’ body’s shoulder, or lean against his legs if Scott had been designated to the floor for some reason.

Peter was being fairly good about it all actually, at least with Stiles. He’d been good about keeping up the Sherriff’s diet and when Stiles went and had a sniff around his room he found that Peter had only done a customary search. Stiles hadn’t really expected any less.

On the other hand, the scent around Stiles’ attic was old, and without the slightest hint of Peter’s scent that now clinging to Stiles’ body. Stiles wasn’t entirely sure if that was because they were spending more time together, or because of the body-swap.

Stiles had also made sure he was looking after Roscoe, and his Dad had told him no one had thought much of it when he visited the police station. Something Peter had not wanted to do, but Stiles had insisted on. If the deputies found out he’d been on a baking spree and not shared they’d have him in a cell. Peter had argued, but gone none the less.

It had been kind of hilarious seeing the flustered looks Derek and Scott got when Stiles managed to make Peter do something. Peter had been greatly enjoying his freedom from having to obey the Alpha tone.

Stiles snickered at the memory.

“Something funny?” Derek asked, easily accepting the mug Stiles handed him. Derek wasn’t over fond of coffee, but did enjoy hot drinks. Stiles was personally offended by tea, for a variety of reason, and had started making Derek hot chocolates early in the week.

Derek seemed to be enjoying it.

“Just think about the enjoyment Peter’s getting out of not listening to you,” Stiles laughed in reply, not taking his attention off his cake pops. He was going to make masterpieces if it killed him. He was actually doing pretty well. He was going to move on to making characters soon.

“I’d say you’re not taking this seriously enough, but this is your third set of cake pops,” Derek huffed, picking one of the sticks up. It was just white, but Derek paused when he bit into it and found the rainbow inside.

Stiles laughed at him confused expression.

“I’ve mastered one part, at least,” Stiles grinned, “I’m going to make penguins, they look fairly simple.”

“Of course,” Derek rolled his eyes, “You mentioned something about a big dinner, yesterday?”

“Yeah, the whole packs coming over,” Stiles explained, “and Dad and Melissa, if she can swing it. Allison talked about inviting her dad, but I pointed out that I struggled enough with her around and we don’t really want to test my self-control on her dad. Also, I heard about the Argent dinners from Scott and I don’t think I can put up with the not so subtle threats and Scott and Allison trying to pretend like they’re not dating when everyone knows they are.”

“You managed to get all of them to come over without a crisis?” Derek raised an eyebrow, “and you thought it was a good idea?”

“I’m cooking a roast,” Stiles explained easily. “Three, actually, you guys eat a lot, which reminds me, we have to go out to buy potatoes, and get the necessary tools from my house, unless you want to buy them as well.”

“I’m pretty sure you’ll be the only one to use them anyway,” Derek snorted. “I don’t think I’ve ever known a teenager so capable in the kitchen.”

“Well, someone had to be,” Stiles snorted right back. “My dad can only do simple stuff. Melissa is pretty good, but Scott could burn water without one of us supervising. Didn’t make for good food at sleep overs when Melissa was on nights.”

“I bet it didn’t.” Derek chuckled, and Stiles grinned. He liked that he was helping Derek, even it was in some weird supernatural body-swap kind of way. “So, did you want to do that shopping now?”

“Yeah, probably best,” Stiles nodded, moving for the door. “God knows I don’t want to put up with the puppies whining about the food being late.”

“You wouldn’t have this problem if you hadn’t spent all week teaching them that you are constantly cooking,” Derek rolled his eyes, “Do you realise what’s going to happen when we get this sorted out?”

“You’re going to start paying my grocery bill because the betas are addicted to my cooking,” Stiles smirked as he climbed into the passenger seat of the Camaro, “You know, if you just let me teach you this wouldn’t-”

“I am not learning to bake for a bunch of teenagers, Stiles,” Derek scowled, “Besides, at least you’re fairly unlikely to somehow get yourself killed in the kitchen.”

“Face it, you just can’t live without my gingerbread cookies anymore,” Stiles scoffed, “Honestly, you Hale’s and your determination to hide your inner marshmallow. You know, I think this is seriously detrimental to the progression of the pack bonding. The others can’t learn to trust you completely if you spend all your time being a big Sourwolf.”

“You trust me.” Derek pointed out with a raised eyebrow, his tone suggesting he thought Stiles was a bit of an idiot for doing so. Stiles snorted.

“I know that you horde gingerbread cookies and sometimes sneak a drive-by pass the school to make sure all your puppies are ok,” he smirked at the alpha. “Face it, I have seen your marshmallow-y centre and there is no return from that. Also, we’ve repeated saved each other’s lives at the risk of our own, so that may be a contributing factor.”

“How do you know about the school?” Derek asked blankly, then scowled when Stiles gave him a huge grin.

“Oh, Sourwolf, I now have all your werewolf-y abilities remember? I bet Peter knows too, if he spends any time around you during the week,” Stiles shrugged. “Also, I may have spotted the Camaro once or twice when I was looking out the window.”

“Pay more attention in class,” Derek commanded with a scowl as he parked the car. Stiles rolled his eyes at the blatant redirection. He climbed out of the car and easily matched pace with Derek.

“I’m just saying, they’d probably like to know you care,” he continued as though there’d been no interruption, “I mean, I know Isaac sort of sees it, ‘cause he lives with you, but face it, you bit kids with issues, and now we have no immediate threats, it is time for you to take responsibility and start helping them. Grab a cart.”

Derek obeyed the command with a scowl and soon joined Stiles, pushing the cart along. The image seemed odd, but Stiles hadn’t been kidding when he talked about making Derek homier. Well, not entirely at least.

“You’re expecting me to be their therapist?” Derek demanded upon his return.

“Of course not,” Stiles rolled his eyes, “I don’t think any of them really need that. Maybe Isaac, and possibly Allison, and given Gerard… Ok, so maybe they might need that a little, but if they’re going to get therapy it needs to be from a professional, unbiased, third-party who already knows about the supernatural and won’t use any of the information against them. I wasn’t actually talking about that anyway, I meant issues from before the bite. Anyway, the point is-”

“There was a point?” Derek muttered quietly. Stiles cuffed him over the back of the head.

“The point is!” He repeated firmly. “You may be their Alpha, and you’re definitely getting better at it, but they don’t just need a commander. Yes, that’s part of it, but I’ve done the reading, and I can feel it now, even with all the trust issues Peter’s wolf has, they need proper bonding. You need it.”

Derek couldn’t help but snarl at the suggestion. Stiles always had had a way of getting right to the touchy issues and clearly had the intent on airing those issues. Stiles just met his gaze, baring his own fangs in response and rumbling a little. He barely did more than twitch when Derek’s eyes flashed Alpha red.

“You can’t just growl and make this go away,” Stiles snarled, though he kept his voice low, “I know the pack needs stronger bonds than we have now. Why do you do this to yourself? Keep that gap between you and the betas? I know that it must be hurting you.”

“How could you know?” Derek snapped, trying to keep in mind that they were in the middle of the grocery store. He tried to turn away but Stiles grabbed his arm and held him in place.

“How could I know?” the teen in Peter’s body repeated fiercely, “I know because Peter turned Scott. Death or not he’s still technically Scott’s Alpha on some level. Now every time I look at my best friend I’m in near physical pain for a moment because he refuses to accept Peter’s wolf. They betas all recognise you, and you didn’t turn Scott, so it’s different but I don’t exactly see it getting any better if you don’t do something about it.”

Derek snarled again, grateful there weren’t any other people in their isle since he was perhaps a bit too loud. His wolf didn’t like being questioned, and while he’d started getting used to Stiles doing it, now it was Peter. Peter’s body, Peter’s wolf. Meeting his eyes and barely responding to the Alpha power.

He even knew Stiles was right. Before the fire the pack bonds between the Hale’s had been thick and strong, even for the humans, not thin and fraying as his packs bonds tended to be. He just, he didn’t know what to do about it. There had constantly been things happening before, even know they were often busy, he’d just put it on the back burner.

Suddenly Stiles tensed, the hand still holding his arm squeezing in warning. Derek was confused for a moment, but couldn’t help but mimic the action when he caught the scent Stiles had already locked onto.

“Is there a problem here?” Chris Argent’s voice was steely and hard. Derek bit back another snarl when Stiles’ grip on his arm tightened as he turned to face Chris.

“No worries,” he assured brightly, “You know me, always getting on people’s nerves. At least Derek kept his voice down and avoided slamming walls.”

Chris blinked for a moment, clearly confused, before he breathed out a quiet “Right.”

Stiles just raised an eyebrow at him, waiting. It was actually a little distracting. Stiles looked fine, he didn’t seem to be having any trouble, yet the wolf in Peter’s body was radiating tension and Stiles’ scent was all mixed up. Tension, wariness, a little fear, a little anger and… guilt? What did Stiles have to be guilty about regarding Chris?

“So, Allison’s having dinner with all of you tonight?” Chris asked in a clear attempt to make small talk.

“Yeah, I’m making roasts,” Stiles replied easily, “We thought about inviting you, but I didn’t really think you’d be eager to join.”

“No, I’ve got business to deal with anyway,” Chris assured quickly, “I trust nothing will get out of hand?”

Derek once again bit back a snarl at the lightly veiled threat. They may have sort of treaty with the Argents, but that didn’t mean they liked each other.

“Well, Dad’s going to be there, so I don’t imagine anything horrible will happen.” Stiles said pleasantly, like the having the Sheriff around would influence the behaviour of werewolves.

“Well, I’ll be on my way then,” Chris nodded, continuing down the aisle. Stiles watched the man until he turned the corner. Derek watched the tension leak out of Stiles. That strong a reaction couldn’t just be Peter’s wolf, could it?

“C’mon,” Stiles huffed, “Let’s get this done before someone else pops up. With my luck it’ll be one of the deputies next.”

The rest of the shopping trip passed without incident and when they returned to the loft Derek was shooed out of his own kitchen. He just rolled his eyes at the action. He might have argued, but Stiles was an amazing cook, and there would probably be a riot if Derek managed to mess up this dinner.

Besides, it gave him time to wonder at Stiles. It wasn’t entirely unusual to have humans in a werewolf pack, but this… Stiles was in a wolf’s body, he said he felt the wolf’s reaction, Hell, it had prompted him into attacking Jackson, though Derek hadn’t known Peter to have any issue with Jackson.

Everything indicated that Stiles should now obey the Alpha tone. Derek didn’t want to force him to do things, but he couldn’t help but wonder about it. He knew for a fact Peter was currently entirely unaffected by the Alpha tone. Then there was the thing with Chris.

Derek had no idea what was going on. He was going to have to ask Peter.

Derek heaved a sigh and decided it was time to go for a run.

He sort of regretted coming back from the run when he entered the house and immediately got a furious glare from Peter’s body.

“Go wash up!” Stiles commanded, “You’re going to set the table. We’re lucky you have such a big one.”

Derek obeyed automatically. It wasn’t until he was grabbing placemats and utensils that he stilled realising what had happened, what was going to happen. They were going to have a pack dinner. He hadn’t had anything like that since before the fire, yet Stiles was bouncing around the kitchen, preparing enough food for an army and grumbling about seating arrangements.

Just like Derek’s Mum used to.

“Hey, you ok, buddy?” Stiles asked, his hand on Derek’s shoulder. Derek turned to face him and saw genuine concern, and a bit of curiosity, in his eyes. Derek just wanted to…

“You just, reminded me of my Mum,” he answered, the words falling from his lips without his full consent.

“Oh,” Stiles breathed, understanding lighting his eyes. There was a second of awkward silence before Stiles pulled Derek into a tight hug. Derek couldn’t help but bury his nose in the crook of Stiles’ neck. His wolf revelled in have the scent of pack and family so close, despite the fact it wasn’t really his uncle holding him.

After a moment Stiles gently rubbed his back and pulled away, smiling gently at him.

“Now, finish setting the table. The others will be here soon.”

“Thanks,” Derek said quietly as he returned to setting the table. He was somewhat surprised Stiles had managed to handle that without teasing him, yet it had felt natural. Maybe he shouldn’t have been surprised, looking back Stiles comforted the pack quite often. He’d been doing it with Scott long before the werewolf thing, and apparently he had just adopted the rest of them. Even Derek.

His wolf preened at the thought of having someone looking after them again. A pack Mum.

He didn’t get too long to be shocked by this revelation because he heard cars approaching and shook himself out of it quickly.

Derek was honestly, a little surprised that they all turned up. Even Jackson. Scott, Erica and Isaac were all looking excited and they quickly moved towards the kitchen along with Boyd. Jackson scoffed at them, though he didn’t comment, and the other two girls just looked peacefully amused.

“Out! Out of the kitchen!” Stiles snapped at the four teenagers, soon herding them back into view. “You will wait until dinner. Go wash up.”

“But Stiles,” Scott whined. Stiles raised an eyebrow at him.

“Go wash up, or no dessert,” he commanded. Scott made a whining noise but moved to do at he was told. The other’s all followed after them when Stiles gave them a pointed look. Peter rolled his eyes at the lot of them, smirking at Stiles.

“Using dessert as a threat now?” he asked amusedly.

“Scott’s a sucker for my desserts,” Stiles shrugged easily, “And I meant you too. Go clean up, or no dessert.”

“And if I don’t want dessert?” Peter raised an eyebrow. Stiles mimicked the expression.

“Everyone wants the patented Stilinski Death by Chocolate Cake,” he scoffed. There was a thump from upstairs that even Peter could hear, judging by the way his eyes flickered up curiously.

“You made Death by Chocolate Cake?!” Scott’s voice shrieked excitedly. It was soon followed by his body all but tumbling down the stairs in excitement.

“I did, but you only get some if everyone behaves,” Stiles replied with an amused smile but a challenging glint in his eyes, “Starting with cleaning up for dinner like civilised people.”

Scott nodded frantically, scrambling back upstairs with shouts for the others to behave because of this ‘absolutely amazing cake, seriously’. Both Hales turned towards Stiles, who just smirked smugly.

“Everyone wants a piece of this,” he informed them before he turned and headed back into the kitchen.

By the time Melissa and John arrived the pack were relatively settled and helping put the food on the table. Stiles was watching them closely to make sure they behaved with the food. He turned as the pair entered, finally taking off his apron as he approached.

“Hey Dad,” he greeted with a grin, giving the Sheriff a hug, “Melissa.”

“Hello Stiles,” Melissa smiled at him, “I see you’ve been busy.”

She was, of course, talking about the small feast Stiles had cooked up for pack dinner, which included three roasts, a small mountain of roast potatoes, and various other vegetables.

“He made Death by Chocolate Cake!” Scott informed the pair excitedly.

“You made Death by Chocolate Cake?” John repeated, eyes wide.

“I did,” Stiles nodded, “And you can have a small piece after dinner. I’m already letting you have roast.”

“We should have pack dinners more often,” John grinned. Stiles gave him the stink eye.

Derek had a large round table, for reasons he had never explained, which was fortunately large enough to seat everyone. Stiles sat next to his father, then there was Melissa, then Scott, Allison, Lydia, Jackson, Boyd, Erica, Isaac, Derek, and finally Peter on Stiles other side. Stiles had specifically laid out the seats to try to minimise fights. Everyone was on their best behaviour anyway, thanks to Scott’s badgering.

The dinner was actually fairly peacefully. It was a little bit odd at first, having a proper meal together, and with John and Melissa. Stiles was determined, however, and eventually everyone settled into casual conversation.

They did manage to eat all the food, and Stiles got horribly pained noises from both John and Scott when he suggested people might be too full for dessert. His amused expression made it obvious that was exactly what he’d been intending.

“Werewolves who want dessert, clear the table,” Stiles commanded as he stood.

“Why do we have to?” Jackson grumbled. He twitched slightly, possibly because of the warning look from Lydia, but also possibly because her hand was resting on his leg.

“Because it will be faster with more people,” Stiles answered, “and werewolves can carry more. Think you lot can handle it on your own while I prepare dessert?”

“Yes,” Scott answered immediately, standing up and gathering dishes.

“Try not to break anything Scott,” Melissa sighed. Scott slowed his actions with a sheepish grin. Stiles was right, the table was cleared quickly and efficiently. Isaac and Erica packed dishes into the dishwasher while Scott and Jackson stacked those that needed hand washing or wouldn’t fit in this load. Boyd set a couple things to soak in the sink, and Derek was delegated to helping Stiles grab the things for dessert.

Along with the large cake he’d made, Stiles had also, apparently, prepared some cut up fruit and homemade whipped cream.

Derek was, admittedly, somewhat sceptical, given how much Scott had talked up the cake. He watched Stiles cut it, giving an eager Scott the first slice, followed by John and Melissa who had both eaten it before and looked only slightly less eager than Scott. Then Stiles served up the rest of the pack, giving out fairly large slices.

There was nothing left on the platter once everyone was served.

Stiles at his own slice peacefully while the three who had eaten it before dug in and the others took curious bites.

It was delicious.

It was possibly the best thing Derek had ever eaten. He opened his eyes to judge what the rest of the pack thought. Jackson was looking down at his plate like he was furious and betrayed that it tasted so good, though he was still eating. Similarly, Lydia was looking at the plate with narrowed eyes, though she was more calculating. Erica, Isaac and Boyd were all guarding their plates and digging in viciously. Allison was smiling happily and humming around bites.

Derek turned to see Peter. Peter was guarding his food like the Betas, but he was also looking at Stiles with… adoration. Derek blinked. Peter was being subtle about it, only looking from the corner of his eye, but Derek had spent a lot of time with his uncle before the fire. Peter was looking at Stiles like he was the most interesting thing he’d ever seen. He looked the closest to pre-fire Peter that Derek could remember.

His second epiphany for the day hit him like ton of bricks.

Peter liked Stiles. It actually made a lot of sense. Even before the body swap Peter’s scent had been on Stiles quite often. Just a subtle scent that could be written off by the time they spent together but hadn’t Peter always been just that bit saner when Stiles was there?

Part of Derek recoiled from the idea, wanted to warn Peter off. Earlier that might have confused him, but now, knowing how they’d all accepted Stiles as pack mom without even realising he understood the protectiveness a lot better. Except… except Peter didn’t hurt Stiles.

Not he wouldn’t hurt Stiles, because Derek still didn’t trust him, but he didn’t. They’d left the pair alone plenty of times when they had to deal with some kind of monster and Stiles had never been hurt. Hell, even before he’d died Stiles had come back from being kidnapped by Peter with only bruises and destroyed keys.

“Everything ok, Sourwolf?” Stiles asked, frowning slightly. Derek blinked, realising he’d gotten lost in thought.

“I’m good,” he nodded, returning to his cake. Stiles raised an eyebrow at him, but didn’t comment. Instead he turned his attention on Peter and rolled his eyes at the food guarding.

Derek was going to have to pay more attention to this.

“Peter and I can finish up,” Derek assured Stiles as they tidied the kitchen.

“You sure?” Stiles asked, frowning slightly at the way the rest of the pack had immediately begun to vacate the kitchen.

“Of course,” Peter shrugged, “You did cook, after all.”

“Ok then,” Stiles replied, frowning at them slightly. Never-the-less, he left the room after the others. Derek listened to the other room as he and Peter washed dishes. Peter raised an eyebrow at him, but waited.

“I wanted to ask you about how Stiles is reacting to the Alpha tone.” Derek said, once he was sure everyone else was involved in conversation.

“You mean, not at all?” Peter smirked, and then he looked thoughtful, “It is odd. I think we have to assume it’s because he still views himself as human despite being in my body. He isn’t connected to the wolf as a real werewolf is. Of course, perhaps it’s just that he doesn’t view you or McCall as his Alpha.”

“But he’s pack,” Derek frowned.

“Yes, I don’t think he doubts that, most of the time at least,” Peter shrugged, “But he’s not a werewolf. He may call you Alpha, but it doesn’t have the same meaning to him. If he were to become a real wolf he might follow McCall and just become his own Alpha, or else he’d be the most unruly Beta to ever exist.”

“You don’t really know at all, do you?” Derek sighed, scowling at his uncle. Peter just smirked.

“He is an enigma,” he answered, and Derek had to wonder how he’d never noticed his attachment to Stiles before.

“Do you know anything Stiles might be guilty about regarding the Argents?” Derek asked, dropping his voice just a little more. Peter looked at him bemusedly for a moment, eyebrows drawing together thoughtfully.

“Why?” he asked eventually.

“We ran into Chris today,” Derek explained, “Stiles smelt guilty, but I couldn’t think of why he would. He never seemed to feel guilty about any of it before.”

“Was it about the dinner?” Peter suggested with a raised eyebrow. Derek gave him a deeply unimpressed look, and Peter just shrugged, putting the last dish away and moving to leave the room.

“You know if you hurt him they’ll kill you.” Derek told him, watching him closely. Peter froze, his heart picking up for a moment before he forced Stiles’ body to relax.

“Good thing I have no intention of harming him, then,” he answered plainly and continued out of the room. Derek sighed again. If Stiles hadn’t just made the best meal he’d eaten in a long time he’d complain about how much trouble the teen made his life.

Chapter Text

“So, what are the plans for tomorrow?” Peter asked as everyone was preparing to leave the loft. The pack member’s gave him bemused looks and Stiles groaned at them.

“It’s the full moon, guys.” Stiles reminded them.

“Yeah, but we’re all under control,” Isaac replied with a frown. Peter rolled his eyes at the group.

“Oh yes, I’m sure you’ll all be delighted to spent the night with a new werewolf who’s wolf already has problems with a number of you,” he sneered, “What are we doing with Stiles?”

All eyes moved towards Stiles with sudden realisation. Stiles, for his part, simply let out a little chuckle.

“Don’t worry, I actually thought about it,” he informed them, “The basements pretty much empty, and Derek seems pretty confident it can hold a werewolf. We’ll just chain me up in there.”

“What if that doesn’t work?” Allison asked uncertainly.

“I get tackled by two Alpha’s,” Stiles shrugged, “At least the bruises will heal overnight this time. I’m sure between them the pack they can manage one unruly Beta.”

“I’ll make sure to we have patrols around the edge of the preserve,” John sighed, standing and moving towards the door. “Let’s go Sti- Peter.”

“Certainly,” Peter nodded, not commenting on the slip. He got up and followed after the Sheriff, only for Stiles to follow him.

“What are you up to?” Stiles asked as they walked, watching him closely and frowning.

“I have no idea what you mean,” Peter replied with a pleasant smile.

“Charming doesn’t really work on my face Peter,” Stiles snorted.

“I don’t really think your face is the problem,” Peter countered, “Perhaps if you wore less layers and flannel-”

“Oh my God you’re going to take my body shopping!” Stiles yelled loudly.

“Shopping for Stiles?” Lydia’s voice asked, veiled excitement in it as she came into the room. Stiles looked at her with a betrayed expression.

“I’ve just about worn everything in your wardrobe I can stand,” Peter answered plainly, “I am going shopping tomorrow.”

“Well, I suppose I can put up with you for a day,” Lydia sighed, “For the sake of Stiles’ wardrobe.”

“I like my wardrobe!” Stiles said, looking a bit panicked.

“Relax,” Peter scoffed, “I’m not throwing you’re old clothes out, I’m just buying better ones.”

“I’m not paying for it,” Stiles countered, crossing his arms.

“Of course not,” Peter snorted, “I am. Now, I’ll be on my way, your father is waiting.”

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow,” Lydia informed him. “You’d probably prefer it if Allison wasn’t there. I wonder if Danny would come? Then again, I doubt you could convince him you were Stiles for the whole day.”

“I believe we can manage,” Peter replied as he walked out the door. “But if you wish to invite him I’m sure we can come up with some excuse.”

“I can’t believe you,” Stiles scowled at Lydia.

“Don’t be ridiculous Stiles,” Lydia rolled her eyes, “I’ve been wanting to clear out your wardrobe for ages. Jackson, take me home, I have a shopping trip to plan.”

“See if I ever make you cake again,” Stiles grumbled as the couple left.

“I’m sure it won’t be too bad Stiles,” Allison assured as the others started filling out.

“Yeah, he said he wouldn’t throw out your old clothes,” Scott reminded him. Melissa just shook her head with a small smile.

“Don’t worry Batman,” Erica grinned, “I think you look cute no matter what.”

“See, you’ll get more cake,” Stiles grinned back, hugging her, “See you all tomorrow.”

Stiles didn’t think he was doing too bad for his first full moon. He was more restless, and his thoughts seemed to jump around a lot. He wanted to take some Adderall, except he knew it wouldn’t help.

Isaac and Derek watched him most of the day with what Stiles called a ‘car crash’ expression, like they didn’t want to watch, but couldn’t look away. Stiles couldn’t blame them, he felt like he was going to start climbing the walls any moment.

He’d started the day normally but it had just… devolved. He was used to having too much energy, and had wandered the loft, cleaning, cooking, and snarling at any sudden movements. His frantic movements and spontaneous need to be doing things seemed to startle the other two ‘wolves’.

Still, at least he’d kept it inside the loft.

Really, it wasn’t anywhere near as bad as he’d been expecting. The wolf was closer to the surface, and he was a little more on edge, but he didn’t feel like he’d attack anyone. He wasn’t sure if the others had been exaggerating or if Peter’s wolf was just more used to all this.

Maybe it would be worse when the moon actually rose.

Of course, by the time that came, the other wolves had come over and were watching Stiles move around the loft at a rapid pace looking for something to do. The loft itself was cleaner than they’d ever seen it, and there was still a collection of baked goods Stiles had made during the day.

Scott was the most calm, he already knew what Stiles was like without Adderall, and after taking too much, which could be just as bad.

Eventually, they actually got to chaining him in the basement. The chains ‘kindly donated’ by the Argents. Scott and Derek were doing it, because Stiles didn’t want to lash out at any of the Betas after what happened with Jackson. Stiles couldn’t help but tug at the chains. Wanting to move, to run, to hunt.

“Are you sure this is alright?” Scott asked uncertainly, evidently uncomfortable chaining his best friend up in a basement.

“Its fine Scotty,” Stiles rolled his eyes, “Just don’t forget to come get me in the morning.”

“The walls are reinforced, and this place is sound proof,” Derek informed him, making Stiles roll his eyes.

“I know Derek.” he reminded, “I know this place better than you do. Now get out and let’s get this over with.”

Derek gave him an unimpressed look before nodding and heading back upstairs. Scott hesitated, but followed, leaving Stiles alone.

He managed to remain relaxed for all of five minutes before he was tugging at the chains again. It wasn’t just curious boredom anymore, he wanted out. The wolf he had thought was being so calm was now restless and wanting out. The moon was rising, not yet at full height, but it was in the air.

The wolf wanted to move, to run. He, the Wolf, wants, he, The Wolf, he wants…

He wants his man.

His mate is with The Wolf, protected. His man is not.

The Wolf let out a furious raw, overpowering his mates reasoning in a way he hadn’t been able to do with his man for far too long. A sharp pull and the chains holding his right hand snapped. The Wolf used his free hand to rip the other chains off himself. That done he charged the door, but it didn’t budge, not even rattling at the impact. The Wolf clawed and snarled, glowing eyes flicking around the room as he clawed at the walls.

Reinforced. The human thought filtered through his mind, along with the way out, because the pack were paranoid enough to leave an escape after the fire.

The Wolf rumbled in satisfaction at his chosen mate’s show of skill. Protecting The Wolf and aiding in the finding of his man.

The Wolf easily found the small exit and clawed his way out, taking a deep breath to scent the area once he’d escaped. He rumbled comfortingly as he sensed his mate’s distress. It didn’t help. His mate was worried about the hunt. The pack. The Argents.

The Wolf’s hackles rose at the reminder that such a threat was wandering around. His mate was scared though, scared for him.

Some things are more important than the hunt. He learnt that long ago, the coma hadn’t only changed his man.

He moved though the territory quickly and carefully, aided by the warnings of his mate. His mate knew the territory, and The Wolf knew how to avoid the pack. He didn’t want to fight them, though he might if he crossed the foolish beta who was cruel to his mate.

The Wolf got more excited as he approached the building that was his mate’s pack territory. He didn’t hesitate in the familiar action of climbing up to the roof and moving towards the window. Until his mate’s worry stopped him.

His mate was worried about… about father. The Wolf paused long enough to listen and only heard one heartbeat in the building. His man in his mate’s body.

He wouldn’t wait any longer.

He entered through the window into his mate’s personal territory. His man was standing in his mate’s body looking in the mirror. He smelt like the banshee. The scent of too many other humans clung to him. He was out today. The clothes were new, heavy with the scent of those who handled them, but not yet imbued with his mate’s scent.

His man turned slowly when The Wolf growled unhappily. He didn’t smell scared, just surprised, and a little curious. The Wolf prowled towards him sniffing at him unhappily and purposefully scented him by rubbing against him as he moved around.

“Stiles?” his man asked curiously while he did this. The Wolf rumbled in confirmation. Their mate was here, he was well, and his man didn’t need to worry. Now they were all together under the moon, as The Wolf had wanted for many moons. His man had stopped him, but his mate had not, not as prepared to fight the urge.

The Wolf growled as he stuck his nose into the clothes, unhappy with the unfamiliar scents.

“All right,” his man said, easily stripping his shirt off. The Wolf wished his man and his mate were usually this agreeable. His man went to the wardrobe, and pulled out a pair of loose pants that smelt almost entirely of their mate, with just hints of their mate’s father.

The Wolf rumbled happily when his man changed into the pants and herded his mate’s body only to bed. The Wolf was still humanoid, though shifted, and had to manoeuvre his mate’s body until all three of them were comfortable.

“Stiles isn’t going to be pleased in the morning,” his man murmured quietly, though he didn’t complain. The Wolf just huffed and noised into his mate’s body’s neck. The scent was familiar and relaxing. He was curled around his mate, facing each other so that The Wolf could protect his man and his mate’s body from attacks to his stomach and throat.

He wasn’t worried. Their mate was smart, kind and fierce. He may argue, but he did care for them. Once they had won him over as he had won them when they chose him for mate, then they would always be able to protect him. They wouldn’t have to keep their distance, or remain wary. Their mate was the type that would destroy those who threatened those he’d claimed as pack.

The Wolf let out a satisfied huff at that thought as he drifted off to sleep.

Peter had enjoyed a relatively pleasant day out with Lydia. They were civil, at least, with only a few minor barbs back and forth. He had to concede, she had a few suggestions he wouldn’t have considered, and her critique was nothing but honest.

They’d bought a lot of clothes, including a tight leather jacket that they both thought Stiles looked brilliant in. Many of Stiles’ clothes were actually fine, if he would only bother to put some effort into composing a proper outfit.

He was surprised when his body came through the window in full beta shift while he was retrying the clothes he’d bought, but perhaps not as much as he should have been.

Mates weren’t some rare mystically thing, as many people thought, but rather a simple choice. When a werewolf’s two sides were in sync and agreed about the worthiness of a person, that person could be considered their ‘chosen’ mate. What that meant was different from person to person, but usually they had to win their mate over first anyway.

Even with Stiles in Peter’s body, Peter’s wolf would still protect Stiles’s body, because it was still Stiles. That it was Peter in the body may help, but he couldn’t really say how much.

It was easy to put together what the wolf wanted, and he amusedly changed and climbed into bed. From the looks of things Stiles didn’t have any control, which would make sense, he couldn’t be as connected to Peter’s wolf as werewolves were to their own.

Peter chuckled and relaxed on the bed. This was nice.

He may have to talk to Derek about Mountain Ash infused chains though.

Stiles woke up first. He could tell Peter was still asleep by his slow heartbeat. He was also happy to find his pants had survived the night, a little tattered, but still intact.

He could remember everything that had happened last night and, other than the weirdness of not having control of his actions, it had been… alright. It had been enlightening, the way the wolf responded to his thoughts, though he hadn’t been able to get all of the wolf’s thoughts.

He’d caught bits and pieces. It didn’t like Jackson the ‘foolish beta’, and it hadn’t wanted to fight last night, or hunt, though it considered going after the Argents. It didn’t because… because his mate was scared. So he went to find his mate.

Stiles looked at Peter in his body and frowned slightly. He hadn’t read anything on mates, but it didn’t take a genius to work out which two people were here. Since when was he Peter’s mate? Moreover what, exactly, did being his mate mean?

Probably that he wasn’t going to be immediately rejected for his crush this time.

Yeah, he had a crush on Peter. He wasn’t exactly vocal about it, but… he spent a lot of time with the man, ok? The others might be able to label him creepy resurrected guy and move on but Stiles had never been the kind of person who accepted his first impression of someone.

Sure, if it was bad he’d hold it against them sometimes, but he wasn’t stupid.

Peter was smart and sarcastic enough to keep up with him when other people, even Scott, would get exasperated or just tune him out. All the other wolves tended to forget that Stiles was human, they’d shove him around and, sure, they apologised (except Derek), but it shouldn’t be happening at all. Peter threatened him plenty, but since coming back from the dead he’d never done anything to harm Stiles.

Besides, he wasn’t exactly hard to look at.

Stiles let out a small groan and curled back up, burying his nose in Peter’s neck without thinking. He was not ready to deal with this right now. He’d do it later, maybe when he was actually in his own body. That would be nice.

John sighed when he stepped into his house to find Stiles cooking while Peter had some conversation on the phone. It was odd seeing another grown man cook in the kitchen usually inhabited by his teenage son, but he thought he was handling it pretty well.

It was probably good practise for later, anyway.

Sheriff John Stilinski was no idiot, and while Stiles may have learnt how to hide things from him, Peter had not. It wasn’t till the pack night watching Stiles and Peter interact that everything really solidified for him. John knew what Stiles looked like with a crush, and the adoration in his son’s golden eyes had been even more serious than that.

Peter had it bad.

It had only taken a little while for John to confirm that the feelings weren’t unreciprocated. He wanted to argue, oh with every fibre of his being he did not want his son to be anywhere near someone he knew had murdered people.

Except…

Except that he knew Stiles’s life was dangerous, knew there were things out there that would try to hurt his son, and he’d seen Peter defend him from that. Stiles was the last person John had left, and he could not loose him. For everything that was wrong with Peter, John didn’t doubt he would protect Stiles with everything he had.

So, as long as he made Stiles happy, John was going to accept it.

With only a minimal amount of threatening.

Stiles was relieved Sunday went by so calmly. Peter called the pack before they could wake up enough to notice Stiles was gone and get into a panic. Stiles got to eat breakfast with his dad, and Peter didn’t bring up the mate thing.

It was good. Stiles didn’t really want to think about it too much before he had his own room and body to think about it in.

The only problem Stiles face was when he went down to the loft basement to tidy up. He had thought it was weird that Chris had given them regular chains, given the givens. Evidently, based on the scent of the broken chains, he hadn’t. How had he broken out of Mountain Ash imbued chains? It wasn’t possible. Werewolves could do that.

Except that Stiles wasn’t really a werewolf.

For God’s sake could nothing make sense in his life anymore?

Things remained pretty calm until Wednesday. Stiles had already been getting antsy. Between so many days without anything going wrong and the fact he still had no idea how he’d managed to break those goddamn chains no one else seemed worried about.

Wednesday morning Stiles realised something was wrong. He was cautious of people following him before, add the werewolf sense and he knew almost immediately. Unfortunately they acted faster than he expected. He managed to dodge the first few darts, but eventually they realised they had a number advantage and suddenly he was convulsing with jolts of electricity and had a goddamn elephant dart sticking out of his chest.

He could feel himself shifting back and forth as the wolf tried to fight the tranquiliser and get his muscles back under control.

He didn’t succeed. He did manage to get out a howl before one of the hunters smashed him in the head, which cracked against the ground. Black began edging his vision.

He hated his life sometimes, and this was definitely one of those times.

Chapter Text

Stiles had vague memories of snapping and clawing at people, half conscious violence and things smashing into his head. He was immensely glad he wasn’t in his own human body, as he would definitely have gained some kind of permanent damage from all the head injuries being inflicted on him.

Despite this, his head hardly even hurt when he finally woke up. Metal pressed against his wrists, almost burning. Rather than the cold metal feeling he’d normally expect. Wolfsbane chains, probably. He must have put up a good fight if his captors thought it was necessary to chain his hands behind his back while he was stuck in a circle of mountain ash.

“Comfortable, wolf?” a nasty voice asked. Stiles looked up and saw a man sneering at him, expression hateful and disgusted.

“As ever,” he replied sarcastically, “Do you want to give it a go?”

“Cute, but your current accommodations are specifically for monsters like you,” the man sneered. “Don’t think we don’t know who you are, Peter Hale.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. What was with hunters and targeting the Hales? Seriously, at this point they couldn’t think it would end well for them.

“You’re clearly not keeping up with local supernatural events,” Stiles huffed, “I’m not actually Peter.”

“Really?” the man snorted doubtfully.

“Really,” Stiles nodded anyway, “I’m actually a human teenager stuck in his body, it’s a whole thing. If you want to try kidnapping him again next week, we’ll probably be back to normal. Hopefully.”

“You expect me to believe that?” the man scowled, Stiles gave him a pointed looking.

“You hunt werewolves!” Stiles exclaimed, “Werewolves, shape-shifting people. You don’t have a problem with that, but weird stuff can’t happen to the people who just recently fought a literal witch? What kind of bullshit do you have to tell yourself to get through the day?”

“Where is Gerard Argent?” The hunter demanded, clearly already fed up with dealing with Stiles. That hadn’t taken long.

“Uh, is this a ‘where is my boss’ kinda question, or an ‘I’m going to make you an accessory to murder’ kinda question?” Stiles asked, forcefully fighting off the tiny bit of panic that rose whenever Gerard was mentioned, “Because I really don’t need any more of a criminal record.”

“Wonderful, a mouthy one, aren’t you?” the man scowled. Stiles smirked, already opening his mouth to reply, only to have a high pained noise come out instead as a hot knife was suddenly jammed into his leg. Stiles jerked, but forced himself to hold still just long enough for the hunter to pull the knife back out.

Without the metal stuck in his leg Stiles pulled away, drawing further into the circle. As far as he could tell the knife had only hit meat, and judging by the few drops of blood on the floor now the blade hadn’t been hot enough to cauterize the wound.

“We can do this all day, wolf.” The first hunter said tauntingly, the second looking over his knife with a disgusted face. The wolf in the back of his mind rumbled unhappily, despite the mountain ash circle.

“For fuck’s sake,” Stiles snapped. “A little back talk and you immediately jump to stabbing? You have no patience.”

“None.” The first hunter agreed plainly, “Where is Gerard Argent?”

“Living large on Fuck You Avenue,” Stiles replied with a sneer. The hard object smashing into the base of his skull was what alerted him to the fact that there was, apparently, a third hunter.

Derek had realised something was wrong fairly quickly. Stiles usually took an hour, max, on his daily shopping trips, therefore Derek was immediately worried when he realised two hours had passed and he could neither hear his heartbeat nor smell any fresh baked goods.

He immediately grabbed his phone and dialled Stiles’ number.

He was heading for the door before the third ring.

Stiles was not having fun.

Of course, that probably went without saying when one was being tortured by a trio of sycophantic nut-jobs.

Apparently he’d been knocked unconscious the second time so that they could chain him up, allowing them to get close to him with no risk. They still had the mountain ash around him, so even if he got out of the manacles, he was stuck. They’d taunted him about it, because he’d said he wasn’t a werewolf. Several times.

They didn’t seem to believe him.

Stiles could probably get out of the manacles, too. He’d done it already hadn’t he? After all, despite what the hunter’s chose to believe, he was human and, despite the complete illogical-ness of it, that clearly gave him a resistance despite the werewolf body he was in. Seriously, he didn’t get it.

Though then again, he did have some skills other people didn’t.
Oh hey, there was a thought.

Honestly, he’d been putting most of his effort into trying to assure them he didn’t know where Gerard Argent was. It wasn’t technically a lie…

Anyway, as it turned out, a healing factor was actually an awful thing to have in a torture situation. Stiles had a whole new sympathy for Boyd and Erica. The men wanted evidence of the pain they were inflicting. To hear it, see it. That was why you weren’t supposed to hold back screams, because it only made it worse.

He couldn’t help the healing factor though. It was slower than normal, due to the mountain ash circle and the special weapons, but he still healed faster than a human body. Meaning they could inflict new injuries on him all the faster.

“Where is Gerard?” one of the men asked. Again.

Stiles wanted to reply with something witty and sarcastic, hell, a simply ‘fuck you’ would be nice, but what came out instead was a weird growly whine. A noise of warning mixed with a noise of pain. He might not be able to speak right then anyway, with the fact that he’d just been slashed across the face with a hot poker.

Besides, far more important was the vague plan he’d started concocting. If he did if fact, still have some connection to his magic, getting out would be fairly easy. The problem was knowing how connected he still was.

In his own body he’d started to feel his magic as a buzz under his skin. A reminder of the power he could wield once he started using it for things other than hiding the fact that he had it. He hadn’t felt it since entering Peter’s body, but neither had Peter commented on any such feeling so, maybe, his magic wasn’t connected to his body.

Which would actually make so much sense. Fuck, he was an idiot

His magic was anchored to his body because that’s where Stiles’s spirit was anchored. Now his spirit was attached to Peter’s body, but it was a fabricated connection, forced on him by foreign magic.

His magic would probably be unstable, fluctuating between the two points, but it should still be there.

Oh, he was going to wreak havoc.

Hot metal stabbed through his leg again, jolting him out of his thoughts. Some part of his brain noted that the heated weapons were probably a sign of intelligence, with the fire and everything. Damn hunters. At least Peter didn’t have to put up with this.

Derek had found the car without a problem. It was empty.

The scent headed towards Stiles’ favourite diner. He’d probably been planning to treat himself to some curly fries. By the scent, he hadn’t gotten that far. Foreign scents tainted the area, three people, some kind of tranquiliser, if he were to guess at the chemical smell, mountain ash and wolfs bane.

Hunters.

Derek pulled his phone out and paused for a moment before he dialled the Sheriff. John would talk to Argent for him, and he should know his son was kidnapped.

“What do you mean Stiles is missing?” Scott demanded frantically. The rest of the pack had just arrived from school, and were immediately on the alert thanks to the lack of baking. Derek rolled his eyes and didn’t dignify that with an answer, instead turning his attention to Peter, who was doing a remarkable job of not showing his displeasure.

It was weird since Stiles always got frantic when someone was missing. Seeing him calm was throwing Derek off.

“Peter, do you have any idea why someone might target you specifically?” he asked, receiving a raised eyebrow for his trouble.

“I think of quite a few,” Peter said with a shrug, “Reasons they might just want me, and reasons why they’d pick me over the rest of the pack. I’m on the fringe, and I don’t have any human relations that might throw a snit if I went missing. Meaning that they’d just have to wipe out another werewolf, which wouldn’t bother them.”

“You think they’ll go after Derek next?” Isaac asked.

“It really depends on why they took Stiles. Any hint of Argent in their scent?” Peter asked, giving Allison a sardonic smile in return for her glare. “You and your father may follow the ‘code’, but Kate and Gerard both had large followings that didn’t care much for it. Aside from which, it’s possible someone’s here to get revenge for either of them.”

“Why would someone kidnap you for revenge on Gerard?” Scott said, frowning bemusedly.

“Between his reputation and mine? Why wouldn’t people assume I’d killed him? No one would believe someone like me would allow a threat like him to live,” Peter said plainly, “and since I don’t think anyone went around spreading the word of his survival, a imagine quite a few people would assume he was dead. Of course, I’m sure that’s all perfectly under control and not among our current problems.”

Peter’s pointed look made heads slowly turn towards Allison. Erica slipped into Boyd’s arms, putting both of them just behind their Alpha without even realising. Watching Peter had to wonder if anyone noticed. Erica, Boyd and Isaac were finally acting like proper Beta’s, standing behind their Alpha, both to support him and for protection from a threat. Even Jackson had unconsciously gravitated towards Derek, and Lydia had simply moved with him.

Scott, as usual, stood by Alison, and also as usual, Peter stood off to the side, watching. It took him a moment to realise that Stiles’s absence didn’t make a drastic difference with this picture. Stiles tended to stand off to the side, like Peter, watching. Stiles was the one who stepped in and mediated, told one, or both, of the Alphas they were being an idiot.

The pack basically revolved around Stiles, probably the only reason no one was panicking already was because it was Stiles’s body standing here, not Peter’s.

Hopefully it would be enough to hold the werewolves together until they got Stiles back.

With all eyes on her, Allison pulled out her phone and stepped out of the room, as though that could stop the werewolves overhearing her. Scott, predictably, turned a glare on Peter.

“That was uncalled for,” he snarled. Peter, secure in the knowledge Scott wouldn’t hurt him in his best friend’s body, smirked back at him.

“Unless, of course, you were wrong, and Gerard is still a serious threat because you left him alive,” Peter said, with a clear sneer in his voice, “Perhaps, you should have listened to someone with more experience.”

“Gerard is-”

“Gone.” Allison’s voice interrupted, making all heads snap to her again, “Gerard’s gone.”

Silence reigned for a moment as everyone stared at the shocked looking huntress. Peter put his head in his hands. If Gerard had Stiles they were really in trouble.

“What?” Derek growled, breaking the silence. He was half way to shifting, his fangs out and his eyes glowing red. This would be were Stiles usually stepped in.

“He’s gone,” Allison repeated, “I just called Dad. He said he checked as soon as the Sheriff contacted him. Apparently Gerard signed out a month after we left him.”

“You weren’t watching him?” Erica snarled, clearly geared for a fight. Peter could just imagine the way her wolf was prompting her to fight, with a known threat out and about, and her Alpha riled up.

“It’s not Allison’s fault,” Scott snapped, carefully putting himself between Allison and the other werewolves. Peter rolled his eyes, if Gerard had Stiles they didn’t have time for this.

“Well, I’m glad to see you accepting responsibility, true Alpha,” Peter said, acid in his voice as he turned away from them. “Now if Stiles dies at Gerard’s hands we all know just whose fault it is.”

“Where are you going?” Isaac called after him.

“I’m going to see if I can track Stiles’ phone,” Peter answered, without turning back, “Then I’m going to try a few contacts, and make sure his homework is done so he doesn’t have that to worry about when we get him back.”

“Good plan.” Derek said, but Peter was already heading out the door regardless, “I managed to catch a scent where he must have been grabbed. We’ll start there and see what we can find. It’s possible they don’t know who’s in the pack, so no missing school, and make sure you still get your work done.”

“I’ll help with homework, since Peter’s tracing his phone.” Lydia said, speaking up for the first time, “Stiles and I started plotting potential hideouts for this kind of situation. I’ll look over the map and text you if anything jumps out at me. Remember to keep Peter away from footwork. We’ve already lost Stiles, we don’t need his body damaged on top of it.”

“You two can look into finding clues about Gerard,” Derek said to Scott and Allison, “Since you chose not to share information or keep an eye on him.”

“You’re not my Alpha Derek,” Scott growled, eyes flashing.

“And for once, I’m grateful.” Derek snapped, “Pack protects each other. A pack doesn’t allow threats like this to remain threats. You’re lucky Stiles was around to argue for keeping Allison around, because trust me, none of us were keen. We let Allison stay because she was important to you and Lydia, because Stiles made a good argument, and because she was manipulated.

“Gerard has none of those things backing him, and if I find him, I will kill him. I won’t force anyone else to, but I won’t stop them. You may be willing to risk this pack to keep your hands clean, but I’m not. If you want him to live, you better make sure he’s halfway around the world before I get near him.”

This said Derek turned and stalked away. Isaac, Erica and Boyd followed him without hesitation, Jackson gave Lydia a quick kiss before doing the same.

“He’s right,” Allison said quietly, voice a little shaky. “If it is Gerard that has Stiles this could have been avoided.”

“We can’t change it now,” Scott sighed, “C’mon, let’s go.”

They didn’t find anything. Well, not anything useful. Peter called Derek early on, saying he’d pinned down Stiles phone (Derek later found out that Stiles had taught Peter, Lydia and Boyd how to do it, and left a list of who had whose password. They all assumed Stiles just somehow had all of them) but they’d found the phone abandoned in the forest, clearly thrown away by the hunters.

Peter had looked like he wanted to snarl, but instead huffed and turned to the homework on his desk. Derek couldn’t help the small grin as he watched Peter glare at homework and tap his pencil against the desk rapidly. Peter getting riled up was always somewhat satisfying, even if he wasn’t in his own body, apparently.

It would be far more enjoyable if he wasn’t worried about Stiles.

With a sigh Derek turned from the doorway and headed back downstairs. He glanced over at the table where John and Melissa were sitting. John had been handling everything with the supernatural fairly well, but this was the first time they’d lost Stiles since then.

Melissa was probably more equipped to help him, but if Derek didn’t at least check Stiles would slaughter him.

Stiles blinked back into consciousness with a familiar feeling of disconnection from his body and it took him far too long to reconnect to his limbs and remember where he was. Usually he did this when he was safely in his room.

Also, it had been a long time since he’d had to struggle so much to control it.

He meditated on his magic, all the books suggested doing it. It had been hard at first, his brain naturally jumping around all over the place. He’d kept practicing though, and slowly he’d managed to start cutting off the distractions. He’d even managed astral projecting a few times, though it had been incredibly weak.

One the other hand, he had reached the stage of disconnecting himself from his body and travelling the lines of magic. He knew the ley lines of Beacon Hills like the back of his hand. Sometimes he just settled into the magic around him when he was having trouble sleeping. His body slept, and he got to relax, and learn. Two birds, one stone, anyone?

Admittedly the book didn’t say much about that, but they were frustratingly vague, and did say it was different for every person.

He was confident in his magic, he just hadn’t felt like sharing it with the pack yet. It was nice to have something his, and not have Scott going on about the supernatural taking over their lives and having to be careful and every other thing. Like Stiles wasn’t already watching out for all of them.

It had taken far longer than he would have liked to block out the… activity going on so he could actually manage to find that state. He didn’t even remember slipping completely, but he clearly had, and now he could feel, very faintly, the familiar buzz under his skin, and it, unlike the wolf, was completely unaffected by the mountain ash circle.

This was absolutely brilliant.

“Back with us wolf?” one of the hunters asked, sitting in a chair eyeing Stiles. Stiles blinked back at him slowly. The man shook his head, a look of disgust on his face.

“Sorry to disappoint,” Stiles said, forcing his tongue to work properly. He hadn’t thought to try meditating in Peter’s body, hadn’t wanted to try and be unable to find his magic. He wasn’t really keen to do it now either. It had gotten a lot easier, and now it felt like he was back at step one, struggling sluggishly through things that he’d breezed through the last time he’d done it in his own body.

“We were expecting more from Peter Hale,” the hunter said plainly, “You’ve been unconscious for half a day.”

“I’m not Peter,” Stiles replied absently, tensing and relaxing his muscles to check everything was still working. If he’d been unconscious for about half a day, it was at least midday on Thursday. Probably. Also, apparently it was worse than he’d thought. He’d barely lost any time the first time he’d found that state, he’d been more connected to his body, and the world outside the magic. No wonder werewolves couldn’t get magic. This was hard

So, midday Thursday, the pack had to know he was missing. They would have told his dad, and probably Chris if they’d realised it was hunters.

Oh. They’d probably suspect Gerard, which meant they would go look for him and realise he wasn’t where they’d left him.

Stiles jerked the chains without thinking. He didn’t want more people asking about Gerard. This was enough, thanks.

The hunter gave him a deeply unimpressed look before he was distracted by the door opening. Stiles eyed the other two hunters as they came in. They did not looked pleased. This could not be good.

Guess it was time to up the ante. Hopefully he could at least maintain focus long enough to somehow communicate his position. He’d have to go to his dad, anyone else would be too much extra effort.

Peter tapped his pencil against his desk, once again glad for Stiles’s reputation as a fidget. Stiles had been missing for over two days now and Peter was going slowly insane. He’d thought being human was bad? It was an entirely different kind of hell being unable to do anything because he was human.

If he was in his own body he could be searching right now, he could be pounding heads for information. Instead he was sitting in high school waiting for someone else to find a clue. It was infuriating.

Peter looked down as soon as his phone vibrated, already geared up and waiting for something.

From Derek: The Sheriff found a clue. We should move. You need to stay in class. Get the others out.

“Something you’d like to share, Mr Stilinski?” the teacher asked with a raised eyebrow.

“No, sorry,” Peter replied, looking up attentively as he tucked his phone away. Scott, Isaac and Lydia all eyed him, the only pack member in the class. Peter frowned uncertainly, how could they get at least most of the pack out of school without being written up for ditching?

…Scott’s asthma… take Isaac… Erica take Boyd…

Peter twitched almost violently, eyes darting around for the source of the voice. He thought he caught a flicker of something, but it was gone before he could focus on it. It had sounded like…

Peter smirked. Stiles must be up to more than even he’d expected.

“Scott, fake an asthma attack.” Peter whispered, eyes on his notes, “Get Isaac to take you home. They found a clue to where Stiles is. Tell Erica to fake sick as well, and Boyd can leave with her. Jackson and Allison will have to find their own excuse.”

Peter didn’t look over at them until Isaac was asking if he could take Scott to the nurse. He immediately volunteered himself to take notes for them. The teacher looked sceptical, but agree and the two werewolves hurried from the class. Peter made a point of taking proper notes for the rest of class.

Derek would text him an update before long.

He better.

Stiles rotated his neck as he returned to Peter’s body. He’d been right to think it would be hard, it had taken him another day to manage it, but he’d gotten… something. About his usual level of ability, actually, just with significantly more effort put in. No one had been able to see him, though he was pretty sure he’d almost managed it with his dad. It really did come the most naturally, seeing as his dad was the most important person in his life.

It hadn’t been perfect, obviously, but he managed to draw his dad’s attention to the right place, so at least they knew where he was. He’d stopped over at the school as well, to make sure they weren’t too blatant when they left.

He’d used up a large amount of his control contacting Peter. It had been easier contacting Peter, since it was Stiles’s body, and therefore had an almost unreasonable, but understandably strong connection. He’d almost just tried shoving Peter out and taking his own body back, but he wasn’t sure where that would leave Peter, and even standing beside his actual body he was still, ultimately, anchored to Peter’s.

The last thing they needed was Stiles accidentally locking Peter or himself in the astral plane. Scott would never shut up about it, and Stiles didn’t even want to think about Deaton’s reaction.

He really hated that man sometimes.

After contacting Peter he’d pretty much been dragged back to Peter’s body. Astral projecting, wasn’t half as easy and relaxing as people suggested it was. It probably didn’t help that he was in someone else’s body and pushing his limits as far as they would go.

“You’re not half as intimidating as the stories would have us believe,” his current watcher said. They were all pretty bored with him, even the boss seemed to be losing interest.

“Yes, yes, I’m very dull,” Stiles sighed, reaching up to grab the chains of his manacles. His hands burned a bit at the contact, but he’d just have to grit his teeth until opportunity came. He was pretty sure he could break the circle, and then, well, he’d already broken out of special chains once, hadn’t he? He didn’t want to waste unnecessary time, though. Time was essential in these kinds of situations.

He just needed an appropriate distraction. He had to balance his magic and the wolf and do things he was pretty sure were supposed to be impossible, he’d rather not have three hunters trying to kill him at the same time.

A roar from above made Stiles grin. There was that distraction.

It worked perfectly, too. The hunter guarding Stiles immediately grabbed his gun and his cattle prod and headed up stairs. Stiles didn’t waste any time, and focused his energy on the mountain ash. A sweep of his head was enough to break the circle, and then the wolf came forward.

Stiles didn’t even bother fighting it. The wolf roared loudly, alerting his pack as he tore the chains off with only slight stain, eased by Stiles pulling his magic forward just a bit, and dropped them to the floor. He quickly broke the chains holding his legs as well, just in time to dodge out of the way of falling rubble.

That was enough to encourage Stiles to take the reins back. What the hell were they doing up there? There were only three hunter for God’s sake.

Or two, perhaps, seeing as the leader had just run back down the stairs, gun pointing where Stiles had previously been chained. Stiles snarled at him, and the hunter’s eyes widened at he turned towards him.

“How?” he breathed, startled. Stiles probably would have had a witty come back, except that he could hear the floor above them cracking. The hunter fired of a shot and Stiles just managed to dodge it as the floor about collapsed in on the hunter.

Stiles moved towards him as the dust began to settle. The hunter wasn’t surviving this. Stiles could smell the blood and hear his heart stuttering as it tried to get past the shock and keep working. Stiles was pretty sure the man had been stabbed somewhere important at least once, and probably hit on the head several times, never mind any broken bones he had.

Stiles leant forward with a very nasty grin, all fangs and promises of pain. Peter’s wolf all but purred at the fear in the hunter’s eye, the twisted thing.

“Still want to find Gerard?” Stiles asked quietly, meeting the dying man’s eyes unflinchingly. “You’ll probably see him when you join him in Hell.”

The man’s eyes widened again, and he opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but instead he just gargled up blood.

Stiles stepped away from him, shook himself a little and went to see if the stairs were damaged. He hoped none of the werewolves had been paying attention to him. He doubted it, Peter, and sometimes Derek, were the only ones who really used their enhanced senses to their full advantage. He’d just have to hope Derek had been preoccupied.

On the bright side, though, he might have finally found a solution to the body swap thing. He just had to get his hands on Peter.

Chapter Text

Stiles moved carefully around the rubble on the floor and up the stairs. The pack needed to get out before one of them ended up like the hunter. Even if they might survive, Stiles didn’t think any of them would enjoy it. At least it was Friday, no school tomorrow.

Finally upstairs Stiles wanted to roll his eyes. Two goddamned hunters against five werewolves and they were tearing the building down. Honestly.

Stiles quickly took stock of where everyone was. Scott was clearly trying to keep them from killing, but had some kind of goddamn harpoon through his leg, and the wall behind him, keeping him in place. Ok, maybe he’d forgive them this one.

Boyd was in a similar situation, though his harpoon was going through his shoulder, Isaac was guarding Erica, who had a bullet wound in her leg, and Derek was trying to fight with three knives sticking out of him. For God’s sake.

“Isaac, get her out,” Stiles called, moving for Boyd. “Derek get Scott.”

“But-”

“Do it, the goddamn buildings coming down,” Stiles snapped, wondering if they’d missed the huge hole in the floor. The harpoons had barbs on both ends, instead of just the end buried in the wall, they clearly weren’t meant to come out. This was going to be fun. At least the middle was fairly smooth.

He grabbed Boyd’s arm with one hand to drain some of the pain away as he held the harpoon with his other hand. Boyd just grit his teeth and nodded. Stiles didn’t wait any longer, shifting to bring out his fangs he ignored the taste of mountain ash and forced the harpoon to snap.

Boyd let out a high pitched whine, but Stiles pulled him forward sharply and pushed him to the side, just managing to dodge out of the way as a bullet hit the wall. He turned, a roar echoing through the building. Boyd stumbled slightly, but continued away from him, helping Derek get Scott unpinned.

“Stiles!” Scott shouted, trying to get to him, even as the roof started caving.

“Out!” Stiles commanded them. He was on the wrong side of the room; the collapsing ceiling was going to block him from the door. He had more important priorities though.

The hunter’s eyes widened as he realised Stiles was coming towards him. He was leaning heavily on the railing, and his hands were shaking as he tried to aim at Stiles again. It appeared he’d suffered injuries, not from the wolves, but from the falling building. Idiot.

Stiles leapt at him before he could fire off another shot, his attention focused on the gun. He caught it in his mouth and forced it from the hunter’s hand, his momentum carrying him past the man. That done Stiles took off running forward. A good plan considering the second level was following the roof’s lead.

Now, if this were a movie, there’d be a conveniently positioned window for Stiles to leap through.

This was not a movie.

Fortunately, Stiles had adrenaline and werewolf strength to make up for the real world’s lack of convenient window placement.

Outside, the pack watched wide-eyed as the building caved in, but they were all listening for Stiles, and were therefore quick to look up as he came crashing through the solid concrete wall of the second story. The all watched as Peter’s beta form flew across the air for a moment before heading for the ground. He hit the ground with a roll that definitely wouldn’t have helped much if he’d been human.

Fortunately, werewolf strength, durability, and healing made up for Stiles’ lack of experience with jumping out of second story buildings. They did not, however, cover up his excitement.

“Oh my God, that was the most awesome thing I have ever done,” he exclaimed, after he’d the gun out of his mouth and started jogging over to the group, “Seriously, I am never going to get to do anything that cool again. I was an action movie man.”

Most of the group looked at him like he was insane, but Erica let out a pained laugh from where her head was being cushioned in Boyd’s lap. Stiles immediately redirected himself to move towards her, opening the gun. His lip curled at the scent of wolfsbane, but he ignored it, pulling open one of the bullets to pour the powder onto a flat bit of stone.

Isaac handed him a lighter and Stiles didn’t waste any time burning the wolfsbane and shoving the ash into Erica’s leg. Erica let out a high pitched whine of surprised pain. Boyd cringed as her claws dug into his arm, but didn’t make a noise of complaint.

The pack watched the sick black lines in Erica’s leg fade away to nothing and they all breathed a sigh of relief.

“That was rude, Catwoman,” Stiles said with a grin. “Stealing all my attention.”

“Oh God,” Erica snorted, laughter in her voice despite the pain that was still there, “That sounds so weird coming out of Peter’s mouth.”

Stiles snorted right back, smiling as Erica retracted her claws, grimacing at Boyd, who just smiled back, running a hand through her hair. Then Scott tackled him.

“Oh my god, are you ok?” he demanded, looking him over. Stiles flipped them so that he was on top of Scott and Peter’s wolf wasn’t snarling anymore, before standing and offering his hand.

“I’m fine, Scott,” he rolled his eyes, “I’m pretty much already healed. Gotta admit, I’m gonna miss the super healing when I get my own body back.”

“Yeah, and jumping through walls,” Isaac commented with an eye roll. “That was a bit dramatic, wasn’t it?”

“Hey, I’m not the one who brought a building down trying to take out three hunters,” Stiles shot back, “Who was meant to be rescuing who here?”

“Well, maybe if you hadn’t gotten yourself kidnapped.”

“Don’t victim blame, Isaac. Maybe we won’t come rescue you next time. We could sell your scarf collection.”

“Enough,” Derek sighed, rolling his eyes at the pair. “Let’s get out of here before the police show up.”

“Good plan,” Stiles agreed, “Dad won’t be able to slow them down long with the ruckus you guys made.”

“Plus, I definitely need a change of clothes,” Erica groaned as she stood.

“No kidding,” Stiles snorted. His own pants weren’t in great shape, and his shirt had been disposed of a while ago. The pack hurried into the woods, making their way towards Derek’s loft. Scott handed Stiles his phone, and he quickly shot off texts to his dad and Peter. School should be about finished, and he knew they’d both what the all clear from him.

He got two texts back almost immediately. His dad said they were going to investigate a ruckus and wanted to see him later, and Peter said he was heading for Derek’s.

Everything was back to normal, easy peasy.

Things were not back to normal. Things were insane.

“For God’s sake!” Stiles snapped, “Do you want me to make you food or do you want me to let you latch on to me? You have to make a decision. I can’t do both.”

Scott, Isaac and Erica all made high whining noises at the idea of letting him go and Stiles rolled his eyes. He’d been mobbed after coming back down from his shower. He’d managed to struggle to the couch and had been stuck there since. Isaac and Scott were both sitting at his feet, each of them leaning on one of his legs, Erica was curled into one of his sides, and Boyd was on her other side but with his arm stretched across the back of the couch so he could have a hand on Stiles’ shoulder.

Peter was sat on his other side, but at least he hadn’t latched to Stiles like a leech.

Lydia, Allison and Jackson had all decided to sit on different furniture, thank God.

“I’m ordering pizza,” Derek informed them all, which quieted the Beta’s at least.

“That’s great,” Stiles huffed, “But eventually I am going to have to leave. I promised Dad I’d come home to see him after his shift finished.”

“Well, it’s not like they don’t have homes to get to, as well,” Peter said absently. “Eventually they’ll have to let you up.”

“I just don’t get what the big deal is,” Stiles sighed, giving up and relaxing back into the couch. “Everyone here’s been kidnapped at least once. I’m back, I’m healed, it’s fine.”

“We were worried,” Scott said, looking up at him with wide puppy eyes, “We didn’t know who had you and you looked like Peter. What if they decided you weren’t useful?”

“I don’t really think they had any other leads,” Stiles snorted amusedly, “I wasn’t exactly being helpful.”

“We’re still looking into what happened to Gerard,” Allison said, “Dad said that is looks like he signed himself out but we can’t find a paper trail. He shouldn’t have been able to get fair on his own.”

“I don’t think his being there would have helped much anyway,” Stiles said with a shrug, “Can’t we just celebrate getting over this catastrophe before we worry about the next one?”

Peter glanced at Stiles curiously. That wasn’t like Stiles, he was usually encouraging them to deal with things immediately. He looked a little off too. Most likely he was still tired from healing and the activity of his rescue. Still, he’d seemed mostly fine.

The rest of the pack simply nodded at his request, sitting quietly together until pizza arrived and the werewolves all threw themselves on the food. Peter rolled his and sat back until the werewolves had eased off. There had been a lot of healing to do between the pack members, so they were going to gorge themselves, and he didn’t particularly want to be in the middle of that.

“Come on, I’ll drive you home,” Stiles said, offering his hand to pull Peter off the couch. Everyone was starting to filter out of the loft and Isaac had already fallen asleep on the couch.

“Very well,” Peter replied, accepting the hand. He waited until they were in the car and down the road before he spoke again, “Is there something you’d like to share?”

“I may have a way to swap us back,” Stiles said, which was not what Peter had been expecting. Stiles smirked at him, and Peter rolled his eyes.

“Why didn’t you tell the pack?” he asked, instead of trying to redirect the conversation again, that could wait until he was back in his own body.

“You know why, Peter.” Stiles replied with a roll of his eyes. “I know you worked out a while ago that I was practising magic.

“I must admit, I like that you’re choosing to include me in this little secret of yours,” Peter smirked. “It makes me feel all kinds of special.”

“Sure, you’re a special boy,” Stiles snorted, “The point is I’m going to need you to do some of the work, since you’re the one in the human body. I can’t do much of anything with your wolf here to fight my magic.”

“So that little trick in the classroom?” Peter asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh, you did notice it was me,” Stiles said as they pulled into the Stilinski driveway, sounding slightly surprised, “I’ll explain it later.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Peter murmured as they headed for the door. John pulled Stiles into a hug as soon as they were inside, careless of the fact that it was Peter’s body.

“God, Stiles, I was so worried about you,” he said, his voice almost desperate.

“Hey, it’s fine, I’m fine Dad.” Stiles replied, though he wrapped his dad in a hug as well. Peter watched them for a moment before he moved up to Stiles’ bedroom. Even with the kidnapping he’d spent far more time with Stiles since the body than he usually did. It was… nice. It was like having an actual pack mate again, and now Stiles was going to ‘fix’ it.

Don’t get him wrong, Peter definitely wanted his own body back, he despised being in a human body regardless of how much he may like the actual human. He might miss it though, if Stiles started distancing them again after this. At least Stiles didn’t seemed to have picked up too much from his wolf. Well, he hadn’t acted any different at least.

“Peter, c’mon, I need you to get some things from the attic,” Stiles said, interrupting Peter’s train of thought.

“Ah, so that’s where you’re keeping it,” Peter replied, even as he stood to follow.

“Yep,” Stiles said, pulling down the stairs to the attic, “Now go up there and grab one of the medium jars of mountain ash. We shouldn’t need much else, oh, except there’s a silver case with white chalk in it, grab that just in case.”

“You have a larger collection then I was expecting,” Peter commented as he admired the room he found himself in. The walls were covered in runes and there were shelves upon shelves covered in jars and baggies of herbs, ashes and other things he didn’t care to investigate. Then there were the books. When had Stiles found the time to make this collection? He picked one up and looked it over, smirking when he recognised it. “Did you steal this from Deaton?”

“Misappropriated,” Stiles said, “Please don’t touch anything you don’t need to. Some of them are volatile and it’s been like two weeks since I’ve been up there.”

“Why don’t you come up?” Peter asked, even as he moved to find the requested items.

“It’s not exactly werewolf friendly up there,” Stiles said, a hint of laughter in his tone, “Also you’re not attuned to the wards and I don’t want to push our luck. We’re lucky you could get it.”

Peter paused, frowning. “What, exactly, would have happened if the wards hadn’t let me in?”

“You would have fallen down, and I would have caught you,” Stiles answered absently, “Unless of course you had ill intent and then… well I’m not a hundred percent sure, but I’m certain it wouldn’t have been fun.”

“Did it occur to you I might appreciate a warning?” Peter asked with a scowl, carefully climbing back down the ladder.

“Yeah, but magic’s all about intent, and if you were having second thoughts who know what would have happened,” Stiles answered with a shrug, “Besides, look at you, your fine, let’s go.”

Peter couldn’t help but sigh as he followed Stiles out to the car. You could always count on Stiles to be full of energy in one form or another. Still, at least this was excited energy and not the anxious energy that had had him baking non-stop since he’d entered Peter’s body.

Stiles drove them out to the preserve and parked the Jeep. Peter watched him pause for a moment when he stepped out of the car, tilting his head back and taking a deep breath through his nose. He was clearly scenting the area, checking for threats. Or any of the pack, either way.

“C’mon,” he said easily, handing Peter a flashlight and taking the jar of mountain ash. “We need to find a relatively flat area. I thought about a warehouse, but we could use the extra energy. Plus, nature will want to put things back in the natural order.”

“But you’re certain you know the right spell?” Peter asked, carefully stepping rocks and roots, “You didn’t seem eager to risk it when Deaton mentioned possible consequences.”

“That’s because Deaton never explains anything properly and I trust him as far as I can thow him,” Stiles scoffed, “In my body, I mean. The point is that you can only screw up a spell if you’re doing a spell. The risk was doing the wrong counter spell and locking the witches spell. The solution is to not use a spell. Which no one would suggest since it requires us doing magic.”

“And no one knows you can,” Peter concluded with a nod.

“I didn’t know I could,” Stiles snorted, “Werewolves can’t do magic, and I wasn’t sure if you or me had the magic.”

“But now you do?”

“Sure, we both have it.”

“Would you care to explain further?”

“Having magic isn’t like being a werewolf. Being a werewolf is all physical, it’s part of your body. The mentality is mostly just because of the way you were raised, plus a bit of animal instinct. Magic, is different. Yeah, a lot of the time it’s passed down through the family, but mostly it’s a matter of putting in the effort and using the potential. Most people have the potential for magic, they just don’t know it.

“More importantly, though, magic is connected to the spirit, it’s part of your energy. The spell didn’t just swap our minds, it swapped our spirits. Meaning that, technically, I still have my magic because it’s part of what moved over. On the other hand, a werewolf can’t manipulate magic because the two supernatural forces would overwhelm the person, it’s just too much energy for one body. It’s actually likely that when two werewolves have a human child that child will have a very high affinity for magic.

“Now, like I said you can’t be a werewolf and manipulate magic, you can have the potential, though. Also, you can block out a werewolf’s wolf. It doesn’t stop them from being a werewolf, but gives a bit more leeway, add to that the fact I’m not really a werewolf, and we have our solution.”

“Do we?” Peter asked bemusedly, it was certainly interesting, but he wasn’t sure he was entirely following Stiles’ train of thought. Perhaps this was how the others felt when he or Lydia spoke?

“Don’t you see?” Stiles demanded, turning to him with bright eyes, “Within a mountain ash the wolf is muted, meaning that, with some effort, I can still manipulate my magic because it’s part of me and because it’s more natural to me than your wolf.”

“But you won’t be casting a spell?”

“Well, ok, saying I can manipulate magic makes it sound like I’m at full power. I can do extremely minor things with about double the effort it usually takes. I can really only manipulate enough magic to for minor spirit magic, like astral projecting. This helps us because you can do it too.”

“I can?”

“Yeah, because, my magic potential, the magic that’s actually in my blood and body is quite strong, if I do say so myself. Meaning you should be able to do about as much as I can, because you’re not practiced and it’s not your magic. Basically, we’re going to leave our bodies and then all the energies around us will want to put us back in the right places, but we both have to do it or… well, once we start I should be able to guide you through it, so it’ll be fine.”

“Here looks good,” Stiles said, putting his jar down and beginning to clear a fairly flat patch of dirt. He turned to Peter once it was done. “Ok, make a mountain ash circle large enough for us to sit cross legged facing each other. Try to use as little as possible. It’s not as easy to come by as one might think.”

Peter raised an eyebrow, but did as he was told, making the circle around Stiles, who watched with a sharp eye. Once that was done he closed the jar and stepped into the circle with only a small cringe, and sat down in front of Stiles.

They were sat so close their knees were touching and Stiles grabbed Peter’s hand once he sat down, resting their joined hands on their knees.

“Ok, now give me a moment, and then I’m going to pull you out,” Stiles said, taking a deep breath as he closed his eyes. “Focus on wanting to get out of my body and into yours, and for the love of God don’t fight me when I start trying to pull you out.”

Peter watched in silence. After a moment his body seemed to still even more, though it didn’t slump over as he’d half expected. He could barely see its chest moving and it was definitely odd to see what an empty, but living, body looked like.

The he felt it. At first it was just like someone pulling on his hands, then it became more forceful. It felt like someone was trying to pull him through a solid barrier. He took a deep breath, ignoring every part of him that wanted to fight the action and focused on wanting to get out of Stiles’ body.

Another moment of pressure and then the world seemed to shift for a moment. He couldn’t feel the weight of a body anymore and he gripped tighter to the hands holding his for a moment, before he reopened his eyes and found himself looking at a transparent Stiles, grinning happily at him. Stiles guided him into turning so he was floating over his own body rather than Stiles.

Peter hoped like hell this never happened again. For all that Stiles seemed fine, Peter just felt unbalanced and a bit ill. At least he didn’t seem able to throw up in this state. That would have been strange and embarrassing.

Stiles tugged on his hands again. He raised an eyebrow when Peter focused on him again, giving Peter’s body a pointed look. Right. He closed his eyes again, and focused on wanting to return to his own body. It wasn’t hard. He hated this state, and as soon as he thought of being in his own body it was like he was being sucked back into it.

It was almost violent the way he found himself forced back into his own body, like he been simultaneously pulled and shoved by something desperate to get him back in that body. It made his stomach roil and his wolf growl.

The growl immediately shifted into a pleased rumble as the wolf recognised Peter. He could feel the remnants of panic and loss, even with the mountain ash muting his connection. He opened his eyes to see Stiles looking back at him with glowing gold eyes.

There was something he hadn’t realised he’d really, really like.

“You back?” Stiles asked, and his voice had a small echo behind it. Peter took in a breath through his nose and revelled at all he could smell, even if it was muted by the circle. The scents of the forest, moss, dirt, animals, and the smell of Stiles, unaffected by the circle. His scent was strong and clean, heavy with ozone and mixing with Peter’s own scent. It occurred to him only now that Stiles had been masking the scent of his magic.

“You’re amazing,” he said without thinking, getting a small thrill from the grin Stiles gave him, his eyes not dimming even a little.

“Feels good to be connected again,” Stiles said, closing his eyes and relaxing his posture. Peter didn’t have to ask what he meant. For all Stiles said it was different, Stiles had just reconnected with his magic like Peter had reconnected with his wolf.

When Stiles reopened his eyes they were back to normal, but he was still grinning hugely as he stood and stretched, only to freeze as he looked at the ground.

“Shit,” he said quietly, looking at the ground. Peter stood as well and looked down. The circle around them, the circle that had been ash, was now a circle of small green sprouts. With a frown Peter leaned down curiously. It couldn’t be…

“They’re growing,” Stiles hissed, eyes wide, hand on his chest, “I’m a fucking idiot.”

“Stiles?” Peter asked uncertainly, because, yes, the plants were growing. They were visibly growing as the pair stood in the middle of them.

“Remember I said the energies would want to return things to their natural order?” Stiles said with a cringe, “Yeah, I may have forgotten that with my magic in the mix that may include more than just putting us back in the right bodies. Try not to touch them, a strongly magical plant feeding off relatively pure magic? I’m not sure how they would react to a perceived threat.”

“Can you stop it?”

“Uh, probably.”

“Probably?”

“Well, you’re kind of covered in my magic!” Stiles snapped, looking a bit frantic, “Even if I take myself out of the circle, they can keep using the magic on you and I don’t know when that will stop.”

The sprouts were about half way to their knees now, and only seemed to be speeding up with Stiles’ panic.

“Stiles,” Peter said in a firm voice, grabbing Stiles by the shoulders and making the boy meet his eyes, “You just did something Deaton didn’t think of. A man with decades of experience on you. You know your magic. Now calm down.”

“Right,” Stiles said with wide eyes, then determination came onto his face and his nodded firmly, “Right, I just have to think. I can do this. How do I get a werewolf out of a mountain ash circle? Facts. The caster can always get passed. Humans can always get- oh! No they can’t! Will of the caster! Peter we cast the circle!”

“Yes, and how does that help us?” Peter asked, focusing on calming his wolf. It did not want to be trapped in a circle of mountain ash trees. Even if it was with Stiles.

“Do you trust me?” Stiles demanded sharply, drawing Peter’s attention from the knee high plants.

“Yes,” he answered, confused but honest.

“Great,” Stiles grinned, grabbing Peter’s had and doing a little hope over the plants, “Step over the circle.”

“What?”

“Step over the circle, Peter,” Stiles commanded, tugging on his arm.

“Stiles, I’m still a werewolf,” Peter said, even as he approached the barrier of saplings.

“I know,” Stiles assured, “But I’m not. Trust me, Peter. Step over the circle.”

Peter met Stiles’ eyes and saw the bright determination illuminating them. He did trust Stiles, even after everything.

It was a large step over the plants but Peter took it, he paused for only a moment when it felt like his foot was hitting something solid. He kept going. It felt like he was pushing through jello and his wolf was whining loudly as they stepped over a barrier far more potent than just ash, but Stiles was pulling him over. His eyes were glowing again, though not quite as brightly as before.

As soon as his foot touch the ground on the other side of the plants Peter tumbled forward like a rope had been cut, though he managed to keep himself from touching any of the plants. He fell forward, just managing to catch himself before he landed on top of Stiles.

“Holy shit,” the teen breathed as he looked up at Peter. “Holy shit, dude, that was impossible.”

“And yet here we are,” Peter smirk, rolling off the boy, who still didn’t move, and looking towards the saplings, “They’re still growing too fast.”

“Yeah, but neither of us is about to become one with the trees, it’s just excess energy now,” Stiles snorted. “Holy shit, Peter, I wasn’t sure I was going to be able to get you out.”

“I had confidence you would,” Peter assured with a smirk, then he paused and looked down at the still motionless boy. “Are you getting up?”

“No,” Stiles answered with another snort, “I have jelly limbs and an endorphin high. You’re going to have to carry me.”

“Well, I suppose I can manage that,” Peter said amusedly, he easily lifted Stiles off the floor, revelling in the return of his strength.

“Great,” Stiles mumbled, managing to turn his head into Peter’s chest, thought his limbs remained limp. It suddenly occurred to Peter than, insane as it seemed, Stiles trusted Peter just as much as Peter trusted him.

His wolf rumbled happily at the thought, content now that things were the way they would be in its eyes.

“I am very glad it’s Saturday tomorrow,” Stiles mumbled, sounding sleepy, his heart beat was peaceful and slow, “I’m gonna sleep all day.”

“That might cause the pack some worry,” Peter replied amusedly, “You don’t want to give them the good news?”

“They’ll work it out,” Stiles said, and he was definitely half asleep now, “I’m gonna need to cover my scent again.”

“I like your scent,” Peter murmured, not really intending for Stiles to hear it. Judging by the sleepy smile though, he had heard.

“I know,” he said without opening his eyes, “You have to take me to dinner, ‘nd sit down with m’ dad.”

“What?” Peter asked, freezing. Stiles knew? What did he think he knew? And take him to dinner? Talk to his dad? That sounded like…

“You’re pack t’ me,” Stiles told him, “‘nd I’mma give you a chance. I’mma kill you if you’re an ass though.”

Peter remained frozen for a long moment, shock coursing through him as Stiles fell to sleep in his arms. His wolf was howling victory, though Peter could already tell it wouldn’t be that easy. Stiles wasn’t accepting Peter as a permanent partner, as a mate. He was accepting him as a pack mate and giving him a chance.

It was honestly more than Peter had been expecting.

“I’m sure you will,” he said to the sleeping boy. “And I will try my best to avoid it.”

Starting with getting him home and in bed. They could discuss it more later, after all, Stiles didn’t seem to be going anywhere.

Chapter Text

Stiles did not, in fact, sleep the whole day. Actually, he woke up the next morning buzzing with energy. He got up early enough to shower, refresh his scent cloaking ward, and get from the attic to the kitchen in time to make his dad breakfast.

He was in such a good mood he even cooked the man a rasher of bacon.

“Stiles won’t be pleased,” Dad warned, even as he dug in and savoured the piece.

“Stiles is actually very, very happy, and enjoying his day immensely,” Stiles grinned hugely, “I am feeling refreshed and appropriately proportional.”

The Sheriff paused, watching him properly. When he was looking it was much easier to tell it really was his son in front of him. His manic energy was back in place, leading him easily around the kitchen as he danced slightly to music only he could hear.

John immediately pushed away from the table and pulled the teen into a hug, enjoying having him at the right size again. Stiles returned the hug happily, practically melting into it. They’d always been better at hugging it out than communicating. It was a flaw. Speaking of which…

“Stiles, do we need to have a conversation?” John asked seriously, pulling back to hold Stiles at arm’s length. Stiles’ brows furrowed, confusion plain on his face.

“About what?”

“About Peter.”

“Uh, was there something to discuss about Peter?” Stiles asked uncertainly. John sighed, pointedly making Stiles take a seat. He had some time before he had to head for work.

“Stiles, despite what it may seem given how long it took me to be introduced to the supernatural, I’m not actually blind,” he said firmly, while Stiles just stared at him, confused and a bit nervous, “I saw the way Peter acted around you these past couple weeks, it looked like it was killing him being unable to do more to help find you.”

“Oh, uh, this isn’t really something I feel we need to-”

“We’re discussing it, Stiles,” John interrupted, voice firm as he watched his son’s face closely. “Peter clearly cares about you a fair bit and I want you to promise that you’ll be careful and not get swept away.”

“Dad, oh my god, please don’t make this a thing.”

“Stiles, please be serious for a moment, then we can both pretend this didn’t happen. Now, do you like Peter Hale?”

“No fair bring in your Sheriff voice,” Stiles grumbled, before sighing and saying seriously, “Yeah, I think I do. I mean, he’s a pain in the ass, but so am I, and I trust him to have my back, which is pretty important.”

“And if I agree not to threaten him too much, you promise not to let him lead you into anything you’re not ready for.”

“Jeez dad, I haven’t even discussed this with Peter yet,” Stiles groaned, then continued quickly at his father’s look, “Yes, ok, I’ll sick Scott and Derek on him the moment he starts trying to make me do something I don’t want to do.”

“Good,” John said with a firm nod, standing up and heading towards the door, “And you won’t be having any sex until after you turn eighteen.”

“Dad!”

Stiles’ shriek followed himself out the door and John allowed himself a smile. Things were getting back to some semblance of normal.

Plus, he might just mention the Peter situation to Deputy Tara and then he wouldn’t be the one threatening Peter. Tara was excellent at spreading the word about such things.

Yes, today was looking like a good day.

Stiles pointedly put his ‘conversation’ with his dad to the back of his mind. It was irrelevant until he spoke to Peter anyway. Speaking of, he better go break the news to Derek and Isaac. Isaac might cry or something if Stiles just stopped providing breakfast without warning, and Derek would just stand there looking repressed.

Not on Stiles’ watch. His somewhat manic energy still hadn’t dissipated when he arrived at the loft, so it was with an extra bounce and some extra flailing that Stiles started preparing breakfast. He suspected the pack would be over pretty early, if only to get back in Stiles’ space. He’d make breakfast, they’d laze for a while, and then maybe Stiles would drive Peter home, talk about the whole ‘mates’ and ‘feelings’ thing.

Isaac and Derek were woken either by the noise, or the smell, because they both appeared as Stiles began laying food laden plates on the table. They both paused for a moment at the sight.

“Morning,” Stiles greeted cheerfully. “Thought I’d come tell you that we’re fixed. I mean, I assume, I haven’t seen Peter yet. Also, I figured I could make you a last meal, since I’m not coming over every day before school to cook you loser’s breakfast.”

Isaac made an unhappy noise in the back of his throat before he moved, gracing Stiles as he headed for the table. Derek just grunted acknowledgement and accepted the mug of coffee Stiles offered him. It was more for the smell than the caffeine, which had little to no effect on the werewolves.

“Peter’s not here,” Derek told him after a moment, and Stiles turned to him with a frown.

“He’s not?”

“Didn’t come back last night,” Isaac agreed with a nod, “We figured you were spending the night with your dad.”

“Huh,” Stiles said, eyebrows drawing together. He’d assumed Peter would be in the house, he always seemed to be around for major events. The sound of running feet pulled Stiles from his thoughts and he looked up in time to see Scott skidding into the room.

“I made it for breakfast!” he shouted gleeful, making the other two werewolves roll their eyes. Stiles just smiled fondly.

“Yeah, you did buddy, help yourself,” he said, watching his friend amusedly. How long would it take?

“Thanks Stiles,” Scott said happily, loading up a plate. Isaac and Derek both paused to stare at him for a moment until Scott suddenly froze, head snapping up to look at Stiles who raised an eyebrow, “Stiles!”

“Last I checked, yeah,” Stiles said with a small laugh, “Took you long enough buddy, but I’ll forgive since I assume you got up extra early to get my breakfast.”

“Oh my God this is great!” Scott said happily, “I think people at school were beginning to suspect something.”

“Not really,” Isaac countered with a small shrug, “Peter actually did a pretty good job.”

Stiles interrupted the potential argument by pointedly placing another plate in front of Scott, who was effectively distracted. He ruffled Isaac’s hair as he moved back toward the kitchen, assuring him he wasn’t angry.

Today was a going to be a good day, and if Peter didn’t show up Stiles would just track him down. Probably sooner rather than later, he wasn’t sure if yesterday was going to have any kind of backlash on the werewolf. The last thing they needed was any more magic problems.

Speaking of, he should probably check on the tree circle at some point. He’d get to that right after Peter.

The morning went about as well as Stiles predicted. True to form, the entire pack showed up to devour his breakfast. He couldn’t help but notice that Allison, and by extension Scott, were both getting a bit of a cold shoulder. It wasn’t good, but it didn’t seem to be an immediate problem either, so Stiles made the executive decision that whatever fight had been had could be dealt with later. Much later, preferably, as it probably had something to do with-

“So, what are we going to do about Gerard?” Erica asked. She was curled into Boyd’s side, with Stiles sitting on her other side, and looking at Derek curiously.

“I stand by what I said,” Derek replied blandly, “We keep watch for any signs of him, and if he shows up again, I’ll deal with it.”

“And if we don’t find him first?” Boyd asked. The pack watched Derek’s face go dark imagining Gerard getting the upper hand again.

“I’ll ask Peter to see what he can find out. If anything serious is happening his contacts are far more likely to know. Otherwise we just be careful, and if he shows up, he’s fair game. He’s a threat to the pack and his life is forfeit.”

Stiles could see Scott’s hackles rising, even as Allison looked away, pointedly not getting involved. What the Hell had he missed?

“Well, personally,” he announced, breaking the sombre mood of the room and cutting in before Scott could speak, “I want to enjoy a nice, quiet weekend where we all get to pretend for a little while that our lives aren’t insane games of life and death.”

“You mean, like normal teenagers?” Isaac asked with a snort.

“Exactly,” Stiles said with a sharp nod, “Who’s with me?”

“If it means we don’t have to spend all day here, I’m going to have to agree with Stilinski.” Jackson said, though it looked like it pained him to do so.

“See, even Jackson’s agreeing with me,” Stiles declared, pointedly ignoring Jackson’s cringe, “I’m a genius. C’mon, Derek, a day of rest, I was kidnapped recently you know, it’s very stressful. I need to recoup and come to terms with events. These loving teenage couples need to find solace in each other’s arm to come to terms with the dark reality that is our lives. Isaac-”

“Fine,” Derek said sharply, though his lips were twitching a little bit, “If it’ll shut you up fine, go enjoy your Saturday, just God, please, stop.”

“Done,” Stiles agreed, bouncing off the couch eagerly, “Vive la freedom, my friends.”

The Beta’s all laughed and chuckled as they began getting up and filtering out of the house.

“And I left you two some cookies and stuff somewhere in the kitchen,” Stiles said quietly to Derek and Isaac once the others had all left, “So you can wean yourselves off it.”

Derek scoffed, but Isaac was eyeing the kitchen speculatively.

“Happy hunting,” Stiles said with a grin, heading out of the loft. Now, to find Peter. Hopefully it wouldn’t be too hard, after all, unless he’d already started searching for some clue about Gerard, the most likely place for him to be was his apartment.

That might not have been helpful to the rest of the pack, but Stiles was not the rest of the pack. Stiles was a little shit who didn’t obey societal rules about respecting privacy. He’d tracked down Peter’s apartment ages ago.

He’d just never actually visited.

Well, now was a good a time as any.

His energetic high had lowered to a low buzz, not too much worse than his regular energy, but still there. So, based on that if Peter was having any side effects he should be over the worst of it. Probably.

Either way Stiles made his way across town and into the apartment building. Really, he didn’t understand why people would expect any less from him. Finding stuff out was his thing, of course he knew where Peter lived. It had only taken him two weeks, too. He was fairly proud of that.

The elevator ride was quiet, going straight up to Peter’s floor without picking up any other passengers. It was a nice apartment building, considering how close it was to the edge of town. Stiles entertained himself momentarily with images of Peter interacting with neighbours, sweet old women and lonely flirting ones alike. If those thoughts were anywhere near reality the pack weren’t giving Peter enough credit for controlling his temper.

Stiles stepped out of the elevator with a snicker and headed towards Peter’s apartment. There was a strange noise from inside, a muffled growl and a grunt. Stiles raised his hand, but the door opened before he could knock.

He saw bright blue eyes for just a moment before arms wrapped around him and he was being pulled into the apartment. Peter kicked the door closed behind them without pulling his nose away from Stiles’ neck. Stiles just let himself be dragged into the apartment, unsure of what was happening.

Peter pulled him towards the couch and Stiles sat down without a struggle, remembering what he’d been like on the full moon. Peter made a happy rumbling noise and climbed onto the couch after him, pulling Stiles back against his chest and hooking his chin over Stiles’ shoulder.

Stiles relaxed into his arms, enjoying the warmth as he waited for the werewolf to relax a bit. It took a while for the protective arms around him to loosen and for the low rumbling to stop. Stiles waited another moment before twisting his neck so he could look up at Peter. The man had his eyes closed, taking in deep, slow breathes.

“You ok?” Stiles asked.

“I’m significantly better now,” Peter replied slowly. His eyes remained closed.

“They’re still glowing aren’t they?” Stiles asked with a raised eyebrow. Peter finally opened his glowing blue eyes and gave Stiles a glare.

“I’m fairly certain this is your fault,” the man informed him with a scowl, “Don’t look so smug.”

“So, probably the ritual right?”

“I would suspect so, it feels like the full moon, but almost worse,” Peter grumbled, burying his nose in Stiles’ neck. “I had to fight myself to remain in the house. Control hasn’t taken this much effort since I was a pup.”

“I’m sorry?” Stiles offered uncertainly, “I was a bit over energized earlier, but it’s mostly worn off now. I figured something similar must have happened to you.”

Peter gave a non-committal hum, eyes slipping closed again.

“Are you… falling asleep?”

“Side effect.”

“Sure it is, whatever you have to tell yourself,” Stiles said with a chuckled. “You go to sleep, I’m still be around when you wake up.”

“Promise?” Peter’s voice was getting groggy and slow. Yeah, it probably was a side effect.

“Promise. We need to talk about this thing anyway because I’m not actually going to dive in head first. Also, we’re going to be discussing boundaries and acceptable levels of possessiveness.”

Peter gave a grunt that Stiles decided to take as acceptance. Carefully, not wanting to disturb the werewolf, Stiles reached for his phone and began typing.

To Dad: Peter’s having a funny reaction to swapping back. I’m gonna stay and watch him. Not sure when I’ll be home.

From Dad: You are not eighteen.

To Dad: OMG! He’s asleep! He literally just conked out.

From Dad: And I expect him over for a proper dinner as you’re boyfriend.

From Dad: And I told Tara.

To Dad: OMG! WHY?!

From Dad: Behave.

Stiles groaned. Seriously. His dad thought they were way further along than they actually thought. Peter may be hot, but Stiles was pretty much used to being surrounded by supermodels at this point. Besides, there was the whole trust issue to work on. Sure, they trusted each other with their lives, but Stiles wasn’t letting this go anywhere if they didn’t cut down on the secrets between them.

That might be tricky given they were the most naturally secretive of the entire pack.

Either way, they’d work it out or they wouldn’t, no sense trying to predict the future. That way led to madness.

Peter woke up to his apartment smelling like Stiles and cooking food.

His wolf rumbled happily, thought fortunately it was internal this time, unlike it had been for the rest of the day. He’d spent the whole morning forcing himself to stay inside the apartment, knowing his wolf would latch onto Stiles if he came across the teen.

He hadn’t expected Stiles to show up outside his apartment though; or for him to accept the wolf’s manhandling with such ease. Curiously Peter got up and headed for the kitchen, where Stiles was expertly preparing what looked like steak. It smelt mouth-watering. Stiles looked up and smiled as Peter entered the room. He looked comfortable and welcoming.

This was certainly something Peter could get used to.

Stiles’ eyes narrowed.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he said warningly, “I’m not going to be anyone’s house wife. You’re getting special treatment because your suffering a magical backlash, understand?”

“Of course, Stiles,” Peter replied evenly. “I certainly appreciate it.”

“Good, set the table.”

It was all very domestic, Peter thought absently. He pointedly ignored how pleased his wolf was about that domesticity. Stiles laid the steak in front of Peter, rare and only lightly seasoned. Peter forced himself to pick up the cutlery, and simply raised an eyebrow at Stiles’ amused smirk.

“So, we should probably talk about things,” Stiles said after a moment, eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. It was kind of hilarious knowing how well Stiles could cook.

“I suppose so,” Peter agreed, not even bothering to play dumb. Stiles certainly wouldn’t appreciate it.

“Cool, so, I don’t care about the whole werewolf ‘mate’ thing,” Stiles said firmly, “Like, I get its important and whatever, but I’m not just going to date you because it. If we’re doing this, we do it seriously. With dates, and cuddling, and maybe flowers, I haven’t decided if it’s worth the ribbing yet. Also, we’re not keeping it a secret, because secrets make bad relationships, and Dad already knows anyway, because apparently you’re unsubtle. He wants to come over for a proper ‘boyfriend’ dinner by the way. I’m not entirely sure what that means, but he’ll probably clean his gun at some point, or flash his badge. Oh, and you’re forbidden to use greasy food to bribe him, I will find out.”

Apparently Stiles had put more thought into this than Peter had thought. That should not make him as pleased as it did.

“I’m fairly certain it won’t come as a surprise to Derek, either, though I’d like to contest it being my fault,” he replied easily, watching the tension ease out of Stiles’ shoulders as he spoke, “And I assure you I was always going to provide ‘dates and cuddling’, though I’ll leave the flower decision to you.”

“Cool,” Stiles said with a slight sigh, “That’s fine then. Are there any, uh, werewolf dating traditions I should be taking into consideration?”

“Actually, you’ve covered most of the bases already,” Peter said with a smirk, glancing pointedly at his plate. Stiles took a moment before he rolled his eyes.

“Oh right, providing and protecting,” the teen said lightly, “So, that’s it?”

“Mostly, yes, there’s also scenting, but that will fall under you’re requirement of ‘cuddling’.”

“Cuddling is great and anyone who says otherwise has been deprived.”

“I’m sure you’re right.”

“Good,” Stiles said with a sharp nod. Peter finished his steak with a fond smile. While doing so he couldn’t help but notice the way Stiles seemed to be internally debating something. He was fidgeting, tapping the table and glancing around uncertainly.

“Are you all right with this Stiles?” Peter asked with a slight frown. Stiles had seemed quite pleased with the discussion, amused and a little excited. He definitely smelt wary now though.

“Course,” the boy replied immediately, “So, uh, where does the importance of the mate sit? Like, with regards to the pack?”

“That’s mostly dependant on the pack and the couple,” Peter said slowly, “Though it’s generally accepted that a wolf will put their mate first, putting their protection first. Given our pack, and my position in it, I’m fairly certain it would be excused, if not outright accepted, that you came first unquestioningly. Why do you ask?”

“I killed Gerard.”

Peter blinked. Of everything he had thought might come out of Stiles’ mouth, that hadn’t been among them. He’d expected doubts, conditions and rules. He had not expected a confession.

Stiles wouldn’t look at him, eyes focused firmly on the table.

I killed Gerard

Well, it certainly explained a lot.

Peter stood, moved around the table and pulled Stiles’ chair out so he could stand directly in front of the teen. When Stiles still didn’t look up Peter gently tilted his head back so he was looking up, directly into his eyes.

“I would very much like to kiss you,” he told the teen seriously.

The corner of Stiles’ lips ticked up.

“A murder confession should not be a turn on, dude.” Stiles informed him, Peter just raised an eyebrow and Stiles gave a little shrug, “Yeah, sure, go for it.”

Peter leant down and gently pressed their lips together, enjoying the little noise Stiles’ made in the back of his throat. He pulled back with a smirk and Stiles blinked slowly for a moment before his lips drew down.

“Are you serious?” he demanded.

“Don’t we have a magic circle to investigate?” Peter asked casually.

“Ha, Deaton beat us to it. Scott texted me while you were sleeping and said Deaton had noticed a disturbance, found a ‘weird twisty tree’ and we should avoid the area for a while. I’ll got ward the place later so Deaton can’t screw with it, pretty sure I know a ward that will make everyone who’s seen it forget where it is.”

“Except you?”

“Well, except whoever’s there when I carve the wards. You can come if you want, probably a good idea to have someone know where my secret magic tree is.”

“I’d be delighted.”

“Great, now kiss me properly.”

“Hmmm, give me some incentive.”

“What?” Stiles demanded, tone still more frustrated than furious. Peter just hummed again and leant forward to nuzzle into his mate’s neck.

“Give me some incentive,” the werewolf repeated, enjoying the way Stiles shivered at the breath on his neck.

“Murder is not an acceptable kink,” Stiles informed him, “And that was a purely between us confession that you won’t even hint at in front of the pack.”

“Of course not,” Peter agreed easily. “I would never dream of revealing such scandalous things to the pack. Much better I be your sole confidant.”

“God, you’re such an egomaniac,” Stiles huffed, then he made a high pitched noise as Peter began sucking on his neck, “Fine, geez, God. I tracked down where they’d put Gerard a few weeks after he left. I, oh, I signed him out claiming to be his daughter’s son. I buried him in a forest out of town.”

“You missed a part,” Peter said, lips still against Stiles’ neck, blunt human teeth grazing along the forming hickey.

“Jesus! Fine! Wolfsbane!” Stiles snapped, “God damn it, Peter, I want a kiss.”

Peter had paused though, and leant away to look at Stiles’ face as he asked “What was that?”

“Wolfsbane, ok? I poisoned him with wolfsbane and I severed his head so he couldn’t come back.”

“How poetic,” Peter said lightly, grinning down at Stiles, “Such a clever boy.”

Stiles made an aggravated noise and reached up to force Peter towards him, pulling him into a ‘proper’ kiss. Peter went easily, eagerly. He knew Stiles was capable of amazing things, but hearing he’d already started removing threats to the pack, and without even consulting an Alpha?

Delicious.

Their second kiss was deep and heated. It might have gone further if the sudden blaring of police sirens had made Stiles jerk back with wide eyes darting towards the door. The siren continued on to fade into the distance and Stiles heaved a sigh.

“I’ll assume your father set some limitations?” Peter asked amusedly.

“No sex till I’m eighteen,” Stiles said with a huff.

“Well, that’s less than a year away, I’m sure we can wait,” Peter said easily, smirking at Stiles’ horrified look. “I wouldn’t want to upset your father now, would I?”

“God, I hate you,” Stiles groaned as Peter pulled away, cleaning the table.

“Come now, don’t we have a tree to ward or some such business?”

“No, you’re not invited anymore. You’re mean.”

“Oh, I’m sure I can make it up to you darling.”

“And you’re pet names suck.”

“I’m sure.”

“I hate you.”

“I rather suspect you don’t.”

“…Dick.”

The pack reacted rather predictably to the news. Lydia was deeply unimpressed, but declared that Stiles’ idiocy wasn’t her problem, and at least he’d have a better wardrobe. Allison carefully didn’t comment, probably at least in part because of the shaky ground she was already on with the majority of the werewolves. Jackson didn’t care. Erica, Isaac and Boyd all said they were happy for Stiles, but Erica told Peter she’d slaughter him if he heart her Batman, Isaac pointedly reminded him he knew a lot about burying bodies, and Boyd, actually Boyd mostly just stood with his arms crossed, nodding in agreement.

It was surprisingly effective intimidation.

Derek just sighed his resignation and told Peter he wouldn’t stop the Betas.

Scott threw a small fit, and the pack was treated to Scott and Stiles yelling at each other, loudly about a variety of issues. It somehow ended in the pair hugging and assuring each other they were still ‘bros’.

Peter still wasn’t sure what had happened.

“By the way, I wanted to ask about looking into Gerard,” Derek said, once everyone had left to return to their respective homes.

“I already have, nephew, can’t have these things running around unchecked,” Peter replied amiably. Derek watched him for a long moment, waiting, before he finally sighed.

“And what did you find out?”

“Oh, Gerard’s dead,” Peter said casually, “Apparently the place he was left had really bad security. Someone came around looking for a bit of vengeance or some such. You know my contacts aren’t always the most forthcoming with details, but I can say it appears they were very effective.”

“I don’t need details, as long as he’s out of the picture.”

“Then you have nothing left to worry about.”

“Don’t look so smug, it’s creepy. You get the same look thinking about murder as you do looking at Stiles.”

“Derek!” Isaac shrieked. “God the images. I did not need that.”

Peter smirked, Derek just sighed. Sometimes he hated his life.