Chapter Text
(illustration of Peter as Red Phoenix, by @Blanze)
Chapter 5: Restless
A soul-piercing scream woke Stiles and only when he sat hunched over on his bed, chest heaving from how hard he was breathing, did he realize he was the one who had screamed. He reached up with a shaky hand to rub his face, just to wince when he touched his scrapped-over, but still achingly bruised, cheek. Injuries sucked, he hated having to heal them at human pace.
With a look at his alarm clock did he realize that it was three AM. Yeah, that sounded about right. If he was lucky and got to sleep at all, he got two consecutive hours of sleep before the nightmares. Dragging himself out of bed, he went for a hot shower first. Ever since the Nogitsune, he'd been running much colder already but nightmares in particular made him feel like he was freezing, since the experience of nightmares alone was a painful reminder of the possession.
After his shower, he went to make himself coffee. Thankfully, his body didn't actually need as much sleep anymore since the Nogitsune either, so even when nightmares kept him up for nights on end, he was physically fine. Two weeks into this, a normal human might experience some serious mental and physical side-effects to the little amount of sleep he was getting.
While drinking his coffee, he stared at his fridge and the pictures on it. He missed the Hale Pack. A lot. And it was becoming harder and harder to dodge especially Erica, but even Derek was getting pushy (in his own grumpy way). Usually, when awake at 3AM because he couldn't fall asleep again, he'd just make his way to the Hale House, use his key to get in and then things would be fine. There were so many people with different professions and thus different time tables in the house, chances were he'd either find Boyd up early to get ready for work, or Erica and Cora coming home from clubbing. Sometimes he'd sit in Peter's office and have the lawyer rehearse the latest closing argument he was fretting over that was keeping him awake. And then he'd go to Allison's old room slash the guest room, crash and get maybe two more hours of sleep.
For obvious reasons could he no longer go to the Hales. Of course had Chris offered for him to go with them after the hospital, because they were good people and they cared and they must have been relieved that he wasn't dead. But now that it had a couple days to settle in, they must have come to terms with the fact that it was Stiles' fault, that Stiles had put Allison in danger, that Allison could have died because of Stiles. So he'd rather avoid them than face their disappointment or worse yet, their outright rejection. It was something that had been hanging over his head like a Damocles sword ever since he'd gotten more attached and involved with the Hale Pack.
Stiles was dangerous. He knew that better than anyone else. Sure, his pack knew that he was powerful and that he was strong, they didn't underestimate him in a fight. But he didn't think any of them truly understood that Stiles was dangerous. He might have mastered the void inside him, but it was still there. He still carried darkness, death, destruction. The dark kitsune fed on strife and chaos, hungered for blood. Stiles satiated it with his vigilante activities, but he knew it was still there.
And even beyond the Black Fox, Stiles was still also Little Red. Just because they did good as heroes didn't make their lives safe or happy. He knew that sooner or later, either of his lives would end any relationship he had outside his pack, because he'd put these innocent people in danger. So he wasn't surprised that he'd lose the Hale Pack, he had always known he'd lose them. The fact that it was his civilian identity that did him in, that was the real surprise.
Heaving a tired sigh, Stiles dragged himself back to his bed, knowing he wouldn't find sleep.
/break\
Ten days. Peter had been patient and understanding for ten days. When Christopher insisted they shouldn't push, that Stiles needed time to heal, Peter had accepted it. Hadn't pushed. After all, Allison confirmed that Stiles was still on sick leave. So they should be proud of their boy for taking care of himself instead of doing the usual Stiles thing: Ignoring his own needs and pushing his body to the limit regardless. Which meant that yes, at first Peter had found it easy to let it go.
He'd been absolutely horrified when they'd gotten the video of Kate torturing Stiles and that feeling had only grown when they got to the warehouse and found their boy, bruised, beaten and barely conscious. As a born wolf, Peter was acutely aware of human healing limitations. It was his greatest nightmare, since three of the most important people in his life were human.
However, Stiles needing to heal and Stiles avoiding them were two very different things. Peter didn't want to believe that, of course, but it had been ten days now since Stiles and Allison got released from the hospital and they hadn't seen their boy since. Stiles hadn't gone more than three days between visiting their home ever since he'd first been invited in. They'd given him a week, thinking he was healing and needed time to come to terms with the massive trauma he'd just suffered, before they came knocking at his door. Just to have Commissioner Stilinski open it, not moving out of the way, telling them that Stiles was resting. Their well-wishes were appreciated, but they couldn't see Stiles right now. That had happened two more times. It was getting painfully suspicious and Chris? Chris blamed himself. He'd get that exhausted and devastated look on his face, every time he thought about the fact that his sister had kidnapped and tortured their boy.
Ten days were Peter's limit. He couldn't go another day without Stiles and he couldn't go another day with his husband beating himself up, blaming himself for Stiles' avoidance. Peter was certain it had to be something else. Maybe Stiles simply wasn't comfortable among people right now, being kidnapped and tortured had to have mental repercussions too, after all. But whatever it was, Peter needed to hear it from Stiles, needed the reassurance so he could genuinely sooth Chris.
He took a deep breath and knocked on Stiles' door. The fact that he'd stood before this door more often in the past week than he had in the past year was telling too. Stiles didn't like visitors, he preferred to visit. When he wasn't already at the Hale House, they were more likely to find him at Allison and Scott's, at his office at the Beacon, or even at the Silver Moon café that Boyd and Erica ran, sitting in his favorite booth drinking coffee and eating cronuts, than to find him at home.
To avoid another glare from the commissioner, guarding the apartment like a lion his den, Peter had bribed Lydia with shoes to learn the man's schedule so Peter could make sure to visit while Commissioner Stilinski was at work. She's raised an elegant eyebrow at him, accepted the shoes and stated that she was only helping because she agreed that Stiles had been holed up at home long enough now (which was reassuring to hear, because it meant the Hale Pack weren't the only people he wasn't spending time with). Now all he needed was for Stiles to open the door.
When the door opened, Peter's concerns grew. Stiles looked exhausted and wrecked. He had dark shadows beneath his eyes, made more prominent by how pale the boy was. Worse yet were the still visible injuries on him. The black eye that blended into the shadows of sleeplessness beneath, the by now greenish-yellow bruising on his cheek. The worst part were the finger-prints around his throat. Amber eyes were wide and wary as he looked at Peter, near defensive. Peter tilted his head.
"Peter. What are you doing here…?"
"We miss you, darling," Peter smiled. "So I am here to bring you back home with me."
Stiles hunched over a little. "I'm fine, Peter. I just need rest. I'm getting plenty in my own bed."
Furrowing his brows, Peter grasped Stiles by the chin, forcing him to look at the wolf. "I keep being impressed by your ability to lie to a werewolf, sweetheart. But even your perfect control over your heartbeat and breathing doesn't cover up the obvious evidence in your face. You're exhausted."
He was met with a matching frown before Stiles stepped back to free himself from Peter's grasp. Before he could close the door in Peter's face did the Alpha step in. A human couldn't push a wolf. Stiles looked annoyed by that but then turned around to walk into the living room.
"Wrong direction, darling," Peter called out cheerfully, before changing his direction. "You know, Christopher has started thinking you're avoiding him. So be good and come with me so I can reassure my husband that you aren't avoiding him."
Stiles froze minutely. It was barely there, but Peter was watching closely enough to catch it, as well as the brief jump of his pulse. Peter's eyes widened and a pained expression passed over his face.
"Oh," Peter whispered devastated. "You… are avoiding him."
Stiles turned around and looked at him with a strange expression. It took Peter a moment to identify it, because it seemed so out of place considering the conversation. Stiles looked guilty.
"I'm trying to avoid you both. Which is harder when you keep knocking at my door," Stiles glared weakly. "I… I just really didn't need to… Why are you here, Peter?"
"As I said, we miss you," Peter tried not to look like a kicked puppy.
"Why?" Stiles looked so wrecked and confused that all Peter wanted to do was hug him. "I nearly got your daughter killed. She was kidnapped and hurt because of me."
Peter stopped fighting the impulse when realization slammed into him. Wrapping his arms around Stiles, he pulled the boy flush against his chest. Closing his eyes, Peter buried his nose in Stiles' hair, inhaling his scent. For the first time since Stiles had grown close to them had his scent faded in their den and Peter hadn't realized just how much that was affecting him until he had Stiles in his arms and was flooded with the boy's delicious and addictive scent.
"You thought we would blame you for what happened to Allison," Peter whispered heartbroken. "Sweetheart, she barely had some bruising and scratches. You are the one who got seriously injured. And Allison told us why you are so much worse off, because you kept drawing Kate's attention away from Allison and to you. You kept protecting her, darling, how could we blame you."
"I kept provoking her, I knew how dangerous she was but I kept taunting her. It's my fault we got abducted. It's my fault we got hurt. It's my fault," Stiles cracked and started sobbing into Peter's chest, his fingers curling into Peter's shirt. "It's my fault. It's my fault."
Taking shaky breaths, Peter gently rubbed Stiles' back, trying to sooth him while Stiles cried. There was no point in talking to him right now, Stiles wasn't really talking to him, he was working through his own feelings right now. All Peter could do was hold him and try to sooth him.
"Do you know why Christopher thought you're avoiding him?" Peter asked softly once Stiles had stopped crying and calmed down, the boy slowly shaking his head against Peter's chest. "He thought that you were avoiding him because you're blaming him."
"What?" Stiles looked up at him in confusion, red-rimmed eyes wide and pretty.
"You were kidnapped and tortured by Chris' sister," Peter replied. "He thought you couldn't look at him because you blamed him for what his sister did. He… is very used to being blamed for what his family did, darling. And now you got injured because of it."
Stiles looked like he couldn't comprehend what Peter was saying and if Stiles had really thought Peter and Chris were blaming him, that figured. Sighing, Peter smoothed down Stiles' hair and drew him in for another hug. Stiles was taking shaky breaths.
"Okay," Stiles whispered softly. "Okay, take me back to your place."
/break\
Scott and Allison had stayed with them for three days. As hard a time as Chris liked to give Scott, the boy had a good heart and he adored Allison. He even put up with rooming with his in-laws for three days just so Chris could hover close to his daughter after what had happened. She hadn't been seriously injured, she didn't need to stay on bed rest or anything.
Though he got to keep a close eye on his daughter and got his fill of Allison, assuring himself that she was safe and healing, he didn't get to do the same for Stiles. He hadn't seen the boy since Stiles and Allison got released from the hospital. Because Stiles must be blaming Chris for what had happened, because what Argents did was Chris' fault, he was responsible for his family's sins.
"Hello, husband," Peter spoke gently. "I bring bearing gifts. Well. One gift."
Chris looked up when Peter entered the bedroom, his hands on Stiles' shoulders, steering their boy into the room. Chris' heart skipped when he got to lay eyes on Stiles for the first time in ten days. He looked worse for wear and the slowly healing injuries just filled Chris with guilt. He averted his eyes, unable to look at Stiles, with the marks from Kate so evident, especially the hand prints on his throat. She'd nearly killed him, had gleefully near-drowned him over and over again. Chris felt sick.
"I'm sorry Peter made you come here," Chris whispered lowly.
"Peter didn't have to make him come here," Peter sounded smug. "Stiles told me to bring him. After we had a conversation about why he was avoiding you."
Chris' head snapped up again at that, anguish filling his eyes. Peter pushed Stiles further, until the boy's legs hit the bed-frame. Peter gently pushed Stiles down by the shoulders so Stiles was sitting on the bed, right next to Chris. Strangely enough, Stiles looked at him with guilt.
"It's my fault Allison got kidnapped and hurt," Stiles whispered softly, not meeting Chris' eyes. "I didn't… I didn't want to come here because I didn't want you to… to tell me you don't want me here anymore. I didn't want to hear you telling me you're disappointed in me."
Chris had never seen Stiles look this small. That was his chin-up, snarling, defiant brat. First time Chris had seen that look on Stiles' face, he had hopelessly fallen for the boy. This? Small and fragile and unsure? That wasn't his Stiles, his Stiles should never look like that. Chris vowed to do everything in his power to protect Stiles from ever looking like that again.
"I'm not… I'm not blaming you for that, baby," Chris murmured softly, reaching out to pull Stiles close. "I don't blame you. You got hurt, I was so worried about you. Every time I close my eyes, I see that video replaying in my mind, the things my sister did to you. All I wanted was to make sure you're safe, make sure you'll be fine. I'm so sorry for what she did to you, I'm so sorry."
Stiles wrapped his arms around Chris' neck, letting himself be pulled even closer, until the boy was essentially sitting on Chris' lap, sweetly tucking his head beneath Chris' chin. Oh, he hadn't known Stiles would fit that perfectly onto his lap and under his chin like that.
"I don't blame you for what your sister did," Stiles' voice was muffled against Chris' chest. "Shit. I don't even know how you're dealing with all of this, I mean, you thought she was dead and suddenly, she's alive and one of the country's most infamous villains and kidnapped your daughter."
"And you," Chris spoke with emphasis. "Please stop minimizing what happened to you. You were kidnapped too. She hurt you. She nearly killed you, repeatedly. Allison is my daughter and I was so worried about her, but she is fine. And worrying about Allison doesn't mean I can't also worry about you. Worry isn't a limited resource, Stiles. I worried about you too. Still worry about you."
Stiles made a soft noise and seemed to cling onto Chris even tighter. Sometimes, it was easy to forget about Stiles' abandonment issues. The boy's mother had died when he was only eight, his father had fallen into the bottle after, checking out for over a year and leaving Stiles to fend for himself and throw the household alone. Before joining the Blackwood Pack when they were sixteen, Stiles only had Scott, for years Scott had been Stiles' only friend. Stiles was only twenty-seven years old now. He had spent more than half his life practically alone, having people who cared about him and stuck around was still so new to him that he was afraid to lose it again.
"We are not going to drop you or stop caring about you just like that, doll," Chris tried to speak as firm and reassuring as he could. "You are important to us. We, and I don't just mean me and Peter, our whole pack, care deeply for you. You're… Losing you would hurt us all."
He could feel Stiles nodding against him but their boy wasn't speaking. He just clung onto Chris, not moving. Like holding Chris was reassuring him right now that he wasn't being rejected or blamed. Chris held him, gently rubbing Stiles' back to sooth him. Peter had quietly moved to the closet, grabbed clothes, went to the bathroom and got changed before now slipping into bed with Chris. It was late, it had already been late when Peter had left to see Stiles.
"Stiles?" Chris whispered lowly. "You're quiet. You okay? Stiles? Baby?"
He gave Stiles a gentle nudge. The boy's grip had eased off Chris and at the nudge, Stiles tilted over. Peter caught him before Stiles could fall over, leading to Stiles leaning against Peter's chest. The way Peter looked at Stiles with the softest expression melted Chris' heart.
"We're keeping him tonight," Peter declared, not leaving room for arguments. "I haven't gotten to smell his scent in too long. He cried in my arms for twenty minutes, blaming himself for what happened to Allison. I will not move him to the guest room. I don't care about your-"
"I'm not arguing with you, Peter," Chris sighed and then adjusted Stiles a little.
"Wait, you're not?" Peter stared at him surprised.
"She hurt him, Peter," Chris couldn't look away from the bruises around Stiles' neck. "She hurt him, choked him, waterboarded him, beat him. We nearly lost him. He's staying with us."
"Good," Peter smiled softly. "Let's get him out of those jeans though."
Chris raised one eyebrow at him. "Only the jeans, Peter."
"I am not having impure thoughts," Peter huffed offended. "I'm only thinking about his comfort. He needs rest. I mean, he truly does, look at him."
Sighing, Chris traced the dark bag beneath Stiles' uninjured eye. His body needed rest for the physical healing, but blaming himself like that and isolating himself had robbed him of that rest. Chris pressed a kiss to Stiles' forehead before he helped Peter get Stiles out of the jeans. They maneuvered Stiles to lay in the middle of the bed, with Peter and Chris on either side of him. Chris took a moment to appreciate just how perfectly Stiles fit between them.
/break\
Stiles was woken up by the sun tickling his nose, which in itself was strange. He hadn't slept until past dawn since the kidnapping. Probably a while before that. Honestly, he very rarely slept past dawn, if he thought about it more closely. The fox didn't need as much sleep as he used to as a human and his ADHD brain had always liked to latch onto things to occupy himself with instead of sleeping. Wiggling his nose, he rolled over to escape the sun while opening his eyes.
He froze on his back when he caught sight of the large, framed image right opposite the bed. So this was definitely not his bedroom, was his first thought. Because he did not have a picture of himself hanging in his room. It was a clearly expensive print from his Good Kitty shoot. The one where they'd made him drink that absolutely gross potion so he'd temporarily grow cat-ears and a cat-tail. He was sitting on the floor, head tilted up to look into the camera, baring his throat in the process and showing off the red leather collar with the little golden bell attached to it. His eyes were ridiculously big. He'd gotten comments about being 'doe-eyed' before but damn did that particular shot make them pop and the print was so HD, Stiles could count his damn lashes on it. His mouth stood open, pink and shiny and begging for a treat. All he was wearing was an unbuttoned wine-red shirt three sizes too large, falling off one of his shoulders in a tempting manner. It was meant to look like he was wearing the viewer's clothes and begging the viewer for the treat.
So Stiles must have gone home with a fan, then. Wouldn't be the first time, would most likely not be the last time either. It still often happened that werewolves recognized him as Mitch McCall and he had to admit that there was something very intense about sleeping with a fan. Made him feel desired in a way he rarely did. Sighing, he rubbed his face, wondering where he could have met anyone though. He didn't remember going out last night. He hadn't gone out since the kidnapping. He remembered… Peter. Pausing, Stiles took a slow breath and then rolled over.
Right next to him was Peter, peacefully asleep, one arm loosely thrown over Stiles' stomach. Turning his head to the other side, Stiles found Peter's husband. Chris was laying really close to Stiles, now that Stiles had turned toward him. Okay, now Stiles had so many more questions – starting with the giant print hanging opposite their marital bed. He turned so he could stare at the ceiling while having a private freak-out about this realization.
Nobody hung up soft porn shoots in their bedroom for the artistic merit. Especially since this one was highly suggestive. He did have others that were very tame and could easily be shown off, that could be understood as just friends valuing his work. He was wearing a damn collar and begging on his knees to give a blowjob while barely clothed. There was nothing innocent about this shot and it was really hard to find a different interpretation for it being hung up opposite Chris and Peter's bed aside from Chris and Peter wanting him, sexually. Blushing brightly, he rubbed his face with both hands, trying hard not to groan out loud. He hated how much sense this made.
This was why they didn't blame him for what happened to Allison, because they were biased. They wanted him and that want contrasted what they should feel. It also explained why he was in bed with them right now. He remembered crying himself to sleep in Chris' arms. They could have easily carried him into the guest room, instead he was in their bed, laying between the married couple. It even explained why Peter had come to pick him up yesterday. He wasn't pack, they didn't have any obligation toward him but just a couple days of keeping to himself worried them enough that they had come to drag him back to their place. Because for some reason they decided to want him.
For only a brief moment, Stiles allowed himself a sense of happy euphoria because Chris and Peter wanted him?! Holy shit! The hottest and kindest men actually wanted him. And then he let disappointment and reality wash over him, because he couldn't have them.
Chris and Peter were kind and normal. His civilian life had already endangered their daughter just because she was his best friend, but beyond being an investigative journalist, he was also a hero and a vigilante. His life was layers of dangerous secrets. He couldn't be with someone and keep such huge secrets from them, but he also definitely couldn't tell them. They were already in enough danger being close to him, but he couldn't endanger them by being with them. All he'd do was put them in danger, hurt them and maybe even get them killed. He couldn't do that to them.
He'd wanted Chris and Peter for so long now, but knowing they wanted him made it… so much worse than just pining for them. How could he possibly make them realize what a bad idea this was without outright rejecting them? Because outright rejecting them was something he couldn't do. He wanted them too much and too desperately to convincingly tell them he didn't want them.
Ever since they became heroes, Stiles only had had one serious relationship and that had been with Deucalion. Because he knew all of Stiles' secrets already and he uniquely understood it too, he'd been a hero himself, had been a villain. He'd made Stiles feel understood when Stiles had felt largely lost and Stiles also knew he didn't need to worry about Deucalion, the man knew how to defend himself. Chris and Peter? Chris and Peter were good and they weren't a part of this world. If a villain took them to hurt Stiles, then Stiles would lose them for good.
"You're thinking very loudly, darling," Peter's voice was gentle and so was his touch.
Peter's thumb was running circles on Stiles' stomach. This didn't feel platonic, waking up in bed with the both of them, being hugged so possessively. Somehow now that he knew, everything felt different. Every interaction they had in the past was running through his mind and in this light, they looked so different. Every time they insisted on him staying the night. The damn petnames. He'd thought they were just teasing him. Did… they actually mean them? Unironically?
"Still thinking too loudly," Peter pointed out, drawing Stiles close. "Are you still blaming yourself? As me and Christopher told you last night, we don't blame you for what happened. You shouldn't blame yourself either. It wasn't your fault. And we're just happy that you're safe."
The gentle touch turned more… possessive. Peter's hand curled around Stiles' hip and drew him closer, pulling him against Peter's chest so Stiles' head was tucked under the Alpha's chin. Oh. Peter really wanted him. This wasn't just the usual tactile nature of wolves coming through. Stiles swallowed hard at the realization of just how glaringly there their affection was. His fingers curled into Peter's shirt and he tucked his face into the wolf's neck, relishing in the moment. There was movement behind him and then a firm body pressing against his back.
"What happened wasn't your fault," Chris reiterated once more. "You were hurt in this."
Chris' arms wound around Stiles' midsection and hugged him tight, as though the former hunter wanted to reassure himself that Stiles was here and safe. Stiles allowed himself to close his eyes and enjoy the comfort and this moment. It would be all he'd get, because he couldn't have them.
/break\
Stiles had stayed with the Hale Pack for breakfast and a puppy pile with the betas who had apparently missed him and worried about him too. It warmed his heart. But after, he more or less fled back home to freak out about the feelings realization in private. He got to freak out until the early evening when knocking at his door disturbed him halfway into his second tub of ice-cream.
"Hey, Stiles," Allison's smile was all dimples. "Dad called me and suggested we need to talk."
Because Stiles hadn't just been avoiding the Hale Pack. Ducking his head, he turned away from his friend. She sighed and followed him into the living room. Stiles sat down on his couch and she sat down next to him, looking at him so concerned.
"So he's right," Allison whispered. "You really are blaming yourself?"
"Of course I'm blaming myself, it was my fault," Stiles turned to glare at a point next to her.
"How was my presumed-dead aunt turned supervillain kidnapping us both your fault? I'm an adult, Stiles, I make my own choices. I chose this job, I chose to work with you, I chose to dig into the Blue Jaguar too. I could be taking food pictures for a different kind of magazine if I wanted, but that's not how I want to use my skills. I love our job, I love what we do, what we do together."
Stiles bit his lips and hunched in on himself. "I… I know that. I'm not… I just… But she took us because I kept taunting her. It was my fault that we were taking, it happened to hurt me. You were hurt to hurt me. You were taken because of me. I put you in danger. You got hurt because of me. He hurt you because of me. He nearly killed you because of me."
"She," Allison interrupted his increasingly faster rambling spiral.
Stiles' head snapped up and he stared at her. "What."
"You said 'he'. But Kate hurt me. She did," Allison pointed out gently.
Furrowing his brows, Stiles nodded slowly. "Right. Yeah. Kate."
"Oh," Allison's face fell when she put the pieces together. "When you told my dads you blame yourself for me getting hurt, it's not just about Kate, it's about the Nogitsune, isn't it? What happened triggered you, being helpless, forced to watch me getting hurt, blaming yourself for it."
Stiles froze and stared at her wide-eyed. It was true that his thoughts had spiraled and circled around the Nogitsune since the kidnapping. The water-boarding, the ice-cold water reminded him of the bone-chilling cold of the possession. The nightmares about Kate's torture made him wake up screaming, the same way the Nogitsune had. And… And yes, Allison.
The Nogitsune had nearly killed Allison. Allison had nearly died because of Stiles.
"I think…" Stiles' voice was shaky. "I think you might be right."
He turned to look at his hands and saw that they were shaking even more than his voice. He bit his lip hard. He'd only been made to feel like a victim three times in his life, now. Even when he was losing in a fight, it was still a fight. He was fighting back, holding his own. He didn't see himself as a victim, even when he got hurt far worse than what Kate had done to him. But Kate? Kate had made him a victim, made him helpless. He balled his hands into fits, clawing into his jeans.
"Neither was your fault, Stiles," Allison walked over to him to pull him into a tight hug. "You were possessed, you had no control over what the demon did. And I was fighting to save you. Even if it had killed me, that was a sacrifice I was willing to make to save my best friend. But I didn't die. I was badly injured and it took a long time to heal, but it healed. I'm fine. And what Kate did? She barely touched me, the worst of my injuries were from our car accident before the kidnapping. I'm fine, Stiles. I'm fine and what happened wasn't your fault."
Stiles started shaking with tears as he buried himself in her shoulder. Hadn't he cried enough already? Shouldn't he be all dried up? But this was… even more. He'd thought he left the Nogitsune behind, now that he claimed the fox's powers. He'd mastered it, he was in control, it was his now. How could the demon still have a hold of him, because of the pain he put Stiles through?
/break\
"Stiles," Kali raised an eyebrow at him. "You look like shit."
"I'm aware," Stiles gave her a pointed look. "Is… Is Aiden home?"
Kali opened the Blackwood Pack House's door wide and stepped aside. He followed her into the living room where the twins were sitting on the couch playing video games with Ennis. Kali walked behind the couch, gently running her clawed fingers along her mate's shoulders. Ennis turned away from the screen to watch her and after exchanging a look with her, he put his controller down and left the room together with her. It was sometimes scary how well she could still read him.
"What's up, Stiles?" Ethan frowned at him after pausing the game.
Stiles walked over to his former pack mates and squeezed in between them. He pulled his legs up against his chest and wrapped his arms around his knees. The twins exchanged a look behind Stiles' back while he considered what to say. They gave him time.
"When Kate had me and Allison," Stiles whispered softly. "It… I think… It reminded me of… the Nogitsune. The helplessness and blaming myself for someone I care about getting hurt."
He turned to look at Aiden with guilt and he could see the realization set in. The wolf heaved a sigh and wrapped an arm around Stiles' shoulders to draw him in closer. Two people had nearly died trying to save Stiles from the Nogitsune. Both Allison and Aiden had spent months in the hospital recovering afterward, nearly losing their lives because of Stiles.
"Both Allison and I decided ourselves to fight that battle, to save you, because we care about you," Aiden sighed. "I thought you worked through that guilt."
"So did I," Stiles laughed, a wet and tired sound. "The thing about shit like that is that it'll resurface and hit you again, even when you think you moved past it."
"We know that," Ethan chuckled, but it wasn't a happy sound.
Sometimes, Stiles forgot just how exactly the twins had ended up joining Deuc's pack. They'd grown up in the abusive pack of their uncle's, after their parents had died. Treated as the runts of the litter, they had suffered the abuse from their uncle and Alpha, as well as the rest of the pack, before they'd gotten out of there and joined the Blackwood Pack. He couldn't imagine what it must be like to grow up abused not just by their caretaker but by their whole pack. It was something they always carried with them and he knew it factored into their trust issues.
"C'mon," Aiden cleared his throat and handed Stiles Ennis' abandoned controller. "Up for a game?"
Stiles smiled thinly and accepted the distraction. For the next two hours, the three of them played against each other, hurling insults and not thinking about the past, until they got interrupted by Ennis calling them for dinner. It felt good, it felt nearly like it used to when he had still been a part of their pack, to be eating with them, to have Braeden and Kali argue over dinner, Marin trying to mediate between her wife and Kali. For a blind man, Deucalion was really good at intensely staring at people though. He could feel the man's undivided attention on him, quietly asking why Stiles was here and what was on his mind. Stiles opted to ignore him and just revel in the feeling of family that the pack gave him, while also enjoying Ennis' amazing cooking. Tonight he was getting a break.