Archive of Our Own ^beta

“I’m not going to let you kill my friends.”

There. He’d done it. He’d said it. He was there and he’d said it and he couldn't take it back. Not that he wanted to take it back, but he hadn’t wanted to do it in the first place! Fuck, Stiles didn’t want to confront the Alpha twins, but then they’d shown up at his school, and they’d gone after Lydia and Danny, who was nothing but a goddamn human in this godforsaken town of death and despair.

And that… that was too far. Going after Danny was too far. Stiles could handle the Alphas going after his pack. Hell, he expected it—they all did, even if Stiles could never have imagined that being associated with a pack of werewolves would bring him so much pain—but Danny wasn’t connected. He wasn’t a part of their pack and as far as Stiles knew, he didn’t even know about the supernatural.

But the twins had still gone after him in whatever sick game they were playing, and Stiles was done with it.

That was why Stiles was standing in front of the two of them, who were sitting casually on one of the picnic tables outside of the cafeteria like they were nothing more than your everyday high schoolers, and Stiles was standing in front of them, his posture rigid and his hands shoved into his pockets so they wouldn’t be able to see how badly they were shaking as he stared them down.

God, it was a good thing he’d perfected his false bravado years ago. He studiously ignored the way werewolves could smell his emotions, and focused on every shred of ruthless anger that was keeping him going.

Let them drown in that. Maybe they wouldn’t be able to smell how terrified he was.

“Not gonna let us?” hot, cocky twin number one said. He raised an eyebrow. A stupid, perfect eyebrow that was on his stupid, perfect face.

God, they must get their eyebrows waxed.

Douchebags.

“He said he wasn’t gonna let us,” equally hot and even cockier twin number two said. His face was also stupid and perfect.

Stiles’ hands were still shaking.

“I’m not,” he repeated. His voice cracked, but he didn’t care. Stiles was so fucking tired of being terrified. “Because if you and yours try to hurt my friends again, I’m going to fill you up with so many wolfsbane bullets, your Alpha spark isn’t going to mean shit.”

The cockier of the two—Aiden; Stiles hated that they had such normal names—flashed his eyes Alpha red. A little bead of fear climbed up his throat, remembering just how terrified he’d been of Peter Hale. How helpless he’d been when an Alpha werewolf, feral and hellbent on revenge, had terrorized him and his friends.

Never again.

Stiles wasn’t ever going to let that happen again.

As subtly as he could, Stiles grabbed the small, silver blade that was tucked into his pocket. He shot his eyes over to the side as if he was looking at something behind them, and when Aiden’s eyes followed his, he shot forward and slammed the sharpened blade into the picnic table.

Right through the meat of Aiden’s hand.

“Stay away from Danny. He has nothing to do with the supernatural. If you’re going to fuck with the pack, fuck with the pack, but don’t pull humans into your stupid power plays,” Stiles hissed, keeping his voice low and his eyes directly on Ethan.

He knew that Aiden was still a threat, but he had a knife through his hand and he just didn’t care. If they wanted to kill him, they would have done that already. Stiles wasn’t an idiot, and he knew that two teenage Alphas weren’t leading whatever crusade had brought the Alpha pack to Beacon Hills. Seeing as how they hadn’t done anything yet, Stiles figured it was pretty safe to say that they had orders not to eat them up.

Or whatever it was that big bad evil Alphas did with their human prey.

“I’m not going to let you kill my friends,” Stiles said again, low and steady despite the way his heart was roaring in his ears, so loud that it was the only thing he could hear. Aiden was still staring at him, his eyes Alpha red and terrifying, but Stiles was so fucking exhausted he didn’t even care.

Then, he pried his numb fingers off the knife’s hilt, and walked away.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

Stiles' voice was heavy with surprise and he kept a hand on the doorframe even as he leaned back in shock.

What the fuck. What the fuck, he thought, even more emphatically as he stared down the two boys that were standing on his front porch like they had any right to be there.

They didn't. Stiles had no idea what the hell was going on. He did not know why the Alpha twins were standing on his front porch, half an hour after school had ended. Especially not when Stiles had threatened them during lunch. Which wasn’t his brightest plan, but he was so goddamn done with people he cared about—hell, even people he just peripherally knew!—getting hurt or dying.

But now they were here.

What the fuck.

“We need help with chem,” Aiden said, and then he just… walked in.

Or, he tried to. Instead, he walked directly into a mountain ash barrier. Because Stiles was a teenage boy, he snorted out a laugh at the absolutely ridiculous expression on Aiden’s face. Then he scowled when Ethan laughed too.

“Sorry about him,” Ethan said quietly from a respectful distance of three steps back from Stiles’ front door. “I got all the good genes in the womb.”

“Hey!” Aiden called, turning to scowl at his twin.

Ethan shrugged, and then focused on Stiles with a smile that, because he was a teenage boy, sort of made his knees weak.

Douchebags!

“We hadn’t started chemistry at our old school, and then we lost a bit of time to… travelling. You try to hide it in class, but it’s obvious you’re smart. Aiden had asked Lydia for help, but she wasn't very good at explaining things to us.” Ethan shrugged, like what he was saying wasn’t changing Stiles’ worldview one earnest word at a time. “So, we were kinda hoping you might be willing to help us out so Harrison would stop making fun of us in class. It makes me feel like shit, which makes Aiden mad.”

“Yeah, ‘cause that asshole fucking sucks,” Aiden growled, and then stopped when Ethan stepped up and pressed a hand to his back.

Huh.

That was…

He didn’t know what that was.

“I know we didn’t get off on the right foot, and you have no reason to invite us into your den, but… I really want to graduate high school one day,” Ethan admitted the last part in a whisper so low Stiles almost didn’t hear him. When he focused back on the boy's face, he looked young. As young as he was. As young as they all were.

Fuck.

“Fuck,” Stiles repeated, because he was nothing if not susceptible to cute boys who needed his help. Then again for good measure, he added, “Fuck.”

He shouldn't let them inside. He shouldn’t. But they were both just looking at him with their dumb faces and their dumb, hopeful expressions and Stiles… he was just so fucking tired of everything being a goddamn fight to the death.

He broke the mountain ash line with a roll of his eyes.

“Whoa,” Aiden breathed, looking way more impressed than Stiles would have expected. “Nice work.”

Which… what. “Uh, thank you?” he asked, unsure.

Then, the evil, no-good Alpha twins who were really just teenagers who might have been as lost as he was, walked into his house.

What the fuck!

“Hey, this is yours.”

When Stiles managed to pull his eyes up from his history textbook—he had homework too, after all—Aiden was… smiling at him. Stiles narrowed his eyes. It wasn’t his signature smirk. Not that they’d been around long enough to have a signature anything, but Aiden kinda always looked like a douchebag since all he ever did was smirk. 

This wasn’t that.

This wasn’t something that Stiles had ever seen on Aiden’s face before. It wasn’t something that he’d ever seen on Ethan’s face either, who usually wore an expression that was more charming grin than dickish smirk.

But this was… this was a smile.

Stiles looked down at the proffered hand and realized that Aiden was holding out the thin dagger that Stiles had driven through his hand at lunch. It was clean, probably cleaner than it’d been when Stiles had stabbed Aiden, and the metal caught the overhead light in Stiles’ dining room.

Because that’s where they were. Once Stiles had let them into the house, he’d stalked back into the kitchen where he’d been getting a snack, and had dished out more pretzels and brought the whole container of hummus to the table. The twins had made themselves at home without even asking, sitting at the table and getting out different books.

Which had, at first, been kinda confusing until Stiles remembered that Aiden had said he needed help with chemistry. Once he’d realized that hadn’t just been a ploy to get inside and murder him, Stiles had begrudgingly gotten out his own bag and started unloading his homework.

Now they were all sitting at this dining room table doing homework. He couldn’t remember the last time that he’d done homework with someone, and to be sitting at this kitchen table with the Alpha twins… it was weird. It was really weird. It was weird for so many more reasons than Stiles even wanted to think about.

And now, weirdest of them all, Aiden was handing him back his knife.

“Uh, thank you?” Stiles said, feeling wrongfooted.

This was not what he’d expected when he woke up that morning determined to tell off the twins. He’d packed his dagger—it was technically a throwing knife, with a thin handle made of the same silver as the main part of the blade—sorta expecting that he’d chicken out.

Only he hadn’t. He’d gone through with telling the twins off, he’d driven his knife through Aiden’s hand, and then he’d walked off like a badass. And now the twins were at his house. Aiden was giving him his knife back.

They were doing homework together.

“Eh,” Aiden said with a shrug, once Stiles had the knife again. “Ethan made me clean it.”

“Uh… thank you?” Stiles told Ethan slowly, wondering if this was all some sort of ploy to gain his trust.

“No problem, Sti,” Ethan said with a wink.

Stiles scrunched up his face and said, immediately, “I don’t like that.”

“What about baby?” Ethan asked, with his stupid, perfect grin, and Stiles blushed furiously as he looked down at his textbook and ignored his stupid, perfect face.

Homework. They were doing homework. Ethan wasn’t flirting. Even if he was flirting, it was probably because Stiles had told them to stay away from Danny. It wasn’t like he was interested in Stiles. Nope. He wasn’t interested in Stiles and Stiles wasn’t interested in him because he was technically still the enemy even if he was adorable when he was frowning over chemistry theories he didn’t understand.

Nope.

Nope, he was not thinking about that at all.

“Is this right?” Aiden asked him, and the crease between his eyebrows was… cute. It was really cute, and Stiles focused very studiously on the question Aiden was pointing at.

He wasn’t thinking about either of them!

Instead, he read over Aiden’s answer twice to make sure it was right and felt a smile creep across his face as he looked up. “Yeah! That’s exactly it, Aiden.”

“Really?” the other boy asked with the same smile from earlier stretched across his face.

“Yeah! You nailed the formula on this one,” Stiles told him, and then startled out a laugh when Aiden whooped and fist bumped the air.

“Fuck yes!” he crowed, turning bright eyes on Stiles. “Thank you!”

“Hey, you did the work,” Stiles said seriously, frowning when Aiden ducked his head.

“Only ‘cause you were able to explain it to me,” the boy muttered, eyes on the table.

His ears were pink.

Stiles was not staring.

“It wasn’t that hard,” Stiles told him seriously. “You grasped it quickly.”

“Yeah, but you were the one who changed up how the textbook was teaching it,” Ethan said. Then, he slid his own worksheet across the table. “Is mine right?”

Stiles read over Ethan’s answer twice, too, before he looked up with a smile.

It was the easiest smile he’d worn in months.

“I’m losing my mind.”

“What’s that, kiddo?” Dad’s voice broke through Stiles’ thoughts and pulled him from his task. He let out a very manly yelp—which was not a scream—as he whirled around, his heart jackrabbiting in his chest as he looked at his dad.

Who was sitting at the kitchen table. There was a coffee cup sitting in front of him, steam still floating from the rim. When he quickly looked over, the last few dredges of coffee were still in the pot.

And now his dad was laughing at him.

“When the hell did you get down here?” Stiles asked shrilly, crossing his arms when his dad didn’t immediately stop laughing and apologize for being rude.

“About ten minutes ago,” his dad told him, taking a steady sip of his coffee. “You were in the zone, so I didn't want to bother you.”

“Huh,” Stiles said, eyes narrowed.

He had been in the zone. Not that he was really doing a lot, but he was making lunch. Well, he was making three lunches. Not that he needed three lunches—even if he was a growing boy who was growing—but because there were two werewolves who didn’t eat. And since Aiden and Ethan were Alphas, Stiles was pretty sure they should be eating. Only they never ate at lunch, and the last three days they’d shown up at his house after school and immediately bee-lined to whatever snack Stiles was eating.

They were probably hungry. They were probably hungry, and Stiles was losing his mind because he was making three sandwiches using the leftover roast he’d made last night. The same roast that both twins had tried to sneak bites of when they’d been studying, even though Stiles had told them that it was still raw.

Turning around and looking back down at the buns he had laid out on the counter, he added more meat to two of the sandwiches.

They were all growing boys who were growing, but two of them were also werewolves. So.

Extra meat couldn’t hurt, right?

“So, why’re you losing your mind?” Dad asked, startling Stiles into spinning back around.

Right, he was having a conversation. He shouldn’t be thinking about the twins. He especially shouldn’t be thinking about how the twins were growing boys who needed more protein. Nope, he should be focused on his dad, who had a patient expression on his face that Stiles hadn’t seen in too long.

It wasn’t Dad’s fault, either. Well, it wasn’t all Dad’s fault, since Stiles was the one who had dug out this uncrossable chasm of lies.

But… he was tired. He was so tired. Hell, that was why he’d confronted the twins in the first place! He was tired of being scared and he was tired of lying to his dad about the shit show his life had become just to keep him safe.

And this wasn’t something he needed to lie about.

Not completely.

So Stiles took a deep breath, and told his dad as much of the truth as he could.

“I… I think I made some new friends,” Stiles said quietly. The words felt like ash in his mouth, flavoured with betrayal.

“Really?” Dad asked, his eyebrows shooting up his forehead. Before Stiles could snap something sarcastic to hide just how much his dad’s disbelief hurt, the older man was rising from his chair and crossing the kitchen quickly.

From the safety of his dad’s embrace, he heard him mutter, “I’m so proud of you, kiddo.”

“Oh,” Stiles whispered. His heart did something funny, like it was crumbling apart even though it was being held together by his dad’s arms.

“I know you and Scott haven’t been hanging out that much, and I just… I’m so glad you’re making new friends, kid,” Dad told him quietly, the words pressed into his hair. Dad wasn’t really taller than him, but with Stiles curled up to fit better in his embrace, Dad’s chin was brushing Stiles’ forehead as he spoke.

It made him feel small and safe, and he revelled in it, knowing just how much distance he’d forced between them over the last year.

Maybe that was why Stiles said what he said next. Maybe it was because his dad was holding him like he used to before Stiles started lying to protect him. Maybe it was because Stiles had just missed him.

Whatever it was, it gave Stiles the strength to tell the truth.

“Uhm… they’re also really cute,” Stiles whispered, keeping his eyes shut tight.

“They?” Dad asked quietly, slowly, like he was parsing out the word and trying to figure out what lie Stiles was going to spin this time.

It was why he said, “Uh, yeah. They’re twins. Boys. Boy twins.”

Dad went rigid, and Stiles was about to pull away when he heard a rough, “Fuck, kiddo,” followed by the shakiest breath he’d ever seen his dad let out. “Fuck, I’m so sorry I brushed you off.”

Stiles, whose eyes absolutely were not stinging, hugged his dad tighter. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not,” his dad said fiercely, his arms so tight around Stiles’ shoulders they hurt. “I should’ve listened to you.”

“I… I was lying a lot,” Stiles admitted lowly.

“You were,” Dad said, and then just as sure, “But you wouldn’t lie about something like this.”

“No,” Stiles agreed. “I—thank you.”

Dad pulled back, but he kept his hands cupped around Stiles’ shoulders. “You’re my son, kiddo. Nothing is ever going to change how much I love you. Not all the bullshit lying that we’re still going to talk about one day, and not this. Especially not this.”

Stiles nodded, ignoring the way a few tears streaked down his cheek as his dad stared at him with his own glassy eyes. He wasn’t sure what to say, wasn’t sure what he could say, considering it felt like his voice would crumble out of him if he even tried to speak. So instead he stared up into his dad’s eyes, pale blue and so unlike his own, and wondered how he could be so lucky.

And then Dad grinned in a way that meant nothing but terror, and Stiles narrowed his eyes.

“Now, did you say twins?” Dad asked, and Stiles?

Stiles groaned.

“Oh hey, I have something for you.”

“What’s wrong?” Aiden asked him, the words tumbling out of his throat in a growl. Stiles swayed back in shock, stumbling a step when he lost his footing in the grass. “What happened?”

“You smelt sad this morning,” Ethan murmured, his eyes intense and heavy as he stared at him. “We wanted to ask, but you were with them.”

“Them”, in this case, likely referred to Scott and Isaac, who had cornered Stiles at the front steps to tell him about a new video game that they’d bought and played the night before. At some point, they’d gotten close. Closer than Stiles had even realized, since they were marathoning new video games together.

Which was something he tried not to think about.

“Oh,” he breathed, surprised. Scott hadn’t noticed. Isaac might have, but he hadn’t said anything.

The twins noticed. They were saying something.

Stiles didn’t know what to do with that.

They were both staring at him, so Stiles figured he should tell them something. Hell, Aiden was more stubborn than he was, which was both impressive and aggravating in equal measure.

Especially when it came to homework help.

Taking a deep breath, he admitted, “I… came out to my dad.”

“What did he do?” Aiden asked, his voice slurred around his fangs.

“Whoa,” Stiles breathed, quickly climbing onto the picnic table and leaning forward. “Put the canines away, dude! We’re outside!”

“Stiles,” Ethan said, his voice low and deep in a way that definitely didn’t help Stiles’ heart rate slow down. “Tell us what happened.”

“Nothing happened!” Stiles cried, throwing his arms out. “I told Dad that I liked guys, and he gave me a really good hug, and I… I’m just sad.”

“Why?” Ethan asked him quietly. “Did he hurt you?”

Stiles opened his mouth, but Aiden cut him off. “Stiles, tell us the truth.” 

Stiles was about to say something blas é , something to change the topic and laugh it off, when Ethan’s hand covered his own. His fingers, warm and soft, wrapped around Stiles’ palm, and before he could even think about it, he was curling his fingers to hold Ethan’s hand.

He didn’t want to keep lying.

Not to anyone.

“I… I’m upset because I have to lie to him all the time! I can’t tell him about the stupid supernatural and how it’s all but ruined my fucking life because if he doesn’t know, he won’t go searching for answers and he’ll be safe! He’ll be safe, but I have to lie to him every fucking day about all of this stupid bullshit that I shouldn’t even be involved in, and it sucks! It sucks!” Stiles shouted, his chest heaving. And then, “it sucks,” he whispered, his voice breaking.

“I… I lost my mom pretty young, and it’s been just me and him for so long. He was my best friend, even when Scott was my best friend too, but ever since Scott was bitten it’s been one lie after the other and my dad’s the Sheriff. He knows that I’m lying but he’s the Sheriff, so if he knew about this horrible, fucked up world full of monsters, he wouldn’t stop until he knew everything.”

“I can’t risk him like that,” he finally finished, taking another deep breath that didn’t do anything to ease the aching in his chest.

Neither of them said anything. Stiles was fine with it. He preferred it, because he didn’t know what they could say. This was a mess he’d made himself and it was a mess he didn’t know how to get himself out of.

After a moment of silence that Stiles appreciated more than he could say, Aiden sucked in a sharp breath.

“Our uncle was the Alpha,” Aiden said quietly. Stiles, who was already looking at Ethan, saw the other boy’s eyes go wide as they flashed red when he turned to look at his brother. “He wasn’t a kind man. We’ve always known that. He beat around his wife. The whole pack knew, but she was a were. Bruises didn’t last, not even from the Alpha. Not long enough, anyway.”

“I came out when I was eleven,” Aiden continued, his voice flat. “I’m bi. I’ve always known that. Hell, I knew it before Ethan even realized he was gay. I… I thought that if I came out as bi first, Ethan would be okay. Our Uncle could get used to the idea of me liking girls and guys, so when Ethan came out, it wouldn’t be that big of a deal.”

“It didn't matter,” Ethan whispered. “He still tried to beat the gay out of both of us.”

“For four years,” Aiden added. “And that wasn’t all he did. He was a fucking psycho, but then Deucalion showed up. He saw us… practicing in a warehouse near our house. He told us he could give us power. That he could get us away from our Uncle as long as we listened to him.”

“We would have done anything,” Ethan muttered. His eyes were glassy. “He was harder on Aiden. Meaner. It was… personal, in a way that it wasn’t with me. He’d always known I was nothing but a fairy, but Aiden…”

“It was bad, and we wanted out. Deucalion promised us power, and all we had to do was take it.” 

Both of their eyes flared Alpha red, but Ethan’s were still glassy with tears and Aiden’s lips were pale from how tightly they were pressed together. It wasn’t intimidating. The light in their eyes wasn’t terrifying.

It… it was heartbreaking.

“I—” Stiles cut himself off. He had no idea what the hell he was supposed to say to that. God, no wonder they’d joined Deucalion’s crusade. “I’m so sorry.”

Ethan shrugged. He took a deep breath, and then he seemed to push away whatever darkness they’d both just fallen into. It was impressive, but it still made Stiles’ heart ache with how rehearsed it looked.

In a tone of voice that was considerably lighter than it’d been a second ago, Ethan asked, “You said you had something for us?”

“Oh,” Stiles breathed. He squeezed Ethan’s hand tightly, and pressed his foot forward so the toe of his shoe was pressing into Aiden’s ankle. Then, he used his free hand to lift his bag onto the picnic table. “I made you lunch.”

“You made us lunch?” Ethan asked quietly, a note of something Stiles couldn’t recognize in his voice.

Still, he clung to it. It was better than the despair that had soaked his voice only minutes ago.

“Yeah!” he exclaimed, something similar to a smile crossing his lips when he pulled out the cooler they used for camping. “Two roast sandwiches on rye with extra mustard for Ethan, ‘cause he likes sour candies and mustard is kinda sour, and lots of mayo for Aiden, ‘cause he’s super white.”

Stiles was expecting laughter. Maybe even a snort or two. But instead, the twins just… stared at him. Their gazes were heavy. Heavier than Stiles knew what to do with.

So he did what he always did when he was nervous, and he rambled.

“Is this okay?” Stiles asked quietly. “I didn’t wanna overstep or anything? I’m not saying you need to eat but I think you’re probably hungry? You two never eat at school but you’re always hungry when you come over. Like, seriously hungry, you’re eating all my snacks, and we had leftover roast! I know how badly you guys wanted some before you had to leave, I just thought…”

“It’s fuckin’ fantastic, babe,” Aiden said. His voice was still rough, and even now it was more of a growl than anything else.

It was really, really, really hot.

Stiles didn’t blush.

Okay, he did. He totally did, but it was okay. It was totally okay, because Ethan shifted his hand to lace their fingers together more comfortably, and Aiden snagged Stiles’ foot between both of his own, and they…

They ate lunch together. Sitting at their picnic table, the bustle of Beacon Hills High sounding out around them but not quite touching their little circle, they ate lunch together.

It felt like something important.

Like it was a new beginning.

“I don’t want them there.”

Stiles snorted. He didn’t mean to, and it definitely wasn’t funny, but it was slipping out before he could stop himself. “We can’t exactly kick them out of school, Scotty.”

Scott rolled his eyes. They were spread out around the McCall’s kitchen, their homework cluttering the table. Lacrosse practice had ended an hour ago, and Stiles had been on his way to the jeep when Scott had thrown an arm over his shoulder and asked him if he wanted to hang out.

Considering Scott was still his best friend despite… everything that had happened between them all, Stiles had agreed.

Then, he’d realized he didn’t have either of the twins’ phone numbers, and had almost cancelled.

But it had been so long since the last time he’d gotten any quality Scott time that didn’t include an unwanted side of Isaac that he’d gone along with it. Now, they were in the McCall house, their homework spread out around them since Scott was still on his new year new me kick and insisted that they had to get their homework done before they could play any video games.

Which was good for Scotty and all, but seriously a bummer for him.

“We could try,” Scott said, staring down at his textbook.

“What are you going to do? Tell the principal that you don’t like them?” Stiles asked, rolling his eyes. Still, he tried not to sound too annoyed.

“I could tell the principal that they kidnapped Erica and Boyd!”

Stiles stared. Scott was grinning. Stiles narrowed his eyes. “Scott, I can’t even list all the reasons why that's a terrible idea.”

“I know,” Scott muttered. He was obviously frustrated, his brow doing the crinkling thing it did whenever there was something happening he didn’t understand.

“I can’t believe we still haven’t heard anything about Erica and Boyd,” Stiles muttered, trying to steer the conversation away from the twins. “You said that Peter was able to see into Isaac’s memories, right?”

“Yeah,” Scott agreed. He turned the page of the textbook he was reading, and read for a minute before he said anything else. “He saw Boyd. And he… he remembers seeing Erica’s body.”

“Fuck,” Stiles whispered, his chest going tight.

A month into the school year, and they were still gone. Every single day that passed without sight of them upped the chances that they were already dead. Stiles tried not thinking about it, but thinking about things was sorta his specialty, and every single time he thought of Erica and Boyd, he remembered them being in that basement. He remembered what they looked like as they begged Gerard and his men to stop. How they howled when the hunters connected him to the same electrical current keeping their shift at bay.

Scott’s nose scrunched up, but he didn’t say anything.

“I just don’t understand what they’re doing!” Scott cried suddenly, throwing out his arms in a move that was much more characteristic of Stiles. “They’re clearly just using you for something.”

“I… what?” Stiles asked, his mind going blank as he tried to process what Scott had just said.

“The twins,” Scott told him, like he was an idiot. “They’re obviously just getting close to you to get information out of you or something!”

Stiles actually did feel like an idiot when all he managed to do was repeat, “What?”

“Oh c’mon, you have to see it! I told Isaac that’s why you were going along with it and being so nice to them; obviously, you’re just trying to get information out of them like they’re trying to do to you.”

A swooping feeling of dread filled his stomach, but it wasn’t because Stiles hadn’t ever actually thought to use the twins for information.

“Scott… I don’t think that’s what they’re doing,” Stiles said slowly, thinking back over the nights they spent huddled in the Stilinski kitchen or spread out throughout his living room. Most nights they did homework—with Stiles having to help them less and less with chem as the days went on—or just… hanging out. They ate snacks. They played video games. Sometimes, they just talked.

It was easy hanging out with the twins. They actually got on really well, seeing as Aiden was just as much of a sarcastic dick as Stiles while Ethan hid a heart of gold under a lot of false bravado.

It was easy in a way nothing in his life was anymore.

“Maybe at first,” Stiles relented when it looked like Scott was going to say something that would probably be rude. “I’m sure that’s what they were doing at first, but… we’re kinda friends now.”

“What the hell, Stiles!” Scott demanded, a flush reddening his ears that meant he was properly angry. “You can’t be friends with them!”

“Why not?” Stiles asked, but he was worried he already knew.

“They’re trying to kill us!” Scott shouted. Stiles winced, and started packing up his bag.

He wasn’t going to let Scott yell at him. Not over this.

Not when it was so fucking hypocritical.

“Interesting,” Stiles said quietly, but his voice shook with the effort to keep it that way.

“It’s not interesting, Stiles! They’re dangerous. They’re a threat, and you shouldn't be friends with them!”

Stiles let silence ring out when Scott finally took a breath. He knew that he needed to say something. He knew that he shouldn’t just leave, even though he finally had everything in his bag. He waited. Waited to see if his best friend was going to realize what he was saying and how hypocritical it sounded after everything that they’d been through.

Nothing happened. Stiles counted to ninety, and then blew out a breath.

“What about Allison?” he asked. One final chance.

“What do you mean? Allison doesn’t have anything to do with this!” Scott said, and Stiles had known him long enough to know that the confusion and outrage splashed across his face were both genuine.

There was so much more he could say. So much more that he wanted to say, but he didn’t think it would mean anything. Because this was Scott, in a way. He’d always been so willfully blind about things he didn’t want to see or didn’t understand. It was always Stiles who had to face reality so Scott was able to live out whatever fantasy world he wanted.

Stiles who figured out that Scott was a werewolf when his friend didn’t want to question it. Stiles who figured out how to keep Scott from hurting anyone when his friend was still ignoring it. Stiles who had told Scott to stay away from the Argents when his friend wouldn’t take his head out of Allison’s ass.

And nothing was different. Despite everything that had happened last year, despite the way that Allison had gone off the rails after Victoria had fallen to their stupid, ridiculous Code, Scott was still panting after Allison, completely blind to the consequences and his own hypocrisy.

He tried for a smile, but he knew it fell flat. He said, “Exactly, Scott,” and then he left.

“We have something that belongs to you.”

Stiles was gaping. He was simply gaping. His mouth was hanging open and his eyes were wide and he was gaping like a goddamn fish. Because what else was he supposed to do? Was he supposed to do anything? Surely the twins weren’t expecting some sort of appropriate response, were they? Was there an appropriate response?

He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know—

“You’re gonna catch flies, Batman,” Erica Reyes said, because she was standing on his front porch in a pair of ripped jeans and a dirty leather jacket, hair messy and wild and all around looking like she’d seen better days.

And Vernon Boyd was standing just a step behind her, covered in dirt and looking thinner than Stiles remembered.

The mountain ash barrier broke with barely a thought as Stiles threw himself through the doorway. He grabbed Erica first, but he was quick to shoot out his hand and drag Boyd close so he could hug them both at the same time. Erica felt frail in his arms but he held her tightly, pressing their bodies together to make sure that she was real.

Boyd finally got with the program and moved to wrap himself around the both of them. Stiles didn’t let go of Erica, but he let one hand reach behind Boyd’s back so he could cup the taller boy’s neck. His skin was clammy and damp, and a shiver wracked through Boyd hard enough that Stiles felt it pass.

Then, he started to cry.

“I’m so sorry,” he choked, his heart thundering in his ears, “so much happened that night. So fucking much happened and I just assumed that the Argents would let you go, that Chris would get you out like he got me out but then you weren’t around, you weren’t around anywhere and I didn’t know what to do or where you had gone, and Derek thought that you’d just ran away and why wouldn’t you? I would have run away too if I could’ve but you were gone and I—”

“It’s okay,” Boyd rumbled, his voice low and soothing. “Stiles, it’s okay.”

It wasn’t. It wouldn’t ever be okay, not after everything they’d all been through, but he wasn't going to say that. Not now. Not when they were back.

“How did you…” Stiles started, his face still hidden in Erica’s neck.

Erica giggled. Immediately, Stiles tensed. He pulled back, and felt nothing but fear at the look of pure joy dashed across Erica’s voice. “Your boys got us out,” she sang,

Which. That didn’t make sense. That didn’t make any sense, nope. None at all. No sense was being made! How weird. What a weird thing to say that Stiles totally didn’t understand and wasn’t letting himself understand because then it would be way too true.

To express that, he slowly said, “My…” until Erica snorted.

“The twins,” Erica said, with a waggle of her eyebrows that implied things Stiles had been trying not to think about. “Ya know, your boys. They… they got us out.”

The last few words were muttered with a heaviness that made his chest ache, so he pulled her back in and leaned the two of them against Boyd’s sturdy chest. They stunk like body odour and dirty clothes, but they were alive. They were back and they were alive and Stiles… Stiles let out a breath that he’d been holding all summer.

As he looked past Erica’s leather jacket and wild, blonde hair, the secure weight of Boyd’s arm along his shoulders, he found Aiden and Ethan watching him with Alpha red eyes. This time, the light in their gaze didn’t bring him fear. 

No. No, under the heavy, watchful gaze of the twins, Stiles felt safe.

“My window is not a goddamn door!”

“I feel like that’s something you’ve said before, and I don’t like that,” Ethan said calmly, climbing over his windowsill as if that was at all normal.

“I really don’t fuckin’ like it,” Aiden grumbled, crawling right in after Ethan like they owned the place.

They did not. They really did not, and even though they’d been coming over most nights after school, they always left before Stiles’ dad got home. Stiles had no idea where they ran off to, but most nights Aiden would make some dumb quip, and Ethan would thank him for his help with chemistry, and then they’d disappear.

Stiles never saw them until lunch the next day.

This was… Stiles didn’t know what this was.

“What is going on?” he asked, as Aiden tossed himself onto Stiles’ bed while Ethan huffed at his brother, pulled off his shoes, and then toed his own off by the door. “What are you doing in my room?”

“You ask so many questions,” Aiden told him. Then, he crossed his arms behind his head, and Stiles… had a moment. Because there was a boy on his bed. A hot boy on his bed. A hot boy that he might even like on his bed. “You should just go with the flow, babe.”

In a very embarrassing voice, Stiles croaked, “I’m pretty sure this is breaking and entering and my dad’s the Sheriff!”

Ethan laughed. Stiles whirled around to find him leafing through the papers on Stiles’ desk.

“Hey!” he squeaked, lunging forward and grabbing his notebook.

It… was maybe, sorta, something like a Grimore. Not that Stiles was magic. At least, not really. He didn’t think he was that magical, but Deaton had said he needed to use a Spark and then he’d made something out of nothing, stretching the mountain ash barrier way further than it should have been able to go.

So he had something. Maybe it was magic. Maybe it was whatever a Spark was. Whatever it was, he also had wolfsbane and mistletoe and guns and knives, and there was always so much going on that Stiles found it sorta helped to start writing some of it out. It was part journal, part werewolf-y knowledge, and it was not something he needed the twins looking at.

“What are you two doing here?” Stiles asked, clutching the notebook to his chest as he took a few steps back so he could see them both.

Ethan shrugged. “We wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“What?” Stiles asked. 

Because that didn’t compute. They weren’t friends. Or. Well. Maybe they weren't friends? Stiles wasn’t totally sure where they were on the whole friend thing, but he figured they shouldn't be friends with them since they were evil Alphas.

Which made him sound like Scott, so he winced and tried that again.

He wanted to be friends, because they weren’t evil Alphas. They’d brought him Erica and Boyd. And Cora Hale—not that they’d brought her to Stiles, but they’d apparently shown her where Derek was hiding out after they’d snuck all three captives out of the bank the Alphas had been using as a prison.

So maybe they weren’t evil. And maybe they weren’t friends, but… maybe they could be?

Friends, Stiles told himself sharply, as Ethan leaned against his desk in a way that stretched his t-shirt over his chest.

“It seemed like you three needed some time alone,” Aiden explained. It didn’t explain anything. “We waited for them to leave.”

“What?” Stiles asked again.

Because this didn’t make any sense. Yes, Aiden and Ethan had delivered Erica and Boyd to his door in the strangest turn of events ever, but they weren’t friends. Right? They… did they want to be friends with him too?

Before Stiles could ask again, Aiden cleared his throat.

“So what was that about the Argents?” he asked, a growl slipping into his tone that totally did nothing to Stiles physically. Nope. Nothing.

“What?” he asked for the third time, but this time his voice cracked.

Ethan was there a second later, hovering in his peripheral. He was close enough that Stiles could feel his supernatural heat. He wanted him to come closer. Neither of them moved.

“You mentioned the Argents’ basement,” Ethan said softly. Slowly, the other boy reached out as if he was going to touch, and Stiles lifted his hand to lace their fingers together without even realizing what he was doing.

“Oh,” he breathed, his heart rate kicking up. “That.”

“That,” Ethan repeated. “If that is something you want to talk to us about, we’re here for you. Whenever you’re ready, if you ever are, you can tell us.”

“Why?” Stiles whispered, his fingers flexing around Ethan’s hand as something big and ugly unfurled in his chest.

“Where else would we be?” Aiden asked from the bed, but it was missing his usual bite of sarcasm.

And that. That was too much.

“I don’t know!” Stiles cried.

And he didn’t know. He didn’t know and he hated it. He hated not knowing when that was what he was good at. He was the one who saw the patterns and connected the dots and there was something about the way that Aiden and Ethan had so effortlessly inserted themselves into his life over the last few weeks that Stiles just didn’t understand.

The worst part was that maybe he did. Maybe he did know, but Stiles wasn’t sure if he was ready to acknowledge it. Because if he admitted that he did know why the twins were there, why they had threaded themselves through his life so thoroughly, then he’d have to deal with it.

He didn’t want to deal with it. He couldn’t .

“I still don’t understand what you’re both doing in my room!” Stiles finally snapped, feeling flustered and awkward and confused, all tangled together in a shitty combination that he hated.

“We don’t have anywhere else to go,” Aiden told him simply, and that…

Stiles didn’t know what that was.

Well, he did. Sorta. He could put it together, after all, and from what he was putting together, he realized that the Alphas hadn’t let Erica, Boyd and Cora go. No. No, the twins had broken them out of captivity, against the orders of the Alpha pack’s leader, and now they had nowhere to go.

Holy shit.

Holy shit, that meant something. That had to mean something. Right? That felt like something that absolutely had to mean something, that it meant all the things that Stiles wasn’t thinking about because he absolutely could not deal with all of them right now. Not with everything going on.

Stiles looked at his bed. He looked at Ethan. He squeezed the other boy's hand. He looked back at his bed. He did not look at the way Aiden was lounging on his mattress. He looked at Ethan.

“Please, Sti?” Ethan whispered, and Stiles folded like a soggy piece of cardboard.

“My bed’s probably big enough for all of us,” he muttered, keeping his eyes firmly on the ground and ignoring the way his cheeks felt like they were burning. Which probably meant that his face was red and blotchy and gross, but he wasn’t going to take it back.

They didn’t have anywhere else for them to sleep. There was his bed, Dad’s bed, and a single shitty couch that Stiles hadn’t been able to stand sleeping on for like six years. If they were staying, it would have to be in his room.

In his bed.

“Oh, babe, this is gonna be the best night of your life,” Aiden simpered, because he was the most ridiculous person ever.

Stiles immediately started choking.

“Because we’re warm!” Ethan said loudly, sending his brother a dirty look. Stiles was still coughing. “We run warm and it’s getting colder out and there’s nothing better than a cold room and a warm blanket.”

“Oh yeah,” Aiden said, his stupid smirk firmly in place. “We sure are warm, baby.”

Oh god. What the hell was Stiles getting himself into?

“Dude, what the hell is going on?”

Scott’s voice was too loud in the crowded hallway. Stiles sent him a glare, only to be met with the stubborn set of Scott’s jaw. Stiles huffed, looking back into his locker and making sure that he had the books he needed for first period. Ignoring Scott didn’t normally work, but there was a first time for everything, right?

Wrong.

“Stiles, you can’t keep ignoring me!” Scott demanded. Loudly. Way too loudly for the way that they were still in a crowded hallway.

“I sure as shit can,” Stiles muttered under his breath. “This isn’t the time or place, Scott.”

“Well you won’t answer my calls!” Scott whined.

Stiles rolled his eyes. “You called me twice. It’s been a week.”

Scott huffed, and then he slammed Stiles’ locker closed. “We need to talk.”

Then, Scott grabbed his wrist and started dragging him through the hall. People parted like the red freaking sea, since this was high school and Scott was being very loud and very aggressive. He cursed under his breath even as he tried to rip his arm away, but Scott was using a super uncomfortable amount of wolfy strength and Stiles couldn’t break his grip.

Scowling, he followed Scott past a few classrooms before he finally saw an empty one.

“In here,” Stiles snapped, pivoting on his heel and ignoring the twinge of pain in his shoulder when he jerked Scott to follow him instead.

Once the door was shut behind them, he whirled around. “What the actual fuck, Scott? You can’t just kidnap me like that!”

“I didn’t do that!” Scott said, his voice bordering on a freaking whine.

“Uhm, you dragged me here against my will. That’s literally one step below kidnapping, buddy.”

Scott huffed. Stiles was used to the way Scott acted when he was tired of Stiles being over the top, but he was pretty sure he wasn’t being anything right now. Scott was the one who’d accosted him in the hallway and dragged him off!

But Scott had always been blind to his own faults.

When another ten seconds passed without Scott saying anything, he rolled his eyes.

“Okay, I’m here, Scott. You have me. What the hell do you want?” Stiles demanded. There was a pressure headache building behind his left eye, and he just… he didn’t want to be doing this.

“Last week you were freaking out just because I said you shouldn’t be friends with the twins, then you ignored me for a whole week, and now Erica and Boyd are just back!” Scott hissed… somewhat quietly. “Derek said that his sister came back but wouldn’t tell him what was going on! And now he’s going crazy. He just kicked Isaac out of the loft like he wouldn’t be homeless otherwise!”

Stiles stared. And stared. Because… there wasn’t actually a question in there. Stiles played back what Scott had said, and nope. No questions. Not even really any accusations, just statements that Stiles had no idea how to respond to.

“I have no idea what I’m supposed to say to any of that,” Stiles admitted, shrugging his shoulders when Scott did nothing but shoot him an incredulous look.

“What do you mean? What the hell is going on!” Scott demanded as if that was a question that was any clearer.

“How am I supposed to know!” Stiles hissed back. “You literally just said that I haven’t spoken to you. I don’t even—wait, is Isaac okay?”

‘Cause Stiles knew what happened with Mr. Lahey. Maybe not all of it, but he knew that Isaac’s dad was a huge piece of shit. Stiles’ dad had been called out for more wellness checks than he could hide from Stiles, who’d always been too nosy for his own good.

But Mr. Lahey had been smart enough that, no matter how much his dad wanted to, he hadn’t ever been able to pull him in for anything more than a night in the drunk tank.

If Derek had kicked him out…

“Yeah. Yeah, he told me that Cora just showed up at the loft. And things were fine at first, but then Derek was a huge douchebag to Isaac! He kicked him out even though Derek said he’d take him in after all that stuff went down with Mr. Lahey, but it’s okay ‘cause he came over and talked to my mom and he’s going to stay with us for a little bit—” “Good, that’s good.” “—but that isn’t the point! We got into a fight with the twins during the track run, but you’re still hanging all over them!”

“I’m what?” Stiles asked, legitimately shocked.

“And Erica and Boyd are back but they won’t talk to us and Isaac said they hadn’t gone to see Derek, either!” Scott said angrily. Which, considering the fact that Scott didn’t like Derek, didn’t make much sense to him. “They’re ignoring Isaac too, which is just rude!”

“I… you’re annoyed that they aren’t talking to you?” Stiles asked slowly.

“Yeah! I mean, we spent all that time looking for them!”

“Uh, no? Derek and Isaac, sure, but you only started looking for them recently? Once Allison was involved with that weird bruise.”

“That’s not true!” Scott protested, which was just. Something. It was just something.

“Alright, Scott,” Stiles said tiredly, his shoulders slumping. “Look, I don’t know what you want from me.”

“I want you to stop hanging around the twins! They’re evil, Stiles! All the Alphas are evil!”

“Right,” Stiles said, rubbing at his temple. “Alright Scott, tell me something. If the twins are so evil, why were they the ones who released Erica, Boyd and Cora?”

Silence. Very, very gratifying silence that Stiles allowed himself to revel in. Then he realized that revelling in Scott’s stunned silence made him sound like a cheap horror movie villain, so he stopped revelling and instead just waited for his friend to catch up.

“I…” Scott started, but nothing else came out.

And then he was saved by the cavalry, thank god.

Erica and Boyd sauntered into the room in clean leather jackets. Stiles hadn’t seen them since Friday night, but he knew that they’d spent the weekend with their families. It was good to see them, and something tight unfurled from his chest, something that had been choking him for months.

They were safe. Gerard hadn’t killed them. The Alphas hadn’t killed them. They were safe.

And, they were crowding around him like guard dogs.

“Back off, Scott,” Boyd growled quietly. Stiles shivered, ‘cause apparently he had a thing for werewolves being all werewolf-y that he definitely needed to work through as soon as possible.

Erica pressed into his side, and it felt right to lift his arm and tuck her under his shoulder. “We don’t have anything to say to you or Derek, so we haven’t said anything. I’m sure even you can understand that.”

“I…” Scott seemed to realize he was being insulted without understanding how he was being insulted, which was actually an expression that Stiles had seen a number of times over the years. Eventually, he seemed to give up thinking through a response, and said, “Isn’t Derek your Alpha?”

Boyd snorted, but it was Erica who said, “Please. Derek can barely keep himself alive. We put our faith in him once, and it almost got us killed. Multiple times.”

“But you shouldn’t just abandon him!” Scott cried. Which didn’t really make any sense, since Stiles was pretty sure Scott didn’t even like Derek.

“Like how he abandoned Isaac?” Boyd asked quietly. He shifted closer, and Stiles felt familial warmth bloom through his belly when their arms brushed together.

Being as subtle as he could, he leaned into Boyd’s side.

“Look, Scott, you don’t have all the facts,” Stiles said tiredly, already hating that he had to explain this. “The twins aren’t the evil masterminds you think they are. The others? Yeah, they all fucking suck. But the twins are just teenagers who’ve made mistakes.”

“But—”

“What, is your Disney princess the only one with a free pass to cut us up?” Erica asked snidely.

As Scott’s face went red with anger, Stiles made a note to bake her cookies.

“Scott, do you realize you’ve never asked me about the twins? Or why I was hanging out with them? Do you really think I’d be spending any time with them if I believed they were actually evil, rabid murderers trying to kill all of us?” Stiles asked. When Scott didn’t answer, he blew out a breath. “Right. Right, okay, we’re done here.”

Then, for a second time, his impeccable timing came through. The warning bell for first period rang, and Stiles left with Erica and Boyd in tow.

He didn’t have anything else to say.

“I’m not attracted to you.”

“What?” Stiles hissed, turning around to glare at Boyd as their math teacher droned on about SIN. “What are you talking about?”

Boyd raised an eyebrow and growled under his breath.

Stiles’ entire face burned. He was undoubtedly bright red.

“Oh my god, I hate you!” he whispered. “It’s a natural reaction! I can’t control it!”

Boyd’s other eyebrow joined his first. His lips did a thing that was very judgmental.

“I hate you,” he muttered darkly, glad that they were sitting in the back corner of the class and most people were too used to his behaviour to pay them any attention. “I don’t know why anyone thinks you’re nice, you—“

“Mr. Stilinski, is there a problem?” their teacher asked loudly.

A few students snickered.

Stiles shot Boyd one last dirty look before he turned back around.

Ugh, what a secret asshole.

“He’s a douche noodle.”

Stiles snorted into his hand even as he looked up at Aiden. The twin was sitting across from him, his eyes bright where they were focused on Stiles. His gaze was always so damn heavy.

“He’s also my best friend,” Stiles said, even if it felt hollow.

“Sometimes you outgrow friendships, but that doesn’t diminish what they meant to you,” Ethan told him calmly. Stiles narrowed his eyes. “He’s also a douche noodle, I’m just the nicer twin.”

Aiden snorted, but didn’t contest it since it was pretty true. Stiles shrugged, and then thought, fuck it. Scott already seemed to think that he’d taken up with the enemy, so he leaned into Ethan’s side. When the boy’s arm came up around his shoulders, he tucked even closer and let his head rest against the crease of Ethan’s neck.

God, they were even comfortable.

“That sucked,” Stiles muttered.

“We can fight him,” Aiden offered, which—

“Did you beat up him and Issac?” Stiles asked, remembering what Scott had said about the track run.

God, they’d found a body on that run. Was that not enough?

Ethan snorted. Aiden shot his brother a dark look. “No,” Aiden said shortly, his eyes on the sandwich Stiles had made for him this morning.

“Did you try?” Stiles asked incredulously.

“No!” Aiden said, but it was so obviously a lie that Stiles let out a peal of laughter. “Hey! There’s no way that they’d get away if I was trying to beat them up! I’m an Alpha!”

“Oh yes,” Stiles gasped between chuckles. “You’re a big bad Alpha.”

“Big and bad enough to beat up your stupid little friends,” Aiden grumbled.

It was adorable. He had no idea what to do with the fact that it was adorable, so he pretended it wasn’t.

Since he was pretending it wasn’t adorable, he reached out and Aiden grabbed his hand. He’d found that Ethan was usually more tactile—or that Ethan just initiated more physical contact between them—but Aiden linked their fingers together comfortably.

“Thank you,” Stiles said quietly, resting his other hand on Ethan’s leg and totally ignoring the fact that he was touching another boy’s thigh. “I… I don’t know. I don’t know what’s going on with Scott. He’s always been kinda single-minded, but he’s usually… well, okay. No, not really. He’s usually pretty self-centred, but it isn’t normally mean-spirited like this.”

Neither of the twins said anything to that, which Stiles was thankful for. There wasn’t really anything they could say, and despite his recent dickly behaviour, Stiles didn’t want to listen to them insult Scott.

Sighing, Stiles grabbed his own sandwich and took a bite, keeping his head against Ethan’s shoulder and his hand in Aiden’s grasp for the rest of lunch.

“What’s a boy like you doing in a place like this?”

Stiles rolled his eyes even as he handed over his bag when Aiden reached for it. The Alpha swung it onto his own shoulder, and Stiles rolled his eyes at the ridiculous act—which totally didn’t make his heart pitter-patter, nope, not at all!

“Really?” Stiles asked, raising an eyebrow. He turned to Ethan, and said, “Control your brother.”

“I’ve done all I can for him over the years,” Ethan said sadly. “I’m afraid he’s lost to us.”

“Hey!” Aiden cried as Stiles and Ethan both started laughing.

They started walking away from the changing rooms, and Stiles bumped his shoulder against Aiden’s even as Ethan grabbed his hand and laced their fingers together. He didn’t say anything about it—just like he didn’t say anything about any of the physical affection the three of them seemed to share so freely, more and more easily each day—and focused on the empty hall ahead of them.

“Thanks for waiting for me,” Stiles said under his breath.

It felt weird to change their routine like this, but Stiles hadn’t been up for Scott trying to accost him after track. It hadn’t happened, thank god, but he’d asked if the twins would mind hanging around for him to be done so he didn’t have to leave the school alone.

Since Stiles had started driving them to school, it made more sense than them walking. Plus, he didn’t really like the idea of the twins just roaming around. He knew that the Alphas were still out there, and Stiles wouldn’t be surprised if they made a move soon.

While he was human, he’d rather be around when that finally happened.

“It’s no problem, babe,” Aiden told him easily. “We got a head start on the next math unit so we can help the puppies.”

Stiles did not melt. He did not melt at all. It would be absolutely ridiculous for him to melt over Aiden referring to Erica and Boyd as puppies, after all, seeing as how they were all sorta friends now that the twins had freed them. Hell, they were all even the same age, so there was nothing adorable about Aiden, an Alpha, calling Erica and Boyd, Betas, puppies.

It wasn’t melt-worthy. Nope. They just did homework together and it wasn’t anything special, therefore Stiles had no reason to—

“Hey, is that Derek?” Stiles asked quietly, reaching out to stop Aiden. Aiden walked right into his hand, and Stiles… absolutely did not grope his belly. Not at all, because that would be weird.

And inappropriate, and Stiles wasn’t ever weird or inappropriate.

Yeah, he didn’t even buy that one.

“Stop that with your face,” Ethan grumbled at his brother, but Stiles didn’t pay it much mind.

“Is that Ms. Blake?” Stiles hissed, his eyes widening when his teacher… looped her arms around Derek’s shoulders in a way that was decidedly not school appropriate.

There was something uneasy crawling up his belly. He didn’t know what it was or why he felt so… gross. It wasn’t like Ms. Blake draping herself against Derek’s chest was anything overtly untoward—or anything Stiles hadn’t imagined doing himself, once or twice—but something felt off. He didn’t know what it was or where it was coming from, but he had to strain his eyes to see down the hallway even though the other two weren’t even all that far.

The weirdest part was that neither of them noticed their little group. They’d been talking as they walked down the hall, and while they had turned a corner, Stiles knew how sound travelled in the hallways. Especially when they were empty. Especially when you were a werewolf.

But Derek hadn’t acknowledged them. Even though he was mostly facing their direction, it was like all of his attention was zeroed in on Ms. Blake. He wrapped his arms around her waist in a hug, and then…

Oh god. Then they started making out. The three of them stayed silent and still as they watched, Stiles’ hand twisting into the fabric of Aiden’s shirt as he tried to just look at the two of them. He could tell that they were holding each other. He could tell that they were making out. But there was something keeping him from actually focusing on what was happening. No matter how long he looked, Stiles couldn’t take in any details.

As he kept trying, a pressure headache built up behind his left eye until it was throbbing so bad he had to close his eyes against the pain.

When he managed to blink his eyes back open, he caught them just… walking away.

“Did you… did you feel that?” Stiles asked quietly, staring at the empty hallway. His headache was fading quickly, but Stiles still scrubbed at his eyes.

Ethan squeezed his hand, and Stiles finally realized that he’d been holding on so tight his fingers were aching from the force of it. “Fuck, sorry, I—”

“Hey, it’s okay, baby,” Ethan whispered, tugging Stiles close with their joined hands when Stiles tried to pull away. “What just happened? You totally zoned out.”

“I don’t… know?” Stiles said quietly, his voice raising at the end like a question.

“We couldn’t hear anything they were saying,” Aiden said, just as quietly.

“Fuck,” Stiles whispered.

He slumped his shoulders as he stared down the empty hall, wondering what the hell this meant for them and knowing it wasn’t going to be anything good.

Fuck.

“I need to know if this is a safe space.”

Aiden snorted. Ethan’s expression turned serious, and he scooted closer to Stiles on the bed. So far, he’d managed to keep his dad from finding out about either of the twins. It was actually pretty easy; the twins had some life-insurance money from the horrific animal attack that killed off most of their family—a fund that Deucalion hadn’t known about—that meant Stiles wasn’t burning through their grocery budget to feed them all, and with the twins' supernatural senses combined with the longer and longer shifts his dad was pulling to deal with the now-federal level serial killer case, they’d been able to keep his dad from finding out they’d both moved into Stiles’ bedroom.

Which was something that Stiles didn’t know what to do with. It had been more than a week since Aiden and Ethan had shown up with Erica and Boyd only to break into his bedroom later that night and ask for a place to stay. More than a week of them bunking together. In Stiles’ room. In Stiles’ bed.

Which was a queen, sure. But a queen-sized bed wasn’t as roomy when there were three teenage boys sharing it. Especially considering that Aiden and Ethan each claimed that they preferred sleeping on a different side of the bed and had quickly delegated Stiles to the middle.

Nope, there wasn’t much space at all on a queen-sized bed when Stiles was stuffed between two very, very hot teenage werewolves.

But that wasn’t what Stiles was thinking about right now. It totally wasn’t what he was thinking about, even though Aiden was sprawled out across his pillows, his feet tucked into Ethan’s lap, who was sitting with his legs crossed next to Stiles at the end of the bed. They had been studying, but then Stiles had started thinking about everything that was going on and everything he was worrying about, and he’d started talking before he could convince himself not to.

“Yeah, Stiles. This is a safe space. Are you okay?” Ethan asked him seriously, his hand landing on Stiles’ knee and squeezing gently.

“Yup,” he announced, popping the “p”. “I am all good. I’m great, even! Nothing wrong over here!”

Aiden narrowed his eyes. Then, they flashed red, and Stiles’ heart rate started picking up without even a fission of fear. “Did someone do something?”

“No!” Stiles exclaimed, rolling his eyes. “Jeez, calm down, protectivewolf. I’m fine.”

“Good,” Ethan told him, squeezing his knee again. “What’s going on, Stiles?”

Stiles blew out a breath. He looked up at the ceiling as he thought about what he wanted to say and how he wanted to say it. While Stiles knew that there was no love lost between the twins and the rest of the Alpha pack, what he wanted to suggest was still a little… extreme. Or, at least, it felt extreme to him. It might not seem extreme to the twins, who’d already had to make impossible choices despite being just as young as Stiles was.

But that was this world. Their world, because Stiles was just as tied to the supernatural as the werewolves on his bed. He wasn’t ever going to get out, and that meant he had to move forward.

And his idea of moving forward was… a little violent.

“You… you know Boyd went to see Derek the other night? To tell him that he and Erica were okay, but that they weren’t ready to come back together as a pack?” Stiles asked hesitantly, knowing full well that neither twin had been particularly fond of Boyd’s plan.

Thankfully, Aiden didn’t start ranting about reckless betas, and just nodded. “Right, well… Derek told Boyd some stuff. Some pretty important stuff that I think we might need to do something about.”

“Oh?” Ethan asked. “Is that what you’re so nervous about?”

Stiles shot him a glare. “Stupid werewolf senses,” he muttered, but then he blew out a breath and laced his fingers through Ethan’s against his knee. “Sorta, yeah. I… I think we need to deal with the other Alphas.”

Ethan’s fingers flexed around his own, but it was Aiden who asked, “What do you mean by deal with, Stiles?” in a voice that sent a shiver down his spine.

Taking a deep breath, Stiles decided to just go for it. After all, Stiles had stabbed a knife through Aiden’s hand during their first encounter, and that night they’d shown up at his house for homework help.

Maybe a little violence wouldn’t throw them off.

“I’m going to kill them,” he whispered, knowing that both boys would hear him clearly. “I’m not asking for approval or permission or anything like that. I am going to kill them for what they’ve done. But I… I wanted to know if you two want to help, or if you want me to keep you out of it.”

“God, you’re fucking incredible,” Aiden growled.

And then he pushed up onto his knees, and literally stalked across the bed until he was hovering over Stiles where he was now leaning back on his hands to keep himself from literally combusting.

“I want to kiss you, Stiles,” Aiden said, his eyes blazing red. “Can I kiss you, babe? Please let me kiss you.”

With his heart racing a painful beat against his chest, Stiles shot his eyes over to Ethan to find the other boy watching them both with flushed cheeks and his own set of high beams blazing Alpha red.

“Uhm, I…” Stiles said, hesitating as he looked between them with wide eyes.

“I want to kiss you too,” Ethan promised, but he stayed where he was. “I just have enough patience to wait until my brother is done with you.”

Stiles’ stomach swooped low at the words “my brother”, which was something he was not ready to examine at all.  

“Okay,” he whispered, and then he tilted his head back in a way that definitely exposed his throat, because both boys growled.

Which was really fucking hot, holy shit.

Then, Aiden kissed him.

Which was. Wow. It was wow. Sure, Stiles didn’t have a ton of experience getting his mack on, and other than that one kiss with Heather, he was sorta lacking in the smooching department. But none of that seemed to matter as Aiden kissed him.

Despite the way the other boy had been growling, Aiden kissed him sweetly. His lips were warm and dry when they pressed against Stiles’ own, and he sucked in a breath through his nose as he pursed his lips. A hand cupped the back of his neck, and without even thinking about it, Stiles knew that it was Ethan whose fingers started carding through his hair as Aiden shifted the press of their lips into something that made his heart kick up into overdrive.

“Fuck,” he whispered, and then he whined when Aiden chuckled and nipped at his bottom lip.

“My turn,” Ethan growled, and Stiles went as Ethan started guiding his head to the side.

A second later, a second set of lips was pressing against his own. Ethan kissed him firmly, and his lips parted ever so slightly as he tilted his head to the side. Stiles did the same, doing his best to copy the movement even with his eyes closed. His upper lip caught against Ethan’s once, and then they managed to line up and—

Fuck. Fuck, that was good.

Aiden chuckled, but before Stiles could get upset, his hand slipped under his shirt and pressed against his hip.

“Oh yes,” Stiles breathed, pulling back to find Aiden watching them with a smirk that made Stiles’ dick throb. “Oh yes, this is a good development.”

They both laughed. Then, Ethan tackled him onto the bed and kissed him till he was seeing stars.

And then Aiden kissed him even more.

“Does anyone need anything from the kitchen?”

Boyd’s deep, melodic voice pulled Stiles from his history haze. He blinked down at his notebook a few times before he’d cleared his thoughts and Boyd’s words actually penetrated the study fog. He looked at his now-empty cup and groaned when he pushed himself up off the floor.

Maybe he used his core strength to get up. Maybe he didn’t. Maybe it was because he could feel Aiden’s eyes on him. Maybe it wasn’t.

“Yeah, I’ll help,” Stiles said. He looked at where the twins were sitting together on the loveseat right next to him, and asked, “Do you two need anything?”

“Can you get me some more water, baby?” Ethan asked him sweetly, a little smile on his face that Stiles wanted to kiss. He almost did, but then he remembered that it wasn’t just the three of them and he swayed backwards instead, something he didn’t like winding around his chest.

But now wasn’t the time to deal with it, so he pushed the feeling aside and did his best to smile as he nodded at Ethan’s request.

They walked into the kitchen side by side, Stiles’ fingers curling around Boyd’s shoulder. Ever since the two of them had been freed from the Alphas, they’d joined them for their week-night study sessions. Erica and Boyd had missed a decent amount of school since they’d been taken at the end of year, and Stiles was helping them get caught up.

It was kinda weird. The Stilinski household had been so… not empty, not with him and his dad, but it had been so quiet for so long. There was nothing quiet about five teenagers hanging out, even when they were doing homework or studying.

Especially when four of them were rowdy werewolves.

Once they were in the kitchen and had the illusion of privacy, Stiles filled up his water cup, grabbed one for Ethan, and then turned to look at Boyd.

“How’s your mom taking the whole…” Stiles trailed off, but he made a clawing motion with his hand as he bared his teeth in Boyd’s direction.

The taller boy snorted, which was exactly what Stiles had been going for. “She hasn’t been around long enough to tell her.”

Which. Damn. Even at his dad’s worst, he hadn’t worked that much. And Stiles knew that Boyd’s mom wasn’t only gone for work.

“Hey, if you ever need a place to crash, the couch is pretty comfy to sleep on,” Stiles offered genuinely, wanting to reach out but keeping his hands to himself this time. He still wasn’t sure if Boyd was the type who wanted comfort during times like this, or if keeping his distance would be better received.

“Thanks, but he already has arrangements,” Erica purred, strolling into the kitchen and plastering herself against Boyd’s chest. “Besides, your house seems a little crowded these days. Or… maybe that’s just your bed.”

Stiles very violently choked on his sip of water, pounding his chest as he started coughing deep enough that he felt it in his gut.

“Whoa, Batman, I didn’t mean to kill you,” Erica said softly, reaching out and wrapping her fingers around his wrist.

“You could have phrased that better,” Boyd chided gently, but there was an easy smile on his face that Stiles hadn’t ever seen before.

It hit him in the gut, because Boyd looked genuinely happy.

“Oh my god,” he wheezed, ignoring his emotional revelation and instead focusing on the mortification he could feel colouring his cheeks. “Oh my god, why would you say that?”

“I just thought I’d get it out there,” Erica said, unrepentant. Then, she grinned. “So, are you getting that good good twin dick?”

“Oh my god,” Stiles whispered. His cheeks were burning so badly that he knew that he had to be blushing and that the blush would be dark, splotchy, red. “Oh my god, what is wrong with you?”

“C’mon, tell us what’s up, Batman. ‘Cause if you’re single, me and Boyd have a question we need to ask you,” Erica told him, batting her eyelashes in a way that was actually pretty interesting to Stiles’ teenage hormones.

Before he could say anything, twin growls erupted from the living room.

“We’re dating him,” Ethan called, at the same time as Aiden shouted, “Back off, blondie!”

Stiles blinked. He looked at the archway that separated the kitchen from the hallway that connected to the living room. He blinked some more as he realized that his heart rate was finally starting to calm down. Because even if the others couldn’t accept them, Aiden and Ethan wanted him. They wanted to date him.

Erica was grinning. Widely. Scarily. Stiles swallowed heavily even as something warm bloomed in his chest. He wasn’t sure if this was Erica’s version of approval, but he was going to take what he could get. After all, neither of them were saying anything about the way he was apparently dating both boys.

Hell, Stiles wasn’t even totally sure how that worked, because besides a few kisses he shared with each of them throughout the last few days—and the extra snuggles he was now indulging in—nothing had changed. He was more affectionate with each of them, they were more affectionate—and flirty—with him, but it wasn’t like they were doing anything different.

Then again, it had been two days since they’d first kissed, so maybe Stiles was jumping the gun?

Well, considering the fact that they were living together, he was definitely jumping the gun, but…

He didn’t care. He liked how he felt when he was with Aiden and Ethan, and he didn’t want to lose that.

So Stiles shrugged, and said, “You heard ‘em,” with a smile that quickly made his cheeks ache from how wide it was.

“Good for you,” Boyd said softly. “You seem happier.”

“Happier?” Stiles asked, wondering what he meant.

“Than last year,” he explained, which didn’t really explain too much of anything but still made his chest feel all soft and achy for Boyd.

“Yeah,” Stiles said quietly, his smile growing impossibly wider. “Yeah, I am.”

“Come out, come out, little red.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. Hard. Dear god, what a horrible line. While he was wearing a red sweater, it was Aiden’s and it smelt like him, and Stiles had definitely stolen it the other night. The fact that Ennis was playing into the ‘big bad wolf’ role was kinda weird and kinky in a way that Stiles had not consented to.

There were only two Alpha werewolves he wanted to eat him up, after all.

So no, no eating was happening, but the ‘little red riding hood’ allegory was sorta apt. If it was little red who ate the ‘big bad wolf’, anyway. And it wasn’t that Stiles was planning on eating Ennis, because ew cannabilism, but he was going to murder him.

Or, well, technically the twins were going to murder him. Okay, it was just a bad allegory all around. He could admit defeat when it was warranted.

After they’d finished making out the other night, the twins had told him where Ennis ran in the mornings, and assured him that all Stiles had to do to lure him away was to show up at the right time. So just like they’d said, he’d crossed the Alpha's path and Ennis had immediately started tailing him. The worst part was that he hadn’t even tried to be subtle about following him as Stiles led him deeper into the forest.

All he had to do was make sure that they made it to the little clearing Stiles had already set up. Just a few more feet and he’d be good.

“I’m not exactly hiding,” Stiles called out, hearing a branch snap. He wasn’t sure if Ennis was just really incompetent or if he considered Stiles such a null threat that he wasn’t even trying.

It was probably the latter.

Ennis didn’t say anything beyond growling menacingly, so Stiles shrugged and kept walking. He wasn’t super familiar with the preserve, but Aiden and Ethan had marked out the path he needed to take with pinecones, and Stiles followed the trail until he stepped into the semi-clear patch of grass they were using to take down Ennis.

After a few more strides, Stiles neatly side-stepped in front of a large oak tree. He grabbed his bat from where it was leaning against the bark and hefted it against his shoulder. It was a wide enough tree that he was able to stand completely in front of it, and he kept an ear out as he listened to Ennis’ movements. He was getting closer, and Stiles took slow, even breaths that kept his heartbeat steady even though he was freaking the fuck out on the inside.

He closed his eyes and remembered how warm he’d been when he woke up tucked between Aiden and Ethan. When he’d threatened the twins all those weeks ago, he’d been full of false bravado and shaking hands. He had no idea what he was doing but he’d known he had to do something, and his voice had broken as he told the twins to stay away from his friends.

This was different.

This time, Stiles had friends. He had a pack, even if neither he nor the twins had called it that yet. Even without the words, though, Stiles knew that they were working towards something that mattered. Something that was bigger than him, than them, than all of the bullshit that went down in their godforsaken town.

Killing Ennis was just the first step to something more. It had to be.

As soon as the Alpha stepped into the clearing, Stiles closed his eyes and focused on the bright flicker of something that sat warm in his chest. It was easy, like this, to picture the line of mountain ash he’d laid down earlier that morning. It wasn’t nearly as easy to will the ash closed, but he managed to do it even as he pushed through a stitch in his side that throbbed up his ribs.

Then, he moved. Spinning out, Stiles brought his baseball bat down with all of his strength. He was lucky he was fast enough to make contact, and a jolt of force travelled up his arms as he smashed the bat into Ennis’s left kneecap.

The sound of crunching bone was so disgusting he almost threw up even as he quickly backed away, before he sprinted to the other end of the clearing and pulled a gun from the holster under his sweater.

“What the fuck,” Ennis spat, down on his broken knee as he glared at Stiles with blazing red eyes. Around his fangs, Ennis promised, “I’m gonna gut you,” but Stiles’ hands kept steady as he aimed the gun at the Alpha’s chest.

His stomach churned with fear, but they had a plan. Stiles’ gun was filled with wolfsbane/mistletoe bullets that would do some serious damage. It was okay. He was going to be okay. But as Ennis growled at him and tried to stand, fear gripped Stiles and made him whimper.

Then the twins, merged together in their Magical Girl Transformation form, stalked out from behind another really big tree and growled.

It was hot. Stiles was so not sure how he felt about how hot it was. But fuckity fuck, it was hot.

“It’s over,” the twins growled, their merged form making the words sound thick and heavy with resonance.

Then, they took a few long, sloping strides to Ennis, and tore out his throat.

“Oh, wow,” Stiles breathed, his stomach twisting. “I forgot how much I hate the sight of blood.”

He shot his eyes heavenwards and once again started some deep breathing, only this time he was breathing through his mouth and he was focusing on not losing his breakfast all over the forest floor. Good god, that was disgusting. That was so disgusting. Is that what killing people was like? Was he going to have to do that himself one day? Because Stiles did not know if he was down with killing the rest of the Alphas and the Darach if there was going to be so much blood involved.

Because he was looking at the sky and focusing on his breathing, Stiles didn’t notice the twins approaching until their hulking form was blocking out the sun. Stiles’ eyes slowly adjusted from the over-bright sky to the merged face of his boyfriends. Or boyfriend? Did their merged form have a different consciousness? Or did they just share the steering wheel?

“I have so many questions,” Stiles breathed, but then they kissed him.

Which. Oh. Stiles was on board. Stiles was so on board, and he looped his arms around the hulking form’s very wide shoulders, digging his fingers into their bare skin as he held on.

“Yes,” Stiles breathed, resting back on his feet as he stared up at his boyfriends with a grin. “I approve of this post-murder activity.”

The form grinned—part Aiden’s dirty teasing, part Ethan’s dashing charm—and then it started to… unstitch itself. Stiles blinked as the twins de-merged, an activity that Stiles never wanted to see again, and then found himself staring when his boyfriends were standing right in front of him but were still… entangled.

Not only were their bodies entangled, but so were their mouths. Because they were kissing. Stiles gaped, his gun slipping from his hands as his fingers went lax, while he watched Aiden and Ethan devour each other. There was moaning. There was groaning. Ethan slid his hand down Aiden’s ass and squeezed his cheek, and Aiden whined.

Which was.

It was.

Stiles thought that it was—

“Uhm what?” Stiles managed to ask, his voice an octave higher than anything he’d ever heard come from him before. “W-What’s going on?”

The twins tore apart from each other. Both of their eyes were blazing red as they turned to Stiles at once, and the absolute shock painted across their faces was easy for him to read. Stiles had no idea what was going on, but it was pretty easy to ascertain that they had not meant to make out in front of him.

Which, seeing as how he’d been making out with both of them for the last week, was. It was a thing. A thing that Stiles didn’t know but felt like he probably should know since they had established that he was dating them both.

Huh. Huh, he guessed he was really dating them both. Which—

“Oh. Actually, I have an erection right now. Keep going please, I think I might be a voyeur,” Stiles breathed shamelessly.

He was hard, his erection straining almost painfully against his jeans. The teeth of the zipper were digging in even through his boxers, and Stiles maybe, just a little, humped the air to feel something as his entire body went molten hot as he replayed Aiden and Ethan making out behind his eyelids.

Holy fucking hell, that was the hottest thing he’d ever seen.

But then instead of keeping it up, the twins turned to him in unison. Their eyes seemed even brighter than he’d ever seen, and before Stiles could so much as take a breath, they pounced.

It was a very, very good post-murder activity.

Until they had to burn the body.

Burning the body was not as fun as sexy three-way make-outs were.

“Wait, you’re telling me you guys lived in the same building as Allison?”

Aiden snorted. “It wasn’t our idea. We just went wherever Deucalion pointed.”

Stiles had finally asked about the Magical Girl Transformation . He’d also asked about the twincest. He had gotten a lot of interesting information about both, and now he was asking whatever came to mind. It was nice. Both of them were so open, so free with information that Stiles never felt he had to guess after what something really meant. It was really nice, because it was going both ways, too. The twins were asking about him—about growing up in Beacon Hills, his relationship with his dad, about the shit show that was his introduction to the supernatural—and they were actually listening to him.

They were all sprawled out across Stiles’ bed. It was a few days after they’d dealt with Ennis, and so far everything seemed okay. No one had accosted him at school to demand to know what had happened. Erica and Boyd knew, somehow, but they’d simply congratulated them on a job well done.

Now, in the early hours of the afternoon, they finally had a second to just be.

“Hey, can I call it something?” Stiles asked, turning onto his side. Aiden was reclined against Stiles’ headboard with Ethan sprawled across his lap. That hadn’t taken much getting used to, and Stiles was pretty sure it was ‘cause it was so hot. “Ya know, when you do your Magical Girl Transformation.”

“Our what?” Aiden asked, his eyes flashing red as a little bit of an annoyed growl slipped into his words.

Ethan laughed, so Stiles pressed up onto his elbow so they could share a kiss.

Once he was back on his side, he added, “Ya know, when you two turn into a hulking beast of delicious Alphaness without eyebrows but with lots of abs.”

“That’s better,” Aiden told him with a snort. “Why do you want to call it something?”

“Well, it’s not really… you? Is it? Like, I know it’s the two of you combined together and all, but how does that work? Do you fight for mental dominance? Is it a sexy fight for mental dominance? Can a fight for mental dominance even be sexy?”

“I sometimes think of him as Voltron,” Ethan said. He reached out and started running his fingers up and down Stiles’ forearm, lightly enough that it bordered on being ticklish.

“Huh, I can get behind that.” Stiles flipped his hand up to lace their fingers together on Ethan’s next pass. “So… am I dating three people? Is Volty a member of this relationship too?”

“Really Stiles?” Aiden asked him flatly, rolling his eyes.

“What! I don’t know! I’ve never dated anyone before, let alone a set of twins who merge into an ultimate form,” Stiles told him, rolling his eyes. Then, quieter, he admitted, “I have no idea what I’m doing.”

Ethan squeezed his hand. “We don’t either, baby. We’ve… well, we haven’t dated anyone before either.”

“We’ll be figuring this out together,” Aiden promised. He reached out and ran a hand through Stiles’ hair, gently tugging on the ends in a way that made his belly feel warm. He leaned his head into it, letting out a soft noise of pleasure when Aiden tugged gently. “Does that feel good?”

“Fuck,” Stiles whispered, low and from the back of his throat. “Y-Yeah, I like that.”

“God, you’re so hot,” Ethan whispered, and then he shifted onto his side and pressed in for a kiss.

At this point, kissing Ethan was very familiar. Stiles let himself get lost in the glide of their lips, pulling his hand free so he could slip it under Ethan’s shirt and feel up his side. Both boys were very well sculpted—it was the werewolf metabolism—and Stiles let his thumb trail in to brush over Ethan’s abs. As he opened his mouth and let Ethan lick inside, he brushed his knuckles along Ethan’s waistband, digging his joints into the trail of hair in the middle of his belly.

Ethan made a noise that went right to his cock, and Stiles’ hips stuttered forward even as he moaned.

“I want in,” Aiden growled, and Stiles laughed even as he got moving.

He slipped his arm under Ethan’s side and rolled over, taking the boy with him. Ethan laughed when his back hit the bed, but Stiles didn’t let it last for long before he was leaning down to steal another series of wet kisses. The bed was shifting behind him, and Stiles draped his leg over Ethan’s lap so he could press even closer and make more space.

Space which Aiden readily filled. The bigger teen pressed up against his back, his forearm pressed along Stiles’ side as he gently lowered himself down. Stiles could feel the warm weight of him but it wasn’t crushing, and he let out an encouraging noise even as he rolled his hips against Ethan’s thigh a little—or a lot; he wasn’t ashamed to admit that he was turned the fuck on.

“I am so glad I had Dad call me out of the cross-country meet,” Stiles groaned, arching his neck as Aiden sucked at the skin. Fuck, that felt so good. “T-This is so much better.”

“Less talking,” Ethan growled.

Ethan pressed up against him, kissing him hard. Aiden never kissed quite this demanding, and Stiles loved giving back as good as he got. Before he could second guess himself, he trailed his hand down Ethan’s belly and palmed over his sizable bulge.

Which.

Wow.

Stiles choked out a moan as he moved to hide his face in the curve of Ethan’s neck. Ethan groaned too, the noise slipping into a growl when Stiles curled his fingers around his erection, as best as he could through his jeans. And then he was holding a penis. A real, human penis that wasn’t his own.

Holy fuck.

“Holy fuck,” he whispered, mouthing at the warm skin of Ethan’s neck as he rolled his hips.

Then he realized that Aiden was just as hard as him, and his own nice-feeling erection was pressing into his ass. Sure, there were two layers of jeans and underwear, but this was the closest a dick had ever been to his ass and Stiles was really enjoying it.

“Aiden, kiss me,” Ethan begged, which made Stiles’ dick throb in a way that probably wasn’t entirely healthy but felt too good for him to even care.

“Fuck,” he whispered again, and then he started moving his hand in some sort of rhythm as he did his best to roll his hips. “Fuck, I’m going to come.”

“Me too, baby,” Ethan whispered, tilting his head to the side and pressing his lips against Stiles’ temple as Aiden’s own mouth pressed against the back of his neck and started sucking with enough pressure that Stiles felt it in his balls. “J-Just keep doing that. Can you—do you want to keep doing that?”

“Fuck yes,” Stiles whispered.

Then, both of Aiden’s hands grabbed his hips and he started moving them in tandem and oh god. His arousal swelled, his belly going hot with molten heat that seemed to seep into the rest of his limbs. His pleasure grew, his balls drawing up until Aiden rolled his hips in a way that lined up his erection with the crease of Stiles’ ass, and that was it. Game over.

Stiles came, his hips stuttering into Ethan’s thigh and then back into the pressure of Aiden’s cock. He did his best to keep his hand moving even as he came in his underwear, his dick pulsing with each shot of warm come. Aiden growled above him first, and human teeth bit into the side of his neck tight enough that pain flashed through his body before mixing with the pleasure of his orgasm and drawing out another few beads of come.

“Fuck,” Stiles slurred. Then, taking a note from Aiden’s book, he clamped his teeth down onto the tendon of Ethan’s neck and echoed the other boy’s moan when dampness flooded Ethan’s pants.

Stiles realized, distantly, that he was feeling a wet spot because Ethan had come, which meant that there was come under his hand, come that had come from a real-life penis he was touching, and his own penis valiantly attempted to get hard all over again.

“Not yet,” he muttered. Then he realized he’s just said that out loud, and let out a slightly crazed laugh.

“Wha’s ‘at, baby?” Ethan slurred, his lips still pressed against Stiles’ head.

“Holy fucking shit,” Stiles whispered. “Group orgasms are the best orgasms!”

“Babe, we’re still fully dressed,” Aiden said, his hands running up and down his sides. He was sitting against Stiles’ thighs now, and he definitely seemed the most coherent. Stiles thought about moving to check that Aiden had come too, but he was too comfortable. “Think of how good we’ll feel when we have naked group orgasms.”

“Now?” Stiles asked, hopeful even though his dick still felt kinda raw from rubbing up against his boxers.

“After a nap,” Ethan muttered. “Aiden, cuddle.”

“Babe, my jeans are sticky,” Aiden protested, but it sounded weak.

“I don’t care,” Stiles said decisively. “I just had sex. I’m pretty sure I just lost my virginity. Cuddle me, mister.”

Aiden laughed, the noise sounding brighter and freer than he’d ever heard it before. The other boy pressed a kiss to the back of his head before he shifted up behind Stiles, his arm reaching over Stiles’ hip to touch his brother.

“This is good,” Aiden whispered. “Thank you.”

Stiles was pretty sure he mumbled something in reply, but he was already mostly asleep. Still, even in his sleep haze he knew that he would do anything he needed to keep these two boys happy and safe.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“Now, is that any way to welcome an old friend?” Peter Hale’s voice was smarmy. His face was smarmy. His v-neck fucking t-shirt was smarmy.

“We aren’t friends,” Stiles said evenly, keeping his hand firmly wrapped around the doorknob. He’d only opened his front door enough for him to take up the opening, and he made sure that the door didn’t swing any wider.

Peter Hale was standing on his front porch, and Stiles sure as shit wasn’t inviting him inside.

Just. Fucking. Great.

Aiden and Ethan were both still upstairs. It sounded like the shower was still running, so they were likely working out the second round their wolfy recovery rate allotted them. Which meant that they were wet, soapy, and probably super hot, but also not readily available should Stiles need them.

And as he eyed Peter—who was just standing there with his smarmy smirk on his smarmy face—he figured he would probably need them.

“Be that as it may, you did set me on fire, Stiles. That wasn’t very nice of you, and I think you owe me an apology,” Peter told him like he was making conversation.

He was standing calmly, with his shoulders up but back and his hands hanging loosely at his sides. Stiles wasn’t fooled; he knew enough about Peter Hale to know the man was a threat, even now that he was seemingly sane and no longer feral. Sure, Derek wasn’t a wealth of information, but he did say enough that Stiles was able to piece certain things together.

From what Derek had said, Peter was dangerous. And not in a feral, revenge-thirsty Alpha type of way. No, from the things Derek had dropped about his past, Peter was likely more dangerous now that he was sane.

Which wasn’t comforting, since he was standing on his front porch.

“Uh… sorry not sorry? I mean, sorry that I set you on fire and all, since that was kind of a dick move fueled by the absolute heart-stopping terror you’d instilled in my life, but definitely not sorry that I helped kill you before you killed even more people,” Stiles told him, shrugging his shoulders.

“I wouldn’t have killed anyone else,” Peter said as if he was affronted. Hell, he even raised a hand to his chest like he was taken aback.

Stiles snorted. “Dude, I know you were on some sort of revenge-fueled murder spree, but you were also bat-shit crazy and feral,” Stiles said plainly. “Do you really think you would have stopped? Because I think you would have kept going.”

Peter tilted his head to the side like he was studying him. Stiles hated it, mostly because he hated feeling so seen. Peter’s eyebrow perked up when the shower shut off, but Stiles ignored both him and the faint noises he could hear coming from inside.

God, he wished he had more magic.

Instead, he took a deep breath and focused on the open container of mountain ash he had in his bedroom.

“You might be right,” Peter agreed, as the ash started slithering down the stairs.

It never hurt to be prepared, right?

“So why are you really here?” Stiles asked. The ash pooled into a pile behind the closed door, ready to block off the entrance or wrap around Peter if he made a move to attack.

At this point, Stiles didn’t think he was going to, but he also didn’t have any of his knives on him, so.

“I couldn’t be here just because I missed you?” Peter asked, and this time Stiles did let out a small laugh.

“C’mon, creeperwolf. It’s late, it’s cold, and I have school in the morning. Why are you here?”

“You could always invite me in,” Peter purred. It was weird.

“And you could always tell me what you want before I close the door,” Stiles snapped, his fingers flexing on the handle.

“Fine, fine. No need to be hasty, darling,” Peter drawled easily. “I simply came to check on my favourite human. You are the most interesting of my nephew’s… acquaintances, and your presence has been rather lacking. Especially since Derek got his wayward betas back.”

Stiles blinked. Peter looked like he was telling the truth. But, Peter had also twisted his way into Lydia’s brain and used her to claw his back from the dead, so he was probably pretty good at manipulating people.

A crash sounded from upstairs. Then, Ethan’s laugh rang out, nearly drowned out by Aiden’s growl.

Stiles considered slapping a palm to his forehead, but didn’t want to take his eyes off Peter.

“Well, I was curious when the twin twinks didn’t show up at the mall,” Peter said with a hum. “But I see they’ve just found something more interesting to occupy their time.”

There were so many things that Stiles could say to that, but he didn’t really want to say any of it, so instead, he asked, “What mall?”

Which led to Peter looking very pleased in a way that definitely meant nothing good.

God, was talking to Peter always this annoying? If so, Stiles definitely didn’t want to do it again.

“Oh? You don’t know about the little adventure your friends went on?” Peter asked him. He also lifted a perfectly groomed eyebrow.

“All my friends are accounted for,” Stiles ground out. He was getting fed up. “Now, tell me whatever it is you came here to say, or so help me I will shove your ass so full of mistletoe you’ll be pissing flower petals for the rest of your life.”

“I’m not even sure if that makes any sort of biological sense, but it was rather intimidating.” Peter sighed, as if he was put upon, but he dipped his head. “Very well, darling. If you wanted to get into my pants, all you had to do was ask.”

Then, before he could say anything else, both twins growled loudly as they climbed down the stairs.

“Ah, there they are,” Peter said, his smile growing. “Although, I believe my earlier characterization was quite off. Twin twunks, perhaps.”

This time, Stiles actually let out a startled laugh.

The door was pulled from his grasp as Aiden opened it further. The twins stepped up close, flanking him on either side. Stiles shifted his weight to the left, giving Ethan more room to step up behind him as they both crowded close.

“Oh, how interesting,” Peter drawled, his eyes burning bright, electrical blue for three counts before they faded back and his smirk got even wider. “You never do fail to impress me, sweetheart.”

The twins growled again. Stiles rolled his eyes. So far, Peter hadn’t done anything threatening. He was still just standing there in the same relaxed posture, though the expression on his face was more interested than before.

“I guess you might as well come in,” Stiles muttered and then turned to make his way into the living room.

A few minutes later, the twins joined him on the loveseat, squishing in beside him until they were all pressed way too close together in the best way imaginable. A moment after that, the front door closed, and then Peter was making his way through the living room and sitting gingerly on the armchair his dad favoured.

“What’s this about a mall, Peter?” Stiles asked.

“You truly don’t know?” 

“I… Scott and I aren’t on the best of terms, and I’ve never been close with Derek,” Stiles said plainly. “I’ve never been close with you, either, which makes me wonder why you’re here.”

“They do say curiosity killed the cat,” Peter said, as if that was any sort of an answer.

“And satisfaction brought it back. Something you must be pretty familiar with.”

There was a gleam in Peter’s eyes that Stiles didn’t know what to do with.

“It was days and days ago now. A challenge was issued, and Derek accepted. He brought along his sister and his beta, who was followed by Scott. The Argent girl was there at the end, but she only arrived in time to keep the others from being slaughtered,” Peter explained. He lifted a foot onto his opposite knee and tangled his fingers together in the space that created. “Three Alphas against my nephew and three betas? It was hardly a fair fight.”

Stiles went tense, his body locking up as he narrowed his eyes. Peter was still grinning, looking smug and smarmy as he watched Stiles watch him. This was the Peter that Derek talked about, the one who dealt with threats before they could even threaten.

He took a deep breath, but Peter continued before he could say anything.

“You are right, Stiles. Well, partially. I did come here to check on you, because the scent of my nephew’s wayward betas is baked into your house, along with a twist of Alpha that was unfamiliar to me. Not only that, but Ennis has since disappeared without a trace—odd, considering everyone walked away from the mall alive—and you have been absent from any get-together the so-called pack has had as of late.”

“You caught my interest all those months ago when your heartbeat fluttered, and you’ve captured it again. Tell me, darling, what is it that you’re planning?”

Aiden casually laid an arm across the back of the couch as Ethan pressed a warm, heavy hand to Stiles’ thigh. Peter’s eyes tracked the movements, but Stiles only noticed because of how closely he was watching the wolf.

Peter’s nostrils flared, and a line of tension crept along his shoulders. It wasn’t disgust; Stiles wasn’t sure what exactly it was, but there was nothing negative in Peter’s expression.

Thankfully, he didn’t need super senses when his boyfriends had them in spades.

“We have an enforcer,” Aiden said, a note of interest in his voice.

Ethan finished by adding, “But we still need a Left Hand.”

“Is that why you’re really here, Peter?” Stiles asked calmly, raising an eyebrow of his own.

It made more sense than anything else had so far. Peter was a born wolf who had been raised in a big family pack. Even as the Left Hand and all that seemed to come with it, Peter had been used to being around others. From the little bit that Stiles had seen of Derek and Peter over the summer, it had seemed pretty clear that the Alpha wasn’t enthused to have his uncle back from the dead.

Peter was definitely smart enough to realize they were putting together a pack, however unintentional it was on their part. If he was here to… tease his way in, well.

It wasn’t like they’d set out to adopt two betas, what was a third?

“Yes,” Peter admitted, and it sounded like defeat. “Derek refuses to acknowledge the pack bond between us. I’ve clawed myself back from the dead once, and I’d rather not do it again.”

“You need a pack,” Ethan said plainly, but his voice was calm and emphatic. He squeezed Stiles’ thigh; both the twins knew what it was to crave belonging.

“I need a pack,” Peter murmured, and he finally dropped his eyes to his own hands.

“And us?” Stiles asked, leaning into Aiden’s side and lacing his fingers through Ethan’s. “Why us?”

Peter looked back up. An air of defeat was still heavy in the air between them, but it seemed to lighten as he stared back. Stiles would definitely need to talk to the twins—and the betas, since they absolutely were not going to be running a dictatorship around here—but this seemed like a good step.

He’d never thought about having Peter in his pack. Hell, he’d never thought about having a pack, but Peter was—well, he had the same bloody loyal streak that Stiles did.

Finally, Peter took a deep breath, and said, “I’m a survivor, darling, and like recognizes like.”

Which was true. So Stiles asked, “You don’t want the Alpha power?”

“I was never meant to be an Alpha,” Peter said. “I found that red didn’t suit me. I’m much better at working from the shadows.”

“Do you know what’s sacrificing people?” Ethan asked curiously. They’d talked about it the other night, but none of them had any leads yet.

Apparently, neither did Peter, since he said, “Not yet, no.”

“Do you think you can find out?” Aiden’s voice was a low, comforting rumble. When Stiles glanced up at him, his eyes glowing burning red.

Peter’s eyes burned electric blue as he said, “Absolutely.”

“This movie is stupid.”

“Shut it, blondie,” Aiden snapped, growling as he snapped his teeth in the air.

Stiles snorted, snuggling deeper into Ethan’s lap as he continued watching the TV. He kinda agreed with Erica. It wasn’t a bad movie, sure, but it was kinda dumb. A B-movie that Stiles hadn’t ever heard of before but seemed to be about an alien race taking over another alien race as a thinly veiled thought piece on racism.

“Who’re you calling blondie, blondie?” Erica sneered. Well, she may have sneered. Seeing as how he was sitting on the cushion beside Ethan and he had her back to them, he was just going off of the tone of her voice, and she definitely sounded like she was sneering.

Erica sneered a lot.

“I like it,” Boyd said.

“Hell yeah! Vernon, my man,” Aiden cheered. Then, because he was absolutely ridiculous, he threw himself across Stiles’ legs and reached out an arm for a fist bump.

Boyd bumped it.

Stiles rolled his eyes. Then, he started poking Aiden with his foot until he was sitting normally. Then, he plopped his feet in Aiden’s lap and wiggled his toes until the wolf started massaging the balls of his feet.

Stiles made a very indecent noise that earned him four growls, though two of them were significantly angrier than the others.

Hey, it wasn’t Stiles’ fault that he was dating two super hot werewolves! It wasn’t even his fault that the couch was way too small for all five of them. Even with Stiles sitting across Ethan’s lap and Erica halfway in Boyd’s, everyone else was still pressed together tightly. Which wasn’t exactly a bad thing, in Stiles’ opinion, but probably wasn’t super comfortable.

Stiles was comfortable, since he was sitting across Ethan’s thighs and had his head resting on the boy’s shoulder with his feet in Aiden’s lap. He was always comfortable when cuddling with the twins, which was, so far, one of the top highlights of dating them.

The top highlight was group orgasms, of course.

But this was nice, even crammed so close together. They hadn’t said it in so many words, not yet, but they were pack. Stiles knew that they were pack; knew it in the way they got together every day to help each other with their homework, knew it in the way that Erica and Boyd walked him to class and sat with them at lunch, knew it in the way that they cared for each other.

They were pack, the five of them, and as some shitty movie played out and they all sat too close on the couch, Stiles knew.

And he knew he would do whatever he needed to make sure they were okay.

“Is he awake?”

“Not yet, but you can go see him if you want,” Melissa said kindly, her smile just as soft and motherly as it had been for the last decade.

Stiles opened his mouth to say something, literally anything, and instead, he let out a desperate-sounding whine.

“Hey, come here, kid,” she said, and then didn’t wait before she was pulling him into a hug. “No matter what’s going on, you’re still important to me, Mischief.”

Stiles, who was absolutely not going to cry in a hospital hallway, just nodded his head into her shoulder and hugged her back tightly. She wasn't his mom. She’d never tried to be his mom, but she had been there during the worst times of Stiles’ life. His dad had been beyond devastated when Stiles’ mom finally passed, and it had… taken him some time to get through the worst of his own grief.

Stiles hadn’t been old enough to know what was going on with his dad. Melissa had made it seem almost fun, like he and Scott were having an extended sleepover, which had felt like a balm to his own grief. Now, he could recognize it for what it was, and he was so, so very thankful that she’d somehow juggled him and Scott for the weeks and weeks his dad had needed to resemble something human enough to care for him.

So, no. She wasn’t his mom, but she was motherly, and Stiles held her tightly, breathless with the relief of knowing he wouldn't lose this amazing woman even if he lost Scott.

After a few seconds—or, in reality, a few short minutes—Stiles managed to pull back.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “I love you.”

“I love you too, kid,” Melissa told him kindly. “Now go on and visit Danny. Scott came by earlier, but he didn’t stay for long. I think I saw him leave with Derek a few hours ago.”

Stiles frowned, but he ignored that piece of information and instead scrubbed at his eyes. “‘Kay,” he said, and then turned towards the door after Melissa gave him a kind smile.

Danny was still asleep. He was pale in his hospital bed, and Stiles stopped at the foot of it. He could still remember all those years ago when Danny had been out of school for months because something in his chest had been funny. They were sorta friends back then—or at least friendlier than they were now—but then Danny had gotten better and joined the lacrosse team, and another layer of social expectation had kept them apart.

“Danny?” he said softly, feeling Aiden and Ethan settle at his back, two warm shadows that he pulled comfort from.

Danny didn’t answer, so Stiles cast his eyes around the room. He knew that there was still shit going on, and Melissa’s comment about Scott visiting before leaving with Derek didn’t sit right. It wasn’t like Scott and Danny had ever been friends, not even now that Scott could actually play lacrosse.

Which…

Well, Stiles had always been nosy, so when Danny didn’t move, Stiles started going through his bag. Ethan gave him a look, but Stiles merely grinned. There wasn’t really anything useful, but there was an essay on Telluric Currents, which were apparently… extremely low-frequency electrical currents that flowed naturally through the earth. Huh.

Maybe that…

“What’s going on?” Danny muttered, his voice deep and hoarse.

“Danny boy,” Stiles whispered, his smile growing as he turned to find the boy blinking his eyes open. “I heard you weren’t feeling too good.”

Danny croaked out a laugh, and a second later Ethan was there with a styrofoam cup of water with a straw. Danny sipped it gingerly, eyeing the twin with a considerable amount of suspicion. Once he had seemed to drink his fill, Ethan stepped back and sat in the free chair at the side of the room, the cup still in his hand and balanced on his knee.

“What are you doing here?” Danny asked, his eyes moving to each of them.

“We came to see if you were okay,” Ethan answered quietly.

He looked like he wanted to reach out, but he kept his hands at his sides. Stiles knew how good werewolf pain drain could be, and he suddenly wished that Danny was in the know just so they could help ease some of his discomfort.

Aiden moved so he could squeeze Ethan’s shoulder, and Stiles sent him a quick smile in thanks before focusing back on Danny.

“My dad told me that you were here,” Stiles added. “He’d heard from Melissa.”

“Oh,” Danny said quietly. He seemed to size them up before he blew out a breath. “Yeah, I’m… okay. For now.”

“What happened?” Stiles asked gently, trying not to sound too curious.

“Something punctured my lung, apparently,” Danny told them. “Melissa said I’d vomited some sorta plant. White and red berries, I think?”

“Mistletoe,” Stiles breathed. Well, that was something to think about later. For now, he held up Danny’s essay, and shamelessly asked, “What’s this?”

Danny rolled his eyes, but he didn’t seem surprised. Probably because Stiles wasn’t any nosier than he’d been as a kid. “An essay I’m writing for Harris.”

Stiles pushed Aiden down into the unoccupied hospital chair, and then sat on his lap. Danny raised both of his eyebrows, but Stiles just grinned and waggled his own before he said, “I’ve got time, you’ve got time, and the twins have got time. Wanna tell me what these things are?”

And, to Stiles’ moderate surprise, Danny did.

“She’s close.”

Aiden’s breath brushed over the shell of Stiles’ ear. A shiver raced down his spine even as he focused, pulling his concentration tight. He knew that he wouldn’t have the same easy window as they had with Ennis, both because Kali wasn’t an idiot and because she was mad as hell that her mate had been killed, so he needed to get the timing right.

Hell, Stiles was mad as all hell too, and he focused on his simmering rage as Aiden tapped his hip to signal she was close enough.

With a pulse of energy, Stiles closed the ash circle.

Then, he stepped out from behind the big tree and raised both arms. The handguns he was using were more than familiar to him. He’d spent hours last night at the range, making sure his dual shooting was good enough for what he needed.

Now, he shot several times, aiming at Kali’s knees. Even though she tried to dodge out of the way, he hit her right kneecap quickly. Her left knee was quick to follow, with an additional two holes in her left shin that should help keep her down.

He tucked one of his handguns into his back holster as he stalked forward, grabbing the long, silver blade he had holstered to his thigh without breaking pace.

“This is what we did to Ennis,” Stiles said idly. He figured that he should be bothered by how easy it was to taunt her, but then he remembered the way Boyd had shown up, only a few days ago, after an unexpected fight at the loft.

Deucalion and Kali had attacked. Boyd was only there visiting, wanting to check up on Cora since none of them wanted to poach her from her brother. The Hales were so few and far between—even more so, now that Peter was one of theirs—and Boyd got along with Derek better than most. Strong silent types, Stiles had teased, before he’d wrapped Boyd in a hug at his front door.

Hours later, Peter had all but carried Boyd through the same door frame, bloodied and almost broken.

“We’re going to do worse to you,” Stiles told her simply.

He shot her right shoulder and then moved in quickly to slam a long, sharp knife through her left hand, driving the blade down until it had impaled the ground. She was fast, though, and Stiles hissed as her right hand dug a chunk of skin out of his thigh with a pair of very sharp claws.

“Fuck you,” he snarled. Then, he pinned her right hand to the ground with another long blade.

Limping backwards, Stiles did his best to send comfort towards the bundle of warmth that sat in his chest. He couldn’t feel pack bonds, not like the wolves, but he knew that he had to have some. The wolves could feel him, after all, so it would make sense if it went both ways.

Just because Stiles couldn’t actually feel them didn’t mean he couldn’t try, so he focused on letting the betas know he was okay even if he had no idea whether or not it would work.

The twins stalked forward, their merged form all big and brawny and totally sexy. Stiles appreciated the view, keeping an eye on Kali as he shifted his handgun to his right hand. He kept it pointed down, but he made sure to watch her closely.

She was growling, her beta shift distorting her face as she snapped at them. She couldn’t move—the blades were coated in wolfsbane, which should keep her down for the count unless she tore her own hands apart—and it seemed like she was beyond speech. There was something feral about the way she was snapping at the air, and Stiles had a moment of… not guilt, not after Kali had hurt his Boyd, but something.

The twins didn’t seem plagued by any sort of last-minute emotions. They didn’t hesitate or taunt. Instead, they stepped into Kali’s space, wrapped a hand around the base of her throat, grabbed her shoulder, and…

Oh god.

Stiles yelped even as he raised his arms to cover his eyes. That didn’t help, because he could still see Kali’s headless body slumping forward!

“Why would you do that?” Stiles asked, his voice still exceptionally high before—

Oh. Stiles felt it when Kali’s Alpha power flooded the twins.

“Oh,” he breathed, slowly uncovering his eyes to find Volty already stalking towards him. “Oh, that’s cool.”

Then, Volty grabbed him around the waist and lifted him up into a hug, spinning him around in a dizzying circle. Stiles let out a startled laugh that sounded embarrassingly like a giggle, oh my god, before he wrapped his legs around Volty’s very thick waist and used his thigh muscles to hoist himself up so he could look at them properly.

“I felt that,” Stiles told them, his wide grin matching the one he found on Volty’s face. Even if the feeling was already subsiding, Stiles could remember the rush of power that had hit him in the chest, right where the warmth of his pack was.

Some of it was still thrumming under his skin, even if it had mostly faded away into the background. He didn’t know what it meant that he could feel the power boost, but he knew they’d figure it out together. And if they couldn’t, Peter would probably know what it meant.

“This feels good,” Volty growled, his voice even deeper than it was before.

“Hey, do you think your dick grew?” Stiles asked, peering down at the thin slab of space between their bodies. “Like, your muscles look more muscley. Do you think your dick is bigger?”

“Do you want to find out, little one?” Volty asked him, which was… surprisingly sexy?

Wow. Wow, that was a kink he didn’t know he had.

“That shouldn’t have made me hard,” Stiles breathed. Then, he pressed in for a kiss. “Later. Later we are totally exploring that, oh my god.”

And then neither of them said anything for a long few minutes.

Since they were busy making out.

Really, really busy making out.

“That was quite the show, boys.”

Stiles rolled his eyes even as he scattered the mountain ash still blocking off the clearing. Peter was at the treeline, his eyes glowing in the fading light.

“What are you doing here, Peter?” Stiles asked, arching an eyebrow as the older man stepped around Kali’s corpse with barely a glance.

“I came here to give you a ride,” Peter told them. “I had my suspicions about what had happened to Ennis—especially after what nearly happened to our Vernon—but this… well, this was a work of beauty.”

Stiles snorted. Then, he rolled his eyes even as he ignored the burning pain in his thigh. Peter was truly a drama queen, but so far he’d been fitting in pretty well with the rest of them. They hadn’t had a chance for a lot of pack time yet. Boyd had shown up a few hours after they’d gotten back from visiting Danny, worn out and bloodied from a confrontation they’d barely survived, with Peter in tow.

Apparently, Peter had been around for the confrontation, but he hadn’t been directly involved. Something something something about not being up to his full strength that Stiles figured was mostly bullshit. However, he’d been able to give Boyd a drive home, and he’d helped the boy inside Stiles’ house before he’d helped Boyd clean his wounds.

The six of them had puppy piled for the rest of the night—thank god his dad had been working a night shift—but Stiles was pretty sure that wasn’t enough pack bonding for their wolfy bonds to really cement.

“Did you drive?” Aiden grunted as he lifted Kali’s body and tossed it into the center of the clearing.

Stiles closed his eyes, pulling the mountain ash in tighter and focusing on his intent. He wasn’t great at using it this way, but they’d done it with Ennis. A few embers had flickered out, so this time Stiles did his best to push more of his belief into the glowing sphere he could feel the mountain ash creating.

“It should be good,” he murmured, and then stumbled back directly into Ethan’s chest. “Mhm, thanks for the save, babe. I think my thigh needs stitches”

“That’s what I’m here for,” Ethan whispered into his ear, his arms twining around his waist. “Aiden, you got this?”

“Yeah.” Aiden stepped up to the circle of ash and looked down with a grimace. “God, she was so creepy.”

Ethan snorted against his neck. “She was, huh? Always took the whole apex predator thing to the next level.”

“Peter,” Aiden called. The beta was still watching them closely, but he tilted his head to show he was listening. “We need to set the body on fire. Can you show Ethan and Stiles back to the car?”

A moment of silence stretched out in the clearing. When Stiles chanced a glance up, Peter was staring at Aiden with something that looked… almost like awe stretched out across his face. Stiles couldn’t feel pack bonds so he couldn’t be sure, but there was something fragile in the way Peter was holding himself.

His heart clenched painfully, and he knew he would do whatever it took to keep him safe.

Peter was one of theirs now.

“Thank you,” Peter said quietly. He nodded, once, and then turned on his heel and started walking away.

Stiles laughed. “I guess we should follow him.”

“Looks like it,” Ethan said, pinching Stiles’ ass before he just swooped Stiles up and into his arms. “He’s such a bossy beta.”

“It could be the remnants of his last stint as an Alpha,” Stiles guessed, threading his fingers through the short hairs on the back of Ethan’s neck and rubbing gently at the skin.

“It’s because you’re all children!” Peter called back as he stomped ahead of them.

The sound of Stiles and Ethan’s laugh filled the preserve, and Stiles felt something in his heart grow unbearably soft.

“Where is all this energy coming from? It’s one in the morning!”

Stiles laughed as his back hit the mattress, bouncing a little while he got settled. Aiden crawled on after him, which was just ridiculously hot to watch and totally made Stiles’ dick twitch up against his boxers.

Since it was after midnight, they were all in their pyjamas. The last time they’d fooled around, they’d been fully dressed and high off the adrenaline of taking out Ennis. They were all still pretty hopped up on adrenaline, but they’d spent hours decompressing with their pack before the others had left and they’d gotten ready for bed.

As Aiden caged Stiles in with his body and rested his weight atop him, his breath stuttered.

Yeah. Wow, they felt different with minimal clothing.

Aiden’s eyes flashed, a bright, burning red, and he said, “It’s the power, baby.”

“Kali was strong,” Ethan murmured, close to his ear.

“And now so are we,” Aiden finished, before he leaned down and kissed him.

Which was still so, so good. Stiles pressed into it, arching his back and moving up into the kiss. Their lips moved together easily. Kissing Aiden was familiar after the weeks they’d spent together. Even with so much else going on, so much that they had to be aware of all the time, they’d still had time to just be with each other.

Like now. It was late. Way later than it should be since they had school in the morning, but Aiden was licking into his mouth and stealing his breath right out of his lungs. Their lips moved together easily, and Stiles let his thighs fall open so Aiden could press their bodies together even closer.

His bare thighs felt too warm against Aiden’s bare sides. Aiden was wearing sweatpants, but Stiles was in nothing but a ratty pair of boxers that he’d had for too long. They were both already hard, and as Aiden lined up their crotches, pleasure rocked through Stiles’ core and stole his breath away.

“C-Can I take your pants off?” Stiles asked, breathless. They hadn’t gone this far yet, but it was late, the house was empty, and even Stiles could still feel the echo of power coursing through his blood.

“Yeah,” Aiden whispered. His hands spasmed against Stiles’ ribs, and he said, “Yeah, Stiles, please.”

Aiden lifted his hips and Stiles pulled his sweats down. There was no need to waste time overthinking things. They’d been fooling around long enough that this was the logical next step, and Stiles was totally down to ride the wave of endorphins all the way to naked time.

“Oh my gosh,” Stiles whispered, his eyes going in. “You’re not cut.”

“Neither of us are,” Ethan said. When he let his head fall to the side, he saw that Ethan was lying on the bed next to them, his right arm folded behind his head and his eyes glowing as he watched them closely.

That was impossibly hot in a way that made Stiles’ brain hurt, so he focused back on Aiden’s penis. That wasn’t much better, since his heart started beating double time. It was slim, with an upward curve that would probably feel pretty good inside his body—which was a thought that just about broke Stiles’ brain so he quickly moved away from it.

Aiden had a nice penis. Stiles was glad about that—sure, he’d probably be fine with whatever type of penis Aiden (and Ethan) had but it was a lot better that it actually was a nice one—even if it was making it hard to breathe. Stiles wasn’t sure if you could die from arousal, but he figured he was pretty close to doing just that.

“Good job,” Stiles whispered, even though that didn’t really make sense.

Then, he snorted when Aiden almost face-planted into the mattress as he tried to wiggle out of his sweatpants.

“Can I take off yours?” Aiden asked him quietly, his eyes bright.

Stiles nodded. His throat felt too tight to speak, so he just nodded even more as he grinned up at Aiden widely. He reached out and fumbled until Ethan was twining their fingers together, holding on tightly even as he raised his hips up off the mattress so Aiden could take his underwear off.

And then he was naked. Aiden’s fingers skimmed down Stiles’ thighs, gentle when they passed the gauze wrapped around the spot Kali had hit. It was above his knee, on the outside of his right thigh and awkward enough that it was kinda annoying to walk. Thankfully, Aiden seemed to be hyper-aware of exactly where the bandage was and hadn’t knocked it yet.

“Fucking hell, Stiles,’ Ethan growled from his side, his teeth brushing over his shoulder as he rolled onto his side.

Stiles tilted his head and met him for a fang-filled kiss, his breath catching as he gently pressed his tongue against one of the sharp points. “Well that’s an ego boost,” he murmured, reaching up to playfully tug on Ethan’s newly sprouted sideburns.

Aiden snorted, and then straddled Stiles’ waist.

Only they were both naked, and Stiles was really hard. Aiden’s cock brushed against Stiles’ shaft, and he pretty much just about came right then and there. Instead of coming, he locked his body up tight, flexing his toes as he stretched out and stamped down on the need to release with all his might.

When the moment passed, he slumped back against the mattress and murmured, “Fuck.”

“I’m not going to last long either,” Aiden told him seriously. When Stiles looked up, his eyes were still burning red, but his face hadn’t shifted like his brother.

“Same,” Stiles said. Then, he added, “In case that wasn’t obvious, I am so close.”

Aiden shifted his hips around until their cocks were pressed together. Stiles let out a shuddering breath at the sensation, his hand going tight around Ethan’s fingers. Then, Aiden grabbed them both in his hand.

“Holy shit,” he whispered, watching as Aiden started moving his hand slowly.

Stiles wasn’t sure what was turning him on more; the feeling of Aiden’s supernaturally warm fingers wrapping around his erection, or the sight of their cocks sliding together. Stiles’ head was almost purple he was so hard, and the vein running up the side of his cock was pulsing with his racing heart.

“Fuck,” Aiden swore. He adjusted his grip so he had them in hand more securely, and Stiles’ hips twitched up into it.

“Oh wow,” Stiles whispered, staring up at Aiden’s face and then dropping his eyes to watch their cocks rub together. “Wow, that is—”

“Yeah,” Aiden breathed, equally breathless. “That feels real good, babe.”

Stiles laughed. It wasn’t funny, but there was something impossibly big growing in his chest that he wanted to express, and laughter felt like the easiest way.

Then, Aiden squeezed his hand together a bit tighter, and it was over. It didn’t matter that it was too dry or that Aiden’s fingers kept catching on the rim of his glans. It all felt too good, made even better by the heady warmth inside his chest and the way it was mixing in with the white-hot arousal pulsing through his belly.

Aiden’s hand stroked up, Stiles’ hips twitched, and then he was coming in hot, messy spurts of come that coated his belly. He groaned lowly, closing his eyes to let the pleasure wash over him, focusing on how good it felt even though Aiden’s grip was loose and clumsy.

Once he was spent and his balls were tingling, he reached out and gently tugged on Aiden’s sac. His balls were drawn up tight, so Stiles started to gently pull at them, rubbing his thumb up and digging into the base of Aiden’s shaft. 

When Aiden growled, he focused and got to watch his boyfriend come live and in person, which was hot enough that he came a little more. He growled through his orgasm as he shot over Stiles’ chest and belly.

Stiles hummed, making a pleased noise in the back of his throat as his eyes shot from Aiden’s cock up to his face and back, wanting to take in everything.

“Holy shit,” Ethan whispered. Stiles looked over and made a questioning noise when Ethan pulled his hand away.

Then, he pulled his cock out of his boxers and tucked the band beneath his balls.

It was seriously hot.

With all the brain power that Stiles had left, he flapped his hand to the side. At first, it hit Ethan’s stomach, but then he moved it down toward his crotch. He got a bit distracted playing with the curly hairs around Ethan’s cock, and the other boy made an absolutely amazing noise after a particularly hard tug.

Which was something that Stiles was so going to focus on later. For now, he loosely wrapped his fingers around the base of Ethan’s dick, giving it a gentle squeeze as Ethan kept stroking himself.

“C’mon, baby,” Stiles whispered, mouthing at the skin of Ethan’s shoulder. “I want to see you come for me.”

“Fuck,” Ethan swore, and less than a minute later he was coming in thick, white bursts across his stomach. A pearly glob of come slid down the crease of his flexed abs, and Stiles swiped it up on his thumb before raising his hand to Aiden. “Oh fuck,” Ethan said again, a few more dribbles of come slipping down his shaft.

“Gold star,” Stiles slurred. “This was better than clothed orgasms.”

The twins laughed, and Stiles felt a smile slip across his face even as he drifted right into sleep.

“Have you managed to find anything about the sacrifices?”

Beacon Brews was a small, independent coffee shop that Stiles used to frequent with his mom. He still came often enough now, and he and the twins would swing by after school for a pre-homework boost most days.

Today was a Sunday, and Stiles was doing a mid-morning coffee run for the pack.

Which was still pretty surreal.

Peter was with him, and since it was their first time being alone, Stiles figured he’d take the opportunity to find out if Peter had found anything.

“No,” Peter growled. There was a dark look on his face that Stiles didn’t like. “I’ve searched through two bloody grimoires and I’ve found nothing. I know that whatever I need is right there but I can’t—”

When Peter cut himself off with another low growl, Stiles reached forward and grabbed his hand.

Peter’s eyes were electric blue when he looked up, and Stiles was glad they were tucked into a corner while they waited for their very large drink order.

“Hey, it’s okay that you haven’t found anything yet.”

“I said—”

“It’s okay,” Stiles said again, firmer. “Being pack isn’t conditional on you figuring this out for us, Peter. You’re already pack.”

The older man’s eyes seemed to glow even brighter as his hand flexed under Stiles’ fingers. There was something fragile about his expression

A small, honest smile twisted beneath his villain goatee, and Stiles smiled at him widely.

Yeah. they were totally figuring out this whole pack thing.

“Something doesn’t feel right.”

The orchestra was playing something, but Stiles was pretty sure it wasn’t whatever song they were supposed to be playing. The longer it went on, the more intense it seemed to get. 

“Lydia is gone,” Stiles breathed, scanning the crowd to see if anything else was noticeably wrong.

It was just that. It was even weirder that Stiles hadn’t seen her leave, since he had been doing his best to keep his eye on everyone he knew. He didn’t know why or if it even meant anything, but he had a bad feeling about tonight.

“Do we need to go?” Aiden asked mulishly. Stiles knew that Aiden felt pretty awkward about the failed flirting attempt Deucalion had demanded of them.

Stiles thought it was pretty funny that the twins had been directed to seduce Danny and Lydia for information and had ended up with him, but that definitely wasn’t what he needed to focus on.

“Well, every time she’s alone she seems to find a dead body,” Stiles muttered.

Then, he stood up. He quickly excused himself as he left his seat, knowing that the twins were following him without having to turn around. He could see Boyd and Erica getting up from their spot further up in the audience, and also ignored Scott, who was standing at the back of the auditorium and watching them all with a frown.

He didn’t matter. Not right now. He could do his own thing, but Stiles had a pack at his back, and he didn’t need Scott’s help.

Once the five of them were together, he quickly ushered them into the hallway outside the auditorium and they crowded in close.

“Where is she?” Stiles asked Erica.

The she-wolf rolled her eyes, but she still tilted her head towards the ceiling as her nostrils flared. A second later, she said, “She went upstairs. Follow me.”

They made their way down the hall quickly, Erica taking lead with Ethan as Aiden and Boyd fell a half-step behind Stiles. He rolled his eyes at the protective formation but didn’t say anything about it since it made his heart feel all gooey and warm. He had a knife strapped to his forearm and a small blade on his ankle, but he’d left all his guns at home.

He was cursing himself for it now. Of course the Darach would strike at a time like this.

They hurried down the hall, turning a corner towards the staircase when—

The wolves fell to their knees, clutching at their ears as a scream resonated down the hall. Stiles winced, staggering back a few steps and throwing out an arm to catch himself against the wall while his head exploded in pain. It was clear that the wolves were more than just disoriented; they were still clutching their ears, and the twins were hunched over with their heads pressed against the tiled floor. Pushing himself off the wall, Stiles took a few deep breaths as the scream continued to ring through his ears.

It was Lydia. It had to be Lydia. He stumbled forward, laying a hand on Aiden’s shoulder because he was the closest. There wasn’t anything that he could do for them, not when his own ears were still ringing with the force of whatever the hell had just happened.

He was opening his mouth to say something when Aiden pushed himself up onto a forearm.

“Go,” Aiden growled, and Stiles spared his wolves a quick glance before he took off in a dead sprint down the hallway.

His Alpha wouldn't tell him to do something if it wasn’t important.

He took the stairs two at a time, thankful for his height as he used the railing to pull himself up faster. Something wasn’t right. Something really wasn’t right, but he didn't know what it was. There was just something heavy in his chest, and as he burst through the doors at the top of the stairs, he did his best to calm down so he’d actually be useful when he found Lydia.

It only took him a few steps before he heard the murmur of voices. It was hard to hear anything over his still-ringing ears, but it was enough. He grabbed the blade from his forearm, twisting it around until he held the knife flat against his pulse.

Walking quietly, Stiles felt his heart drop when he realized who he was hearing before he entered the classroom.

“Dad?” Stiles asked, “What are you—”

“That’s enough of you,” Blake muttered. Before Stiles could even say anything, she flicked her hand to the side, and a second later Stiles went flying.

The impact rocked through him, his head bouncing against the wall as his vision went spotty. He felt himself slide down to the floor, but the ringing in his ears was worse than before and now he couldn’t even seem to string together a thought.

Was he concussed? Would he know if he was concussed? He could see Lydia tied up on a chair, their fucking supply teacher standing beside her, but he didn’t get what was going on. This had to be important, right? There were a lot of things that were important right now and Stiles was trying to remember what they all were, because if they were important he probably shouldn't forget them.

The roaring bang of a gunshot pulled Stiles’ focus back to the present. He blinked rapidly, his vision fuzzy around the edges as he glanced up at his dad.

His dad.

“Healers,” Ms. Blake’s voice was echoing around the room, sounding like she was talking from far away. Stiles wasn’t sure why.

All of a sudden, his dad was right there. Not right in front of him, but right in front of Ms. Blake, who was smiling what was obviously a very evil smile. It was made all the eviler when she grabbed the knife in his dad’s shoulder and lifted him off the ground.

His gun clattering to the ground seemed to echo, too.

Then, she shoved him back into a stack of chairs.

“No!” he yelled. Or he tried to. His mouth felt like it was full of cotton. Coppery cotton.

“Warriors,” she said, before ripping off his dad’s badge. She crushed the metal in her fist as she said, “Guardians.”

Then, she kissed him. Ms. Blake kissed his dad. Ms. Blake kissed his dad?

“How hard did I hit my head?” Stiles slurred, trying to force himself to focus even over the pounding headache that was making him feel super dizzy.

And then—

“Dad,” Stiles whispered, into the empty air, his heart rate kicking up against his chest.

The room was empty. Ms. Blake was gone, but his dad was gone too. His… his dad was gone.

His dad was gone.

The classroom door burst open, the wood splintering apart. The twins burst through the door, Volty hurrying to him as Erica and Boyd rushed over to release Lydia. Stiles watched it happen, but it all felt like it was happening to someone else.

He still couldn’t focus. His ears were ringing.

His eyes were burning.

“Stiles? Stiles, baby, are you okay?” Volty asked, their big hand gentle as they lifted Stiles’ chin up to look at his head.

“My dad,” he whispered, a tear sliding down his cheek. “She took my dad.”

He was all alone.

“Where’s my dad?”

Stiles hated the way his voice cracked.

“How should I know?” Ms. Blake asked, her face the perfect picture of innocence. She turned back to Derek, and said, “Derek, don’t tell me you believe this.”

“Do you know what happened to Stiles’s father?” Derek asked, and Stiles almost screamed.

They needed to find his dad. They needed to find his dad before Stiles was finding a body.

“No, I—”

“We were only here to give you a chance,” Ethan snarled, stepping out of the shadows. “We’ve heard about you from Kali, about the woman you’d been as an emissary, about how much it hurt her to kill you. But it’s clear the darkness has filled you too completely.”

“It’s a shame,” Aiden said, his voice light. “Because we might have even let you live.”

“What are you—”

“Where is Stiles’ father?” Ethan demanded, his voice nothing but a low, grumbling growl of Alpha that simmered through Stiles’ blood.

She didn’t say anything at first. The silence stretched out through Derek’s near-empty loft. It was raining. Stiles would probably always remember that it was raining. If he found his dad’s body, Stiles thought he would simply wash away into nothing.

“You need me,” Ms. Blake told Derek. Her eyes were wide and fearful. Stiles’ fingers itched for his gun, but he hadn’t stopped at home. “You need me to save Cora.”

“Mistletoe poisoning,” Stiles said quietly. “Peter is already working on a cure.”

“What?” Derek asked sharply. His eyes flashed red, and the twins both growled in response.

“I spoke to him before I got here. It… we saw Allison as we left the school. She mentioned mistletoe. It jogged a memory,” Stiles explained. At least, he tried to explain. His head was still pounding and his heart was still racing and all he wanted was to find his dad.

“Thank you,” Derek breathed, before he shot his arm out and wrapped his fingers around Ms. Blake’s throat. “So tell me why I shouldn’t crush your neck right now?”

Ms. Blake’s face went dark. Something rippled across her skin, and suddenly Stiles was staring at the misshapen face of something that was barely human. He stumbled back a step, and his shoulder hit Aiden’s chest. He took a deep breath as he watched the Darach watch them, and he pulled as much strength from the warmth in his chest as he possibly could.

His dad was gone, but Stiles wasn’t going to just let her get away with it.

“Mistletoe can work for you, but it can work against you, too,” Stiles said quietly, quickly grabbing a handful of dust from his pocket and blowing with all his might and all his belief.

Thunder boomed through the loft, and Stiles watched as the cloud of dust seemed to blow through the loft as if picked up by a breeze. For a second, for a quiet, single second, he thought it might work. That his plan might actually do something.

But between one breath and the next, Ms. Blake was gone.

“I can hear them.”

Stiles sucked in a sharp breath even as he tightened the grip his thighs had on Volty’s waist. He totally ignored how emasculating it felt to have to get his boyfriends’ merged Alpha form to give him a piggyback ride because he was too slow, and instead he tried to take a deep breath in a desperate attempt to stave off another panic attack.

It sort of worked. But as much as Stiles believed in his boyfriends, he worried about his dad even more. When Ms. Blake turned out to be a no-go, Stiles had nearly slipped directly into a panic attack. It was only the twins’ steady presence and the way Derek was staring at the three of them like he had no idea what he was seeing that had kept him from freaking out.

Then, Aiden had said they would have enough juice to track his dad. It took Stiles a second to realize that “juice” likely meant stolen Alpha power, and he’d handed over his dad’s crumbled badge as soon as he’d realized.

Ethan had flattened it out clumsily, but it was better than nothing.

Now, Stiles was being carried in a piggyback as Volty sprinted through the woods. They took a sharp turn, and between one blink and the next, they were standing in a large clearing, a huge tree stump several feet in front of them.

“They’re down there,” Volty growled, and without even thinking about it, Stiles slipped off their back and rushed toward the cellar door.

It was pouring rain, and the wind whipped around so fast it was painful against his bare cheeks. Stiles did his best to push that aside as he watched the dirt roll with something that had to be magic. There was a giant tree stump ahead of him, but he didn’t pay it any mind.

All of his attention was zeroed in on the open wooden door, and the underground cave it revealed.

Then, he heard his dad’s voice call out, and he sprinted forward.

The mess of roots was easy to avoid. Stiles noticed that the ground atop the cellar was shaking the most, which definitely meant nothing good for his dad. Stiles slid down the root-covered drop, hissing in pain as he hit his injured thigh at the bottom. He didn’t stop though, pushing himself forward as he brought his bat up and—

“Holy shit,” he breathed, slumping forward with relief when the mental baseball bat held the roof from caving in. “Holy shit, get moving!”

The adults didn’t need to be told twice. Chris Argent went first, followed closely by Melissa, which was so not okay. What the hell was the Darach up to? She was supposed to be gathering guardians, why the hell did she…

Parent or Guardian. The signature slot of countless permission forms flashed behind his eyes, and Stiles bit of a cuss when he realized why she’d gathered these three. And fuck, that just pissed him off even more. Not only had she taken his dad, but she’d taken Melissa, too.

But he had more important things to focus on for now. Like getting them safe.

“Thank you, honey,” Melissa told him gently as he helped her up and out of the cellar. Volty was at the top, and Stiles watched with amusement as they lifted a protesting Chris out of the chasm. “Is that your boyfriends?”

“Boyfriends?” his dad called from where he was still crawling out of the cellar. Stiles totally ignored him, blushed, and shook his head before snapping at his dad to get moving.

Then he moved forward to help his dad to his feet. 

“We are so talking about all of this when we get home,” his dad hissed, but Stiles didn’t care.

He was alive. He was alive, and he was back.

They’d gotten them back.

“God, there really is no place like home after a magical serial killer kidnaps you and hides you in a magical root cellar, huh?”

“I don’t think this is the time for jokes,” Stiles muttered, glaring at his dad’s back as they walked through their front door.

They were finally home. After they’d gotten the Guardians out of the cellar, Stiles had driven Melissa and Chris home. Volty had run ahead to get things in order, and Dad had made him drive through a McDonald’s so he could get a cheeseburger before they finally made it home. Stiles didn’t really care that they were just getting home, but he did care that his dad was making jokes about being kidnapped.

Which was basically his single greatest supernatural-related fear come to life, and was absolutely not funny.

Just as Stiles was opening his mouth to tell his dad exactly what else he thought about the fact that he was making light of a very traumatizing evening, he ran into his dad’s back. “Hey what’s—”

“Stiles, who the hell are these people?” Dad demanded, his voice serious enough that he quickly cut off his own incoming rant to answer.

“What?” he asked, peeking his head out from behind his dad’s shoulder.

Only to find the living room full of people.

Huh.

Erica and Boyd had Lydia sandwiched between them on the couch. The redhead was looking… honestly, she looked sort of terrible, with a blooming bruise around her throat and mascara smudged around her eyes. But even with that, she was sitting primly, one leg crossed over the other and her head held high. Erica and Boyd looked just like they had when Stiles had left them at the school and asked them to take Lydia home, though Erica had a crease between her brows that meant she was annoyed.

The twins were sitting close together on the loveseat, but there was enough space that Stiles would be able to wiggle between them. Eventually. Maybe. It was one thing to cuddle with his twin boyfriends in the comfort of his own privacy, and something completely different to cuddle with his twin boyfriends in front of his dad. But hey, maybe his dad wouldn’t even notice! After all, Peter was sitting in his dad’s armchair, which his dad was eyeing with a look Stiles couldn’t decipher.

Or maybe he could, but he was too tired to try. His day had been terrible, and he was pretty sure the Darach had concussed him earlier, so there was that.

“Is Cora okay?” Stiles asked before anything else. He moved into the living room and laid a hand on Peter’s shoulder, giving it a steady squeeze.

The beta tilted his head back, so Stiles covered his neck with his palm. He watched Peter take a deep breath, and some of the tension still lining his body slipped away. “Darling, you are a genius. The antidote seems to be working perfectly. I only recently left her in the care of Derek and his bouncy beta.”

Stiles snorted at Isaac’s description and wondered what the hell he’d done to earn such a nickname. He gave the back of Peter’s neck another tight squeeze, and then said, “I’m glad she’s okay.”

“Stiles!” his dad snapped, and Stiles spun around on his heel to find him glaring.

Oh, right.

“It’s the pack!” Stiles told him, lifting an arm to gesture to the living room.

“The pack?” his dad asked. He didn’t look impressed.

Stiles did his best to explain, since he totally understood that this was all really new. “Yeah? Like… ya know, like a wolf pack.”

“Of werewolves,” his dad stated flatly.

“Yes?” Stiles said, stretching out the word. “Dad, did you hit your head?”

Dad threw his hands up and stomped out of the living room. Stiles watched him go with a frown, wondering what it was he’d said.

Before Stiles could say anything, Peter was at his side. His hand was warm on his back, but he was already looking after his dad.

“Let me, pup,” Peter murmured.

Stiles watched his back as he stepped forward. He had no idea what was going on there, but he figured there had to be something happening. Peter probably wasn’t being helpful just because he was the only other adult. Sure, they’d all realized that Peter was incredibly pack-minded, but he wasn’t exactly the most helpful when no one’s life was at risk.

Shrugging, Stiles turned around and quickly shuffled his way over to the loveseat and the tiny sliver of space left for him. He wedged himself in between the twins’ thighs, letting himself get squished between their bulk. It wasn’t the most comfortable seating arrangement, but as the twins’ supernatural heat sunk into his tired bones, Stiles felt his body go limp.

“Mhm,” Stiles hummed, rubbing his hands up and down the twins’ thighs. “This is nice.”

“Nice? What the hell is going on?” Lydia demanded sharply, her voice cutting through his newfound calm.

Stiles blinked. Then blinked a few more times. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, what is going on!” she repeated loudly.

“Lydia, are you okay?” Stiles asked softly, since she wasn’t really making sense and if there was one thing Lydia was good at, it was making sense.

Clearly, that was the wrong thing to say. Her face went dark, and she sounded absolutely murderous when she said, “So help me, Stilinski, I will drive my heel right through your—

Erica growled loudly enough to cut her off, and Stiles sent her a look. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to be rude. I just figured that Erica and Boyd would have filled you in on what was going on.”

“They told me a crazy story about me being some sort of supernatural creature and evil magical users!”

“… is that crazier than our supply teacher trying to ritualistically sacrifice you for a reason that isn’t magical?” Stiles asked slowly, tilting his head to the side as he considered it himself. Honestly, magic was probably more believable. “I mean, you know about werewolves. Is the rest so farfetched?”

Lydia didn’t answer. Instead, she crossed her arms over her chest and glared at the room. Stiles wasn’t totally sure if he should say something or do something. He couldn’t imagine what it must be like to have to realize you weren’t fully human. Hell, Stiles had the barest wisps of magic, and even that had taken him a few months to really accept and utilize. It turned out that Lydia was a banshee, and that was probably a lot different than a little spark of belief.

But they’d deal with it. If there was nothing else, Stiles was confident that he and the twins would deal with it if they needed to.

“I think we should have pizza,” Aiden muttered, pulling out his phone and clicking around.

“That is such a good idea, babe,” Stiles told him, moaning graphically at the thought just to annoy the others.

As he expected, Boyd made a low, disgusted noise as Erica whined about getting a room, and Stiles laughed as something settled in his chest.

This was his pack.

They were his.

When his dad and Peter came back into the living room, they were standing close together. Suspiciously close together. So close together that Stiles decided he absolutely did not want to know.

Instead, he focused on the lines that seemed to be etched into his dad’s face. He looked older than Stiles remembered, like something was weighing him down. Stiles knew what it was—after all, he’d been drowning under the weight of it for nearly a year.

“Is there anything else you want to tell me?” his dad asked him slowly.

“Nope,” Stiles said quickly. Then, Ethan coughed, Aiden sent him a look, and Dad’s glare became so intense Stiles withered under it. Ugh! “Aiden and Ethan have been living here for the last few weeks!”

Dad’s eyes narrowed. Stiles tried to sink further into the couch. Peter snickered, the dick.

“How many weeks?” his dad asked him slowly, but it felt like a test.

“Uhm. A few of them?”

“Stiles,” his dad growled. It was actually considerably wolfish, and Stiles rolled his eyes as he shot Peter a look the older man didn’t return.

Taking a deep breath, he slowly said, “I mean does it really matter how long I was sneaking them in for?”

“Dear god,” Dad groaned. He ran a hand down his face, and it only served to make him look older. “Where the hell have they been staying? Please, for the love of god, tell me the guest room.”

“Uhm, no, Sheriff, sir. W-We’ve been using his room, sir,” Ethan said. Politely. Like a polite little wolf who was evil.

Stiles glared at him.

His dad groaned again.

Well, at least everyone was alive?

“You should have told me.”

The house was still and silent. The rest of the pack had left, but Aiden and Ethan were up in his room. That was the reason Stiles was standing awkwardly in the kitchen entryway, his dad sitting at the kitchen table with a glass of apple juice in front of him in a short whiskey glass.

He didn’t know why his dad did that, but he wasn't going to ask.

“Look, I know. Dad, I hated lying, but if you knew you would have wanted to know,” Stiles stressed, trying to articulate the reason he kept everything so close to his chest. No matter how badly he may have wanted to, he couldn’t tell his dad.

Not when the truth was so dangerous.

“That wasn’t your decision to make, Stiles!” Dad scolded him. The crease between his eyebrows never meant anything good for him, but he held his ground.

“Of course it was!” Stiles insisted. “If I had told you, you would have wanted to get involved, and when you get involved with the supernatural, the supernatural gets involved with you!”

Why couldn’t he see that? All Stiles had ever done was try to keep his dad safe. Sure, he’d had to tell some lies, but it was better than his dad knowing the truth! There was no way that the Sheriff would have been satisfied with staying out of things, and Stiles had already gone through enough as the token human.

What if the hunters had decided to take the local Sheriff instead of some lowly teenager? What if they’d wanted to show Scott and Derek that they weren’t safe, that they could do whatever they wanted and decided that a dead lawman was a more effective message?

No. No, Stiles hadn’t been able to tell him the truth. Not when it would have hurt him.

But his dad was just as stubborn as he was, and he held his ground.

“I’m the parent here. I’m supposed to be taking care of you, not the other way around,” his dad told him, his tone reprimanding, and Stiles… something in Stiles’ chest snapped open.

“But you didn’t!” Stiles shouted, his voice cracking as his eyes rapidly filled with tears out of nowhere. He took a gasping breath that did nothing to calm himself down, and fisted his hands at his sides. “You didn’t take care of me! I had to learn how to take care of the both of us and I was only el—” his voice broke into a sob, and he wrapped his arms around his waist in a desperate attempt to keep himself together. “I was eleven, and I had to learn to take care of the both of us.”

“Stiles—” his dad started, his eyes wide and his skin quickly going pale.

“No!” he demanded, cutting him off. “You don’t get to tell me that I’m not supposed to be taking care of you, not when I had to.”

His dad’s face crumbled apart, looking even paler than before as he rocked back in his chair. Stiles watched as the devastation seemed to etch lines into his dad’s skin, and his chest ached as he saw his dad start to cry.

He hadn’t seen his dad cry in years.

“Kiddo,” his dad said, and then cut himself off with a ragged cough. “K-Kiddo, you’re right. You did have to step up, and you never should have.”

“I didn’t mind—” Stiles said softly, a distant sort of numbness spreading across his bones.

“But you should have.” Dad pushed himself up from the table, his shoulder looking heavy as they curled inward. Stiles didn’t know what to do, what to say, not when this had been building for the last five years. “You were a kid. You’re still a kid and I—I failed you.”

“Daddy,” he whispered, eyes finally spilling over.

But then Dad was stepping around the table and opening his arms, and Stiles dove forward. Hugging his dad always felt good, but there was something different about the desperate way they clutched at each other. Stiles could barely breathe through the pressure of his dad’s arms around him, but it was absolutely perfect.

He held his dad back just as tightly and he forced away the thoughts of a time long past. His dad was right, probably. Stiles shouldn’t have had to take care of them, but even after his dad had pulled himself far enough out of a bottle that Melissa had let him go home, his dad hadn’t been fully functioning.

Stiles needed to step up to keep them going, and it had changed their parent-child dynamic in a way that Stiles didn’t think they’d ever be able to go back from.

But they’d grown. They fit together now better than they had before. And wrapped up in the safety of his dad’s arms, Stiles pushed away the memories of the past and focused on what he had now. His dad was here, safe and in his arms, and at least now that he knew, Stiles had an entire pack at his side that would help keep him safe.

After several minutes of prime-quality Stilinski bear-hugging, his dad pulled back. His face was blotchy, flushed like Stiles’ did when he was emotional. His eyes were still wet but his cheeks were dry, so Stiles let him pull back until his dad was simply holding onto his shoulders.

“Do you… what about Chris Argent? You said he’s a hunter, yeah?” Dad asked him with a curious tilt of his head.

“Yeah? But he’s kind of a dick and Allison went insane last year,” Stiles said. Then, he added, “She seems mostly okay this year? But Scott became a major douche so I don't really know what’s going on there.”

“Don’t worry about him,” Dad told him. There was a glint in his eye that Stiles saw in the mirror every time he started planning something mischievous. “Besides, I’m sure I won’t be going anywhere alone anytime soon.”

“Peter did seem to stick close to you tonight,” Stiles pointed out, wondering what the hell that had been about.

“We knew each other… god, it feels like a lifetime ago now,” his dad said, chuckling at some sort of memory. “We knew each other before the fire.”

Stiles didn’t ask about that, since he wasn’t totally sure he wanted to know what the wistful quality of Dad’s tone meant. It was enough that he had his dad back, safe and sound and alive.

“Do you want to talk about it? That was… that was pretty intense, baby.”

Ethan’s voice was a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through the bed. Stiles blinked his eyes open to find the other boy already watching him. It was hard to make out his features in the low light of his room.

After he and Dad had finally said goodnight, his dad hadn’t said anything about the twins or the fact that they’d been sleeping in his bed for weeks. Stiles had been expecting something since he first admitted to it, but his dad hadn’t said something then and he hadn’t said anything when the pack slowly filtered out of their house. Then he still hadn’t anything as they’d puttered around and cleaned up before they had their… talk.

Stiles wasn’t sure what to call it. It hadn’t been a fight. They’d been having a lot of fights ever since Stiles had started lying about the supernatural, and whatever it was that happened in the kitchen wasn’t exactly that.

“Not really,” Stiles murmured, his voice low in the quiet of night, “but I probably should.”

“You don’t have to,” Aiden told him seriously. He squeezed the arm he had wrapped around Stiles’ waist, holding him tightly against his chest. “We’ll listen if you want to tell us, but you don’t have to.

“No, I… I should.” Taking a deep breath, Stiles reached forward to tangle his fingers around Ethan’s. “Uhm. So my mom died a while ago. When I was eleven. Frontotemporal dementia, which was—” Stiles cut himself off with a laugh that wasn’t funny at all. “It sucked. She lost herself. Lost who she was, but she lost us, too. There were times when it wasn’t too bad, and then there were times when she thought I was a monster trying to kill her. Which… wasn’t fun.”

The twins moved closer as one, crowding him in between their warm bulk. Stiles sank into it, squeezing Ethan’s hand and pressing back against Aiden’s chest to pull comfort. “It sucked. It sucked even more because Dad… he kinda checked out. Melissa kept me at hers for… god, I don’t even know how long I stayed there. But it was a long time. Long enough for Dad to mostly pull himself out of a bottle, but not… not long enough for him to really be around.”

“He was sober, but he was still just so sad. And I was sad too. God, I still haven’t worked through all of it, but Dad… if I didn’t cook, he didn’t eat anything. If I didn’t clean, no one did. He just—he was a shell of himself. A shell of my dad. I—”

“You had to take care of both of you,” Aiden summed up quietly, his lips brushing Stiles’ neck. It brought him a measure of comfort, but it only did so much.

“I had to take care of both of us,” Stiles agreed.

Then, he didn’t have anything else to say. So instead of speaking, he pulled on Ethan’s hand until the boy scooted closer. Once he was, Stiles wrapped his arm around his waist and urged him closer, giving him a soft kiss before pushing him onto his back.

It was easy to curl up against his chest, and Aiden followed him down with the way he was still plastered to Stiles’ chest. Sometimes it was awkward to find a position for them to really cuddle in, but as he closed his eyes and tried to push away thoughts about the past, he sunk into their comforting hold.

It didn't matter. His dad was still whole and healthy and strong, and now he knew. Which, while terrifying, at least meant that he was going to start taking steps to keep himself safe.

It was better than nothing, and Stiles focused on the warmth of his pack as he drifted to sleep, surrounded by the secure warmth of his Alphas.

“So, just to be clear, you’ve already dealt with two of the werewolves in this so-called Alpha pack. And you’ve dealt with them in a way I definitely should not ask about.”

“Exactly,” Stiles said, letting out a breath of relief.

His dad had woken up at the crack of dawn and started interrogating him and the twins about everything that had happened over the last year and some change. Stiles had been honest. Even when being honest really, really sucked, Stiles had told his dad the truth about everything that had gone on.

The twins had filled in the parts that they knew, talking about the initial plans the Alpha pack had and how Stiles had gotten them to change sides just by showing them care.

(Which had been really embarrassing, because Stiles had gotten a very confusing emotional boner that had caused his face to go beet red when Ethan had been telling his dad just how much Stiles befriending them had meant after their lifetime of abuse.)

Now, his dad was up to speed and the rest of the pack was sitting around them, sprawled out around the living room.

“Right. We’re going to revisit that one, kid,” his dad told him with a stern look, but he dropped it for now.

Which was great, ‘cause while his dad was definitely reading between the lines, Stiles didn’t exactly want to fess up to murder.

“Okay. So you dealt with two of them, but there’s still an Alpha left?” Dad asked the room.

“Deucalion Blackwood,” Peter said. He was sitting beside Dad on the loveseat. What was even weirder, is that when Stiles and his dad had walked into the living room with drinks for everyone, his dad had gone to the loveseat to sit next to Peter instead of sitting in his usual armchair.

Suspicious.

Very suspicious.

“Do you know him?” his dad asked, his voice sharp.

“Oh, biblically,” Peter said, snorting when Dad let out a noise that Stiles definitely ignored. “He was allied with Talia before the fire. Back then, he was… influential, yes, but he was also quite peaceful. In fact, he insisted that weres’ needed to live peacefully among the hunters in order to continue prospering.”

“Wait, so why did he become… whatever the hell he is now?” Stiles asked. He and the twins were on the couch, which was pretty much their designated spot, and Stiles had his legs crossed under him with each knee pressing into a twins’ thigh. “I’m pretty sure trying to kill a bunch of teenagers isn’t exactly the epitome of a peaceful dictatorship.”

“He was blinded.” There was a note of emotion in Peter’s voice that made him think he had really known Deucalion. Stiles made a mental note to check in with him later, especially considering the way his dad’s expression soured. “He had gathered a few other Alphas who believed in his cause. Funnily enough, Ennis Wade was one of those Alphas.”

Peter took a shuddering breath, and they all waited for him to keep going. “Talia didn’t believe in unity like that. We’d had our own run-ins with Hunters over the years, and that was before they burned our family to the ground. But as I’ve said, I was the Left Hand to one of the largest packs in North America, and Deucalion convinced Talia to allow the use of our territory for a peace meeting.”

“I’m guessing it wasn’t very peaceful,” Stiles murmured, meeting Peter’s eyes when the man snorted.

“The meeting was with Gerard Argent.”

Boyd started growling lowly, the sound echoing around the room. Stiles leaned forward until he could touch the boy’s head, running a hand down his prickly scalp and then squeezing his shoulder when he quieted. “We know what Gerard is like.”

“That you do,” Peter agreed, tipping his head forward. “Instead of signing a treaty, Gerard used a baseball bat covered in stolen claws to kill his men and blind Deucalion. It was… it was terrible.”

“And since then he’s been crazy?” Stiles asked quietly, tasting ash in his mouth.

“His beta tried to take his Alpha spark from him after he’d been blinded,” Aiden told the room. “Deucalion told the story a number of times. He always sounded proud that he killed his beta instead.”

“Well that’s gross and ableist,” Stiles pointed out. “Not to, like, defend him when he’s obviously batshit crazy. Just saying. That wasn't really the move, ya know?”

“Peter,” his dad said, his tone firm. “Are you sure there’s nothing we could do to turn him around?”

Peter didn’t answer right away. Rather, he seemed to really think about the question, which was probably just his dad’s influence. There was definitely something going on. Stiles wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

“No.” Peter let out a breath and turned to look at his dad. “This isn’t the human world, Jonathan. We aren’t governed by laws the way you would like us to be. Deucalion killed his pack. I… there’s nothing I can even think of that would capture the severity of what that means, but the man he once was is gone.”

“Right. Right, I—” Dad cut himself off with a noise that hurt Stiles’ heart as he pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath. “Fuck, kiddo, I just said it was my job to protect you, I—”

“Sheriff Stilinski,” Aiden interrupted. He was sitting up straight, and his eyes were steady as he looked at his dad. “My brother and I are the Alphas of this pack. The red eyes mean something to us. It’s more than just extra strength to throw around.”

“It’s responsibility,” Ethan added, sounding just as serious. “This pack is our responsibility, and we’ll do whatever it takes to keep you all safe.”

“I will too,” Stiles said, raising his hand a little between them even though both twins turned to glare at him. “I’m pretty sure Lydia is going to be our emissary if she wants it, but I’m… something. And I take it just as seriously. This isn’t about me taking care of you or you not taking care of me—”

“It’s about the three of us taking care of our pack,” Aiden said, squeezing Stiles’ knee tightly when his voice broke.

“And we can do that together,” Ethan finished with a small smile. “There are things in this world you might not want to be involved in, and that’s okay. I can promise that when we can, we’ll do things as close to the law as possible.”

“Okay,” his dad sighed. “I appreciate that. If we’re a pack,” Stiles’ heart totally did a little flutter at that, “then we’re in this together.”

“All of us?” Erica asked from her place on the floor. She didn’t look upset or worried, just curious.

“All of us,” Stiles agreed.

A comfortable, weighted sort of silence rang out between them. Stiles made sure to make eye contact with Boyd and Peter, giving the older man a small nod and a smaller smile before he caught his dad’s eye.

They had still more to work through. They were definitely going to be talking about whatever was going on between his dad and Peter, and they were also probably going to have to talk about the way the twins were literally living with him, but for the first time in almost a year, Stiles felt like they had the time.

Sure, there were two homicidal maniacs after them for totally different reasons, but he had his dad. He had his pack. Whatever it was, they’d face it together.

“Peter,” Aiden said, turning to beta. “Can you find out what we need to know?”

Peter rolled his eyes even as he leaned back in his seat. It brought him into the cradle of his dad’s arm, which Stiles definitely noticed and noted and said nothing about.

“Do try to remember that I was the Left Hand to one of the largest packs in North America,” Peter told them with a smug smirk on his face.

Stiles rolled his eyes even as he shared a fond look with his dad, which was even weirder. “Sure thing, Peter. Next time we actually won’t show any care for your well-being.” 

Peter blinked once. Twice. Three more times. “Very well. I guess I’ll allow the doubt if it stems from worry.”

Stiles snorted.

“Well, we have a starting point,” Stiles said, shrugging his shoulders when everyone turned to look at him. “I guess we should probably do some homework?”

“What the hell, Batman?” Erica hissed, her face pinching into something like disgust.

“What? We have school tomorrow!”

“Yeah, but our English teacher is an evil Darach? Should we even go?” Erica asked. She was totally just trying to get out of doing homework, but it was a pretty good point.

“Eh, I mean we’ll probably be fine. There’s a lunar eclipse coming up that she’s probably planning for,” Stiles said. Plus, he was pretty sure she couldn’t use the same sacrifices twice, and rescuing the Guardians would’ve put a major block in her plan.

Hopefully, anyway.

Then, suddenly, Peter hissed, “What?”

“What what?” Stiles asked, looking at his face curiously and wondering what had upset him so quickly.

“There’s a lunar eclipse coming up?” Peter demanded, his voice angry.

“Uhm, yeah? Shouldn’t you, like, be aware of that?” Stiles asked. Then, he realized how that sounded, but the damage was already done.

Peter went stiff, and in an almost snarl, said, “I’ve been a little busy keeping my remaining family from dying.”

Before Stiles could apologize, his dad grabbed the back of Peter’s neck and roughly tugged him back into his frame. Peter immediately went loose, his whole body draining of tension in a way Stiles definitely didn’t need to see, since it was pinging a lot of different ideas that he did not want to be thinking about.

“We’re okay,” Dad said soothingly, and Peter blinked his eyes closed as he completely relaxed into his dad’s side. “Peter will find out what he can about Deucalion’s movements. Jennifer Blake was a registered name, so I’ll get a patrol set up around her apartment and around the school, just in case. The lunar eclipse is next weekend, and that sounds important. We’ll meet up again on Wednesday night and make a plan.”

“Sounds good, Alpha Daddio,” Stiles teased, sending him a wink. “Way to pull rank as a pack Elder.”

His dad gave up a look that meant he was very unimpressed, and Stiles threw his head back and laughed.

It was good.

“So, I hadn’t realized you were the one who stole my boyfriend, but I guess it makes sense why I never got more than a first date.”

Stiles sputtered as he spun around, smacking his arm against the cool metal of his locker when his momentum carried him a little too far. He cussed, wincing as he rubbed his wrist. That was definitely going to bruise.

When he finally looked up, Danny was laughing at him. “Hey! That’s not funny!”

“It’s a little funny,” Danny countered. And then, because he was literally the embodiment of everything good and pure, he asked, “Are you okay?”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. It’s just my pride.”

“You have pride?” Danny asked him, looking genuinely surprised even though he was just being a dick.

“Oh, ho, ho, the boy’s got jokes,” Stiles muttered, but he wasn’t really hurt. Unlike Jackson and Co, Danny was actually a really nice guy, and joking around was exactly what he was doing.

“Guess you finally found out that you were attractive to gay guys, huh?” Danny teased him, his eyes sparkling like he was some kind of Prince Charming. “And straight guys. I’m impressed.”

“Bisexual, actually,” Stiles told him with a smirk.

“Huh,” Danny muttered. “And twins?”

“Oh, Danny boy, you have no idea,” he said. With a lot of emphasis.

Thankfully, Danny threw his head back and laughed. Which was the exact reaction that Stiles had been hoping for, so he grinned and was very glad that the hallways were empty. School had ended a while ago, but his dad was in the office with the twins, getting their new paperwork sorted out.

Even though the twins were apparently emancipated, his dad was getting their address and medical contacts updated. Because apparently, his dad was literally the single best man in the entire world, and as soon as he’d heard the twins’ history, he’d basically adopted them.

Also, he wasn’t making them move out of Stiles’ room, so wins all around!

When he calmed down, Danny’s face went serious.

“Listen, I’m glad he found someone he can obviously share his… extracurricular activities with,” Danny told him honestly. He took a step closer, shifting his backpack higher onto his shoulder, and said, “Look, I don’t know exactly what’s going on, but I know something is going on. Last year, Scott McCall went from an asthmatic benchwarmer to co-captain of the lacrosse team without an inhaler in sight. Weird shit kept happening around town, and then at the Winter Formal Lydia got attacked. I saw you and Allison’s dad at the hospital—I wasn’t actually close enough to hear anything, but it seemed… tense.”

“Then all of a sudden Jackson’s going crazy, Lydia’s having a drawn-out mental breakdown, and some kid we went to preschool with is a mass murderer.” Danny blew out a breath as a look of frustration crossed his face. “That’s not even all of it, and Jackson fucked off to London without telling me so I don’t really care, but I know there’s something going on, and whatever it is has always been centred around you.”

“I…”

“You don’t have to tell me,” Danny told him quickly. “That’s not why I said anything. I guess I just…”

Danny trailed off into silence, and at first, Stiles wasn’t sure how to fill it. But then he said, “I’m sorry that Jackson left,” and was surprised at how much he meant it.

“You hate Jackson,” Danny told him in a flat voice.

“Yeah, but you don't,” Stiles told him seriously. He’d never thought to check in on him, but it was so terribly clear that Danny had always known something was going on, and everyone had left him in the dark. Stiles knew how terrible that must feel, and he’d only had a glimpse of it with Scott keeping him in the dark about Gerard.

To know nothing concrete but know enough to understand something was going on with your closest friends?

Maybe… maybe Danny was just lonely?

“Look, something is going down soon, but we should be done with it all over the weekend. Why don’t you come over for dinner on Sunday and you can meet the gang? I—I know that we’re all kinda losers, but we’re pretty cool.”

“You’ve never been a loser, Stiles,” Danny told him with a roll of his eyes. His smile got bigger, though, when he said, “I’d like that, I think.”

“That’s awesome!” Stiles cried. And then, because he was used to hanging around with tactile werewolves, he leaped forward and pulled Danny into a hug.

It was only a second before Danny hugged him back. “Oh my god, how do you even give hugs perfectly? Were you made in a lab?”

Danny laughed as he pulled back, his smile literally radiant. Huh. Maybe Stiles should do some research and see if Danny was something. Cause there was no way a normal human should be able to smile like that.

“You’re absolutely ridiculous,” Danny told him with a roll of his eyes. “Look, I gotta go, but I’ll text you about the weekend.”

“Sure!” Stiles told him. Then, “Wait, you don’t have my number.”

“Don’t worry,” Danny told him, a smirk crossing his face as he backed away. “I’ll text you.”

Stiles rolled his eyes and didn’t deem that crypticness with a response. It was impressive, though, and Stiles wondered how well he’d get along with Erica.

“Hiya, babe,” Aiden called. When Stiles turned towards the end of the wall, the twins were walking towards him, close enough that their shoulders were brushing. “Miss us?”

Stiles snorted even as he finished getting his bag together. By the time the twins were in front of him, his locker was closed and he was ready to go.

“Hey,” he murmured, leaning up for a kiss from Aiden. He was definitely the bigger of the two on public kissing, but Ethan was a fan of snuggling no matter where they were. “How’d it go?”

“It was good,” Aiden told him, nipping at his bottom lip. “We got everything settled at the station and the bank this morning, so we just had to tell the school.”

“That’s good!”

Aiden nodded before he took a deep breath through his nose. His eyes narrowed as he asked, “Was that Danny?”

“Uh-huh,” Stiles said. “He knows about us.”

“What?”

“Well, he doesn’t know you’re werewolves, but he knows that something's up. I think he might be lonely,” Stiles said quietly, thinking back to how Danny had looked when Stiles mentioned Jackson.

Ugh, he was such a douchebag. 

“You want to bring him into the pack, don’t you?” Aiden asked sharply. Stiles swayed back a bit in shock, looking at Aiden closely to figure out what was up.

“Uhm… maybe? If he already knows that something is up, it would be a good idea! He’s really smart,” Stiles told him. After all, Danny was literally going to… acquire his phone number through likely less-than-legal means.

“Oh, he’s so smart, is he?” Aiden growled

“Ignore my brother,” Ethan murmured, wrapping himself around Stiles’ back. His chin rested in the crease of Stiles’ shoulder as his hands slipped under his t-shirt to press against his belly. “Aiden is just jealous that we both think Danny is cute.”

“I am not!” Aiden protested.

Stiles laughed as he leaned back in Ethan’s hold, looking up at the outraged look on Aiden’s face. His heart tripped over itself, but he focused on how good it felt to be here, right now, being held by Ethan as Aiden complained that they were being ridiculous in a way that was definitely meant to make them laugh.

They had a lot ahead of them, but right now? Right now, Stiles was just going to enjoy being a teenager.

“When… when it’s all done, w-what’s going to happen? To us? What’s going to happen to us when it’s all done?”

Stiles looked up from where he was digging through his drawer to find a specific pair of fuzzy socks that he wanted to wear to frown over at his boyfriend. Ethan was sitting on his bed, his back against the headboard and his legs out in front of him. He should look relaxed, but Stiles could see just how tense his entire body was.

“What do you mean?” Stiles asked, his face scrunched up as he turned from his drawer.

“After we’ve dealt with Deucalion and the Darach and you don’t… you won’t need us.”

Stiles blinked rapidly as he tried to make sense of what Ethan was saying, but no matter how many times he replayed the words in his mind, they didn’t make any more sense no matter how many times he went over them.

“I don’t need you now,” Stiles said honestly, crossing over to his bed. “I’m not keeping you two around because I need something from you.”

“But—” Ethan started, but then he bit into his bottom lip like he was keeping himself from saying anything more.

Stiles decided that they were too far away for a conversation like this, so he climbed onto his bed and knee-shuffled until he was straddling Ethan’s lap.

“Baby, where is this even coming from?” he asked quietly, reaching up and running his fingers across Ethan’s shoulders and down his arms.

“I…” Ethan blew out a breath, and the warm minty tang of his breath hit Stiles’ chin.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Stiles told him seriously, linking their fingers together when Ethan reached out. “But I’m here to listen.”

Silence rang for a few minutes. Stiles watched Ethan watch his hands, shamelessly staring at his painfully handsome face and wondering how he got so lucky. He could hear the shower running, and he wondered if Aiden was listening in and giving them privacy to finish their conversation.

Eventually, Ethan took a deep breath, and then it shuddered out of him when he exhaled.

“People don’t tend to stick around,” Ethan whispered. His eyes were stuck on his lap, but Stiles didn’t mind. “I’ve never had anyone but Aiden. We… we’ve talked about what it was like for us, before, but it was bad, Sti. Some days, I didn’t know how we were ever going to get out. We didn’t have anyone that we were able to rely on, no one but each other. I don’t want to lose you.”

Stiles hummed so that Ethan would know that he heard him, but then he took a deep breath and waited to respond. He didn’t want to say the wrong thing and mess this up. Not when Ethan was being so honest and vulnerable.

“Listen… I’m not saying that we’re going to be together forever or anything like that. Baby, I’m seventeen; hell, we’re all seventeen! But that doesn’t mean that I don’t care about you,” Stiles told him seriously. He reached out to grab Ethan’s chin gently, finally making the other boy look up and meet his eye. “I’m falling in love with you. With both of you. And it’s not because I need you, or because you’re my Alphas. It’s because of you, both of you, and everything that you’re coming to mean to me.”

Ethan let out a wet laugh before he pushed forward for a kiss. Stiles returned it happily, drawing their lips together to stretch out the press of their mouths. A noise tore from the back of his throat, and he slid closer to press their bodies together.

Stiles groaned, reaching up to tangle his hands in Ethan’s short hair and tug his head back to kiss him deeper.

“Just for the record, I love you both too,” Aiden said from the doorway, shocking them apart.

Stiles sucked in a sharp breath as he turned around to see Aiden, and—

God. He had a towel slung low across his waist, and there were droplets of water still trailing down his chest.

His dad hadn’t kicked the twins out—of the house or Stiles’ room—but he had asked them to refrain from showering together, especially when he was home. He had said that the less he knew the better, and that wasn't something he needed to know.

They all got it, so they’d stopped showering together the last couple of days and wouldn’t for the foreseeable future. If anything, it made moments like these even hotter, and Stiles shamelessly tracked his eyes down Aiden’s long torso.

“You do?” Stiles asked, raising an eyebrow. “Why don’t you come over here and show us how much?”

Aiden’s eyes flashed red, and his smirk was lined with fangs when he sauntered to the bed.

“Why don’t we just lock them up together? I’m sure they’ll eventually tear each other apart!”

“Peter!” his dad called disapprovingly. 

Which. Fair. Now that his dad knew about the whole grr grr monster mash thing, Stiles wasn’t going to keep anything from him ever again. But that didn’t mean he was going to suggest passively murdering their enemies in front of the town’s Sheriff!

“What? You know I’ve always been a bad boy, Jonathan,” Peter freaking purred, as if he was some kind of cheap porno actor. And then, to make everything worse, Peter shifted closer into his dad’s space and tucked his hand into one of his dad’s belt loops. And his dad didn’t do anything. “Or did you forget how often you had to put me in cuffs to make me behave?”

“Oh my god!” Stiles yelled. Yelled. As loud as he could. Every single wolf winced, and Stiles didn’t feel the least bit sorry. “Oh my god, not in front of me! Why would you do this in front of me!”

“Stiles…”

“No! I don’t want to hear it! Take Peter away and do it somewhere else! Oh my god, my ears!”

His dad blinked at him. Stiles knew his dad was bisexual because Stiles wasn’t an idiot, but they’d never spoken about it. Hell, they’d only spoken about his own sexuality that one time—since he was totally blocking the Jungle incident out of his memory forever—but it wasn’t like they couldn’t talk about it.

But as far as Stiles knew, no one knew that his dad sometimes checked out other guys. Stiles had no idea if Peter was, like, outing him or something, but from the way those two had been interacting all afternoon, they’d obviously known each other before now.

Hell, with the way they’d acted the other night, the whole pack probably already had an inkling that there was something there, just like Stiles did. Maybe that meant something. Maybe Peter meant something. After all, he seemed really comfortable in his dad’s personal bubble, which probably meant something.

“Kiddo—” his dad said roughly. Stiles shot forward and gave him a quick, tight hug, totally not tearing up when his dad whispered a quiet, “Thank you, kid,” in his ear.

“I’m being serious,” he said, stepping back and narrowing his eyes at Peter. “Please never talk about my dad’s handcuffs ever again. For the love of god please keep things G-rated when I am in the room.”

Peter’s expression was soft. Stiles was totally giving them his blessing, and he was just glad that Peter recognized that and was happy about it.

“Well, Jonathan?” Peter asked, raising an eyebrow. “Where are you taking me?”

“What?” his dad asked. He didn’t look all emotional and vulnerable anymore, but he did look confused.

Stiles took pity on him.

“On a date,” Stiles stage whispered. “You’re supposed to take him on a date now.”

“But… we’re supposed to be making a plan to deal with Deucalion and the Dara-arch thing,” his dad said.

Stiles saw Peter’s face fall from the corner of his eye, but he knew that his dad totally didn’t mean it the way it sounded. His dad was just kinda an idiot who hadn’t dated since his mom died. While they didn’t talk about stuff like that, Stiles knew enough to know that there hadn’t been anyone that his dad had even tried with—not even Melissa, even when everyone knew how easy it would have been for both of them—and so the fact that his dad was letting Peter stand in his space and not turning his very blatant flirting down… well.

That meant something.

And Stiles wasn’t going to let his dad’s stubbornness get in the way.

“Dad, we’ve got this,” Stiles told him. He looked between the two men and felt pretty proud when he was able to read them both well enough to know that Peter was as interested as his dad.

“You are all teenagers,” Dad parroted, but his eyes snuck over to Peter even as he angled his body closer. “They’re all teenagers.”

“Your son has been running with wolves for more than a year,” Peter told him gently. The rest of the pack was totally pretending not to listen in, but they were all werewolves and were just in the other room. Stiles ignored that too. “Besides, we can simply veto the plan when we get back.”

“Hey!” Stiles protested, but his dad let out a laugh that Stiles hadn’t ever heard before.

He narrowed his eyes. His dad shifted even closer. “I guess they could entertain themselves for a few hours.”

“Hours, Jonathan? What type of boy do you take me for,” Peter asked him.

Like a porno star.

Again.

“Oh, I know exactly what type of—”

“No!” Stiles screeched, lunging forward and full body shoving his dad towards the door. “No! Get out! Get out get out get out!”

Stiles didn’t stop screaming until both men were on the front step, the door closed and locked behind them. He rested his forward against the cool wood and listened to the sound of his dad’s joyous laughter even as he and Peter started walking towards the driveway, and a smile turned his lips up.

Taking a deep breath, he let himself bask in the warmth sitting in his chest. They were pack bonds, even if Stiles wasn’t able to feel them like the wolves could. His spark, the little flicker in his chest that let him move mountain ash, allowed him to feel them, and that was enough for him. He listened to the noise coming from the living room, the din of chatter from his pack, his family, filling up his house in a way he never thought that he’d get to hear again.

The smile on his face grew wider, and Stiles allowed himself a few minutes to revel the feeling of completeness before he finally moved back into the living room.

“I think Peter’s idea has merit,” Stiles told the room. He flopped down on his dad’s armchair, ignoring the look the twins sent him.

“Would you be able to hold them?” Boyd asked him seriously. There was a crease of a frown between his brows that made it obvious he was taking this all very seriously. Which was very fitting for Boyd.

“I think… I think if I infused the mountain ash with mistletoe I might be able to trap them both. I know that Jennifer wanted Kali, but with her gone, it might be enough if we put Deucalion in front of her?”

“She likely wants them both dead,” Aiden said. “Deucalion was the first of the Alpha pack; he’s the one who convinced Ennis, then Kali, to massacre their packs for power.”

“Okay, that’s good,” Stiles murmured, and then quickly, “Well not good, good, ‘cause that’s literally batshit crazy and totally terrible, but good in the sense that she probably wants him dead.”

“Yeah, that’s probably a safe bet.”

“How do we get them there?” Boyd asked the group.

“I… I could probably draw out Deucalion?” Stiles offered, watching the twins closely. “Do you two think you could lure Blake?”

It was easy to see that they did not love that idea, but Stiles didn’t have anything better. They needed to end this, but the problem was that they weren’t actually what Deucalion or Blake were in Beacon Hills for. Deucalion was here to test the Alpha, Blake was here to kill the Alpha pack, and even though Stiles’ pack had basically eradicated the Alpha pack, it was unlikely that either of the two really cared about them.

Deucalion could always convince more wolves to join his cause. Blake still had Deucalion to kill. Even with stopping her ritual, Stiles was pretty sure that Blake was singularly focused enough not to really bother with them.

So that meant they’d have to find a way to get them together even though neither of them was likely to care.

Ugh.

“It’s a good plan!” Stiles said into the silence, completely ignoring his own internal musings.

“It’s not a very good plan, baby,” Ethan told him kindly.

Aiden added, “But it’s probably the best we’ll get.”

“Hey! I’ll take it.”

“Your bar is really just so low,” Erica muttered, rolling her eyes when Stiles stuck his tongue out at her.

“Okay. Peter gave us enough information about Deucalion’s habits that we know where he’ll be Saturday, which is when the lunar eclipse is happening. I think we should aim to lure them somewhere private before that starts; I doubt Deucalion would willingly be out and about once the moon’s gone.”

“No,” Aiden said with a wince. “I… I don’t like this. We’re all going to be powerless.”

Stiles raised an eyebrow, and Ethan spoke up to amend, “We are going to be powerless.”

“Exactly. And I totally understand that must be really nerve-wracking for you two, especially being our Alphas. But there’s me and my dad, and Peter knows how to use a gun and is apparently passably decent.”

“I’m sure your dad could show him what he needs to know,” Erica murmured, and Stiles shot her a dark look.

“We are not talking about that,” Stiles told them all firmly. Erica and Ethan snickered, but Stiles studiously ignored them as he rolled his eyes. “Alright, so to recap, I’m gonna lure Deucalion, the twins will lure Blake, and then I’ll trap them in a mountain ash-mistletoe circle and hope for the best.”

“You, the Sheriff, and Peter will be on hand with firepower, while the rest of us will be there to offer support once the moon is back in the sky,” Aiden finished, a very violent-looking smile on his face. “I can’t fucking wait to get rid of them.”

“Honestly, me too,” Stiles told them. “I feel like we’re missing out on valuable time we could be using to host pack get-togethers!”

“Pack get-togethers? The pack is together?” Erica asked.

“No! We’re missing Danny and Lydia!” Stiles said, slumping back into his armchair. Huh, planning murder was, like, seriously exhausting work.

“Danny?” Boyd asked, sitting up straighter. “He’s nice.”

“Not another one,” Aiden growled, his eyes flashing red. “No one else is allowed to crush on Danny!”

“I don’t have a crush on Danny,” Erica told him. Then, horrifyingly, they fist bumped.

A shiver ran down Stiles’ spine as they grinned manically at each other. Oh god, what had he done?

“So… do you really think this is going to work?”

“What do you mean?” Stiles asked, leaning his head off the edge of his bed so he could see Erica.

Like this, she was upside down, but Stiles could still out make the pensive expression on her face. She was going through his closet and throwing out clothes. Stiles wasn’t actually going to throw them out, but he’d let her think he was just because she seemed to have fun tearing apart his closet—physically and verbally.

“The plan,” Erica said.

It was Friday. Wednesday, his dad and Peter had gotten home very late, but they’d approved of the plan before they went upstairs.

Together.

Stiles couldn’t even say anything about it because his boyfriends were also staying over. Not that he would have anything to say about it, since his dad was an adult who could do what made him happy. It was just kinda strange, since Stiles was absolutely certain they’d only reconnected last week.

That had led to some very deep thinking, and he’d realized that his dad had likely spent portions of his day with Peter Tuesday and Wednesday, since Stiles hadn’t gotten his normal Tuesday afternoon text from Kelsie, the owner of the diner across the street from the station who Stiles had convinced, years ago, to report every time his dad went there for lunch.

For the last three years, his dad had been going every Tuesday for a falafel wrap. This week, his dad hadn’t, which either meant that he was working a case or that he had been on a lunch date with Peter Hale.

Sure, it was a pretty thin thread, but he’d been raised by the Sheriff and putting things together was kinda his specialty.

“Sorry, what?” Stiles asked, sitting up and shaking his head. As an excuse, he said, “Blood rush.”

Erica rolled her eyes even as she threw a pair of jeans directly into the garbage can. Stiles was about to protest before he saw the very large gash in the left leg.

Fair enough.

“The plan, idiot,” Erica snapped. Now that Stiles was sitting upright, it was easy to see that her shoulders were tense. “Do you think it’s going to work?”

Stiles shrugged. When Erica growled at him, he threw up his hands in surrender. “Hey! Don’t growl at me! I don’t mean it in a bad way. After all, me and the twins took out Ennis and Kali on our own and it worked just fine.”

“Ennis was an idiot and Kali was driven by revenge and bloodlust,” Erica pointed out. “Something makes me think that Deucalion and Blake are going to be harder than that.”

Stiles shrugged. “They probably will be. But I’m not worried.”

Erica threw a shirt at him, and Stiles said, “Hey! I’m not being facetious! I’m not worried, because I have the twins by my side and my pack at my back. Even if the plan doesn't work, I know that we’ll be okay because we’ll be together.”

Erica looked at him incredulously for almost an entire minute before she tackled him back onto the bed. The air was knocked from his lungs, and Stiles took a gasping breath and then nearly died as he choked on Erica’s hair.

“Oh my god,” he groaned, shoving at her until she was mostly beside him with their legs still tangled together. “What is wrong with you?”

“Don’t throw stones from a glass house, weirdo,” Erica told him with a roll of her eyes. Then, she shifted around so she was cuddling him more than squishing him, and Stiles made a pleased noise.

“We’ll be fine,” Stiles promised. “We’ve come too far.”

Erica didn’t say anything, but she hummed as she cuddled closer. Stiles tangled their legs together, and let himself have this moment.

“Oh wow, this is absolutely not at all what I expected to find. I’m literally the least lucky person I know? I’ve never even won a raffle before! I can’t believe this actually happened!”

Stiles stared in awe—and a very hefty dose of disgust—at the disfigured corpse lying in a pool of blood on the warehouse floor. Then, his eyes moved to the other person in the warehouse, since it was Deucalion, who was sitting with his legs crossed as he just sort of… looked around the room.

Stiles hadn’t ever actually seen him before, but he’d obviously heard a lot about him. He seemed… less scary than he’d been in Stiles’ head, even though he was covered in dried blood. Stiles snapped his eyes over to the corpse again, and tried to figure out how they’d gotten so lucky after spending the last several hours thinking their plan had failed.

The eclipse was almost over. Their plan had not worked out. Apparently, it hadn’t worked out because Blake had the same plan and had trapped Deucalion in a mountain ash circle. Only, she must have done that before the moon went down, and she’d lost.

She’d really lost.

Stiles wasn’t even sure both her arms were still attached to her body.

Which—

His throat burned as he threw up. Violently. Stiles wretched as he emptied his stomach right there in the warehouse, the image of Blake’s mangled corpse flashing behind his eyes. Blood was not his thing. Blood was not his thing at all.

A hand started rubbing his back, slipping under his shirt and pulling out the twinges of discomfort. After another minute or so, Stiles was able to straighten up with a wince.

Aiden passed him a water bottle, and Stiles mumbled, “Thanks baby,” as he rinsed his mouth out.

“Are you okay?” Ethan asked, his hand still on his back.

“Sorry. Fuck, I really hate blood,” Stiles told them quietly, rubbing his forehead. “That’s so gross. Did you see that? It’s so fucking gross.”

“We saw it,” Aiden confirmed. “It’s very gross.”

“Aiden, Ethan,” Deucalion called. All three of them looked over at him, and Stiles shivered when he felt the Alpha look at him specifically. “How lovely it is to finally see you again.”

“What are you talking about?” Aiden asked sharply.

“I have been given a gift,” Deucalion said. There was a musical tilt to his voice that had nothing to do with the posh accent. Stiles wasn’t surprised that he’d managed to find people who would follow his genocidal ideas when he sounded like that. “My eyesight has been returned to me, and I’ve seen the error of my ways. When I was blinded, I knew only suffering, but now—”

“Yeah, okay, I’m not dealing with this,” Stiles muttered.

He grabbed the gun from his back holster and said a little mental thank you that his dad was outside and watching the entrance. They’d had no idea if anyone was going to be in the warehouse, but after they’d confirmed that neither Deucalion nor Blake were at home, they had decided to check out the place that started it all.

And it was good that his dad was outside, because Stiles raised his arm, aimed, and shot a wolfsbane-mistletoe bullet right between Deulcaion’s eyes.

Then he shot another one into his chest.

Then two more.

Just to be safe.

“We’re all good!” Aiden called loudly, his voice echoing through the warehouse even without his Alpha power.

Thankfully, no one rushed into the warehouse. Stiles took a deep breath as he put the gun away, watching Deucalion’s chest to make sure he wasn’t breathing. With the moon still covered, all the wolves were essentially human, so even if the wolfsbane wouldn't kill him, four bullets would definitely do the trick.

“Okay,” Stiles said, shaking out his hands. “Okay, I think I’m going into shock.”

He hadn’t felt like this with Ennis and Kali. There was a numbness slowly crawling up his limbs, and Stiles didn’t know what to do with it.

“Let’s get some fresh air, baby,” Ethan told him.

His hand was back on him. He let Ethan guide him around, and then they started walking towards the warehouse door. Stiles knew that the rest of the pack was standing out front. That even as humans, they would have heard his gun go off. He wasn’t sure if that was what was making him feel so spacey or if it was something else.

When he got to the doorway Stiles looked up, and noticed a sliver of moon slide into sight.

Then, the twins roared.

Stiles spun around to find them each hunched over, hands covering their heads as their roars tapered out. Stiles rushed forward, staying a step away when both boys snapped their heads up to look at him. Their eyes were glowing a dark red, so dark their eyes were almost black. Stiles’ heart kicked up, rushing against his chest as apprehension built in his belly. He wasn’t scared, not of the twins, but he was nervous.

He was also still kind of freaking out, so he didn’t react in the most mature way.

“If we’ve somehow gotten werewolf married without me knowing I am going to be so mad!” Stiles yelled, staring at the two incredulity as their eyes finally dimmed. “I don’t know exactly what it means that you got his power up but I know that it means something and one of you better start talking right now!”

“I-I don’t…” Aiden trailed off as he looked at Ethan with wide eyes.

It was obvious that they were still coming back to themselves after the little power boost, only the power boost didn’t make any sense. Stiles was the one who killed Deucalion this time. It had been agreed upon before, because they’d all figured that Deucalion’s spark would have been so twisted that the power wouldn’t have been worth it.

Obviously, that hadn’t mattered, because the twins had definitely gotten a power-up.

“Are you taller?” Stiles demanded incredulously, looking up to stare at them both. His eyes were frantically darting from one twin to the next in a way that made him feel a little dizzy, but he managed to say, “This isn’t supposed to happen! How could this have happened!” in a semi-recognizable tone.

“I don’t know,” Ethan whispered, looking down and flexing his hands like he’d never seen them.

Stiles felt the same.

“As you already know, sweetheart, werewolves tend to mate for life,” Peter said, stepping into the warehouse and wrinkling his nose at… everything that was going on. “Finding one’s ideal match and beginning a bond is not a conscious act. Mating can be, and there’s often a ritual that born wolves perform that’s not unlike a wedding.”

“So you’re telling me these two have done the werewolf equivalent of giving me a promise ring and because of that the Alpha power that should have just faded into the ether when I killed a wolfless Deucalion went to them?” Stiles asked incredulously. “I don’t even have a ring!”

“We can get you a ring, baby,” Ethan told him sweetly.

“No one is getting anyone a ring until you’re at least eighteen!” Dad shouted from outside. “Now get your asses out here before I have to enter a crime scene I’m pretending not to even know about.”

Stiles blinked stupidly at the open doorway that led out of the warehouse. He couldn’t see his dad, but Boyd and Erica were standing in the arch. Erica was grinning, tucked under Boyd’s arm who was looking at them all with a small, quiet smile.

As Stiles started to hysterically laugh, it hit him: it was done.

It was all done.

“You killed him! Stiles, how could you do that? You’re… you’re a murderer!”

Stiles leaned back into Aiden’s arms. His knees had been feeling weak ever since he took a breath of fresh, blood-free air. Boyd had ruffled his hair. Erica had smacked a kiss on his cheek. Dad had pulled him into a hug and held him for a long time.

Only, the twins had heard the sound of heartbeats getting closer, then the shuffle of feet running through the preserve. It hadn’t taken too many guesses to figure out who it would be, and it was even easier to piece together that they were here because of the twins’ howling, which had apparently been so loud that it had physically shaken the warehouse.

Now, Stiles was standing in Aiden’s arms. Ethan was right beside them, their arms pressed together. Peter and his dad were standing behind them to their left, with Boyd as their enforcer on the right with Erica a step behind him. It was a somewhat typical pack formation, with Stiles standing as Alpha mate to their dual Alphas.

The others weren’t standing in any sort of formation at all. They’d burst through the tree lines all beta-shifted and growly, but it hadn’t lasted very long when they’d seen Stiles’ pack standing around his jeep and Peter’s Audi.

Now, Cora and Isaac were flanking Derek, but it was clear that there was no real intention behind their positions, and Scott was standing in front of the warehouse door with a look of disgust on his face.

“What?” Stiles asked quietly, staring at Scott hard.

“You killed him!” Scott yelled, throwing his arms out as if he was gesturing behind himself.

“You… literally don’t know that,” Stiles pointed out. Then, he wondered why he was even trying.

Their friendship was doomed from the moment Allison Argent glided into school and Scott’s full focus shifted to something new and shiny. The beginning of the end was only made clearer when Scott ignored all his advice about being a werewolf and seemed determined to get himself killed just to spite Stiles’ best efforts to keep him alive.

This… this was just the final nail in the coffin. And it suddenly felt like a long time coming.

Scott gave him a look like Stiles was the one being terrible, and said, “I know what a bullet hole looks like, Stiles.”

“How do you know it wasn’t me?” Dad asked. Stiles could hear the frown in his voice without having to town around to see him.

“Mr. Stilinski, we both know you wouldn’t do something like this,” Scott said, like it was completely obvious.

But the implication was that they both knew that Stiles would. He didn’t know if that was because Scott thought he was some evil, cold-hearted killer, or if it was because Stiles had always been willing to do whatever it took for those he loved, but the implication stung all the same.

Ridiculously, his eyes started burning. Aiden hugged him tighter, and Ethan reached out to take his hand. Stiles did his best to bite down on the urge to cry, and instead focused on his mates.

Which was something they really needed to talk about.

“Stop a criminal?” his dad asked, taking on the harsher note. “Because as far as I’m concerned, that’s all my son has done. If you’re not okay with that, that’s fine, but you don’t have a right to scorn him for ending a man with a body count so high we can’t even figure out what it is.”

“I—but murder is wrong!” Scott cried. “Stiles killed him; he’s no better than Deucalion now!”

“And that’s why Stiles had to stop him,” Dad said. He took a deep breath, and when it looked like Scott was going to say something else, his dad, in the same tone he spoke to convicts, snapped, “Enough. Your mother doesn’t know where you are, and she’s worried. Go home, Scott.”

Scott opened his mouth, but anything he might have said was drowned out by Peter growling deeply. Stiles shot him a surprised glance, but both the wolf and his dad had their attention solely focused on Scott. With the way they were standing tall, side by side, they made a really imposing pair.

With his tail basically tucked between his legs, Scott shot a look at the others he’d arrived with before he hurried away. Derek and co didn’t move, but Stiles was a little distracted when Peter moaned.

“God, you are the sexiest man I’ve ever seen,” Peter breathed, and then he could hear them kissing.

Stiles did not turn around to look. Instead, he plugged his ears until Ethan tapped his shoulder to let him know they were all clear. Parental PDA was never going to be okay, but his dad had spent the last few days in a haze of pure joy, and Stiles wouldn’t do anything to take that away from him.

Since they were done kissing, he looked over at the other pack. They had an Alpha and some betas, so they were technically a pack, right? What did that mean for them?

“You weren’t meant to be an Alpha, Der,” Cora whispered. The wind seemed to carry the words to Stiles, and he knew the wolves would have no problem hearing them either. “This… it could be good. Look at what they’ve done—do you even know how long the Alpha pack has been terrorizing our world?”

Derek hung his head. As Stiles watched, it seemed that all the tension he’d carried around on his shoulders for as long as Stiles knew him melted away. Derek seemed to get younger as he let fall all the weight he’d been carrying.

Then, he dropped to his knees.

Stiles sucked in a sharp breath that was echoed by his pack, and he watched Derek closely as he slowly raised his head and looked directly at the twins.

“Alpha Aiden Sterling, Alpha Ethan Sterling,” Derek began, his words sounding stiff and formal, “I would like to request safe passage through your lands, and acceptance into your pack. If you will have me, I will relinquish my Alpha spark, giving it back to your pack to ensure your strength and prosperity.”

“Uh, we weren’t ever trained for this?” Aiden hissed anxiously, stepping back from Stiles and looking around until his eye landed on Peter. “What do we say?”

Peter seemed surprised to be asked, but he quickly stepped closer. “There’s nothing specific that needs to be done. Our wolf is magic, and like all magic, it’s powered by intent. If you two wish to accept Derek into our pack as a beta, you need only speak the words and mean them without a doubt.”

"Seriously?" Ethan asked. “We just have to believe?”

“Hey, it works for me!” Stiles said, giving them both a thumbs up. “Go on babes, you’ve got this!”

The twins shared a look.

“We accept your request, beta Derek Hale,” they said as one.

At first, Stiles wasn’t sure anything was going to happen, and then the twins gasped as Derek’s eyes shone blue. He felt something surge in his chest, and when he looked over, the twins’ glowing red eyes were even darker.

Jesus, would they just eventually combust?

“Cora?” Aiden asked softly. “I know we didn’t—”

“Just shut up and make me pack, blondie,” Cora snarked, and Erica let out a cackling laugh at the familiar nickname.

“God, you’re so fucking annoying,” Aiden grumbled, and that seemed to do it.

Suddenly, their pack was bigger by two.

“Derek—” Peter said softly, and a second later Derek was across the clearing and falling into Peter’s arms.

Stiles wanted to give them privacy, but he couldn’t pull his eyes away from the way they were clinging to each other. He knew there had to be a lot of bad blood between them, but the way they were clinging to each other made Stiles think maybe it didn’t matter. It was familiar, because that was the same way he and his dad had clung to each other when the truth was finally out between them, and now they were stronger than ever.

Maybe the Hales could have that too.

“Uncle Peter,” Derek whispered, and no one said anything about the way Peter choked on a sob.

Cora barreled into them both from the side, and then all three remaining Hales were laughing together. A smile stole across Stiles’ face, too big and too buoyant to fight it.

He didn’t even try.

“Isaac,” he asked, focusing on the young-looking boy. “Do you want to join us?”

“C-Can I?” he asked quietly. His eyes shot to Erica and Boyd, and then didn’t leave.

“Of course!” Stiles said, and not a second later his two betas had crossed the distance and Boyd was lifting Isaac off the ground and spinning him around in one of the most dramatic hugs he’d ever seen.

Leaning back when Aiden stepped back behind him, he linked their fingers together to keep his arms tightly around him.

“We did good,” he whispered, his eyes tracking over the groups his pack had broken up into.

“And we’re not even done growing,” Ethan told him, a teasing tone in his voice when he winked at his brother.

Stiles laughed, and tugged him in for a kiss.

“So let me get this straight… you killed three Alpha werewolves—all of whom had murdered their entire packs for the power boost it gave them— and a Darach—who is an evil nature Druid who was using human sacrifices to supercharge her powers—just this semester, all while doing better than me in English and forming a… a pack of werewolves with two of the aforementioned Alpha werewolves who just so happened to not be super evil?”

“I mean, yeah, that’s pretty much it? Well, technically Deucalion murdered Blake. She was already dead when we got there, and we hadn’t actually trapped them together like we’d planned to,” Stiles explained, shrugging his shoulders. “I mean I also lost my virginity, which I consider to be a highlight of the last few months.”

“Definitely a highlight,” Aiden agreed, a dirty smirk on his ridiculously handsome face.

“The brightest of lights, baby,” Ethan added, which was so ridiculously sweet that Stiles’ heart got a boner.

Then his dad cleared his throat, and his boner shrivelled away and died when he looked over to find Peter Hale sprawled across his dad’s lap as they snuggled together on his dad’s armchair.

Ugh, parental PDA. Gross.

“Okay… so after you killed the Alpha of Alphas—who also called himself the demon wolf for fun—you managed to convince Derek Hale, previously an Alpha, to give up his status and join your pack, bringing with him the last of the remaining Hale bloodline and Isaac, who was his beta and was bitten before Derek bit Erica and Boyd last year. Right?” Danny asked.

“No one convinced me of anything,” Derek muttered from the corner.

He was totally brooding, and Stiles was pretty sure his brooding was directed at Danny, who, when he first showed up, had cheekily called him Miguel as he worked some of the best flirting Stiles had ever seen on a very, very flustered Derek.

“That’s right,” Stiles said. “Derek hadn’t ever been trained to be an Alpha, and he pretty clearly didn’t know what he was doing—” “Hey!” “—what, it’s true? So he gave up his Alpha spark so he could join Peter in our pack!”

“And Cora also joined, because of the power of family, and then Isaac joined because he had a bond with Erica and Boyd from being Derek’s betas.”

“Yup,” she said, popping the “p” loudly as Isaac nodded his head. “I also wanted Uncle Peter to restart my Left Hand training. It was a no-brainer.”

“Right… so she’s super dangerous. Got it.” Danny looked around the room. He was sitting on the loveseat with Lydia, but Lydia had been silent the entire time. Stiles wasn’t totally sure what was going on with her, but it probably wouldn't get any better if she didn’t let anyone help her. “Scott McCall is also a werewolf, but because he’s so in love with Allison, who comes from a family of psychopathic supernatural hunters, he refused to join?”

“Yeah, and ‘cause he’s a major dumbass,” Erica said at the same time as Stiles said, “I think it’s more than that.”

“That all happened yesterday?” Danny asked, and got a chorus of agreement. “And wait, what happened with Scott? He isn’t joining the pack?”

“Scott has always had a problem with authority,” Dad told the group. “His resistance to joining a pack is likely based on that core trait of his. I’ve been chatting with Melissa, and it was likely made even worse by the way he was changed without his consent.”

“I’m not apologizing for that,” Peter drawled, pecking his dad’s cheek when the older man rolled his eyes.

“Maybe you should,” Lydia snapped, glaring at Peter.

Peter raised an eyebrow. “I refuse to apologize for keeping myself alive,” Peter said tightly. Then, his left eyebrow twitched. “However, I do apologize for the way I twisted your mind. It’s not an excuse, but my own madness is somewhat of an explanation. I had spent six years in a coma, reeling from the loss of my pack and the abandonment of my Alpha—don’t you start Derek. That wasn’t on you—and I was not thinking clearly when I used you as a pawn in my resurrection.”

“That was barely an apology,” Lydia said with a roll of her eyes.

“As I told you I would not apologize for keeping myself alive,” Peter told her evenly. “I will, however, offer amends. I got into your mind, but I also know how to make sure no one else ever can.”

“W-What?” Lydia whispered. She sat forward, and the atmosphere in the room seemed to change as she focused on Peter.

“What was it that Darach called you? A Wailing Woman, yes?” Peter asked. It was obvious he was being obnoxious and toying, and just as the air was actually getting colder, he yelped. “Ouch, Jonathan! I’m not doing anything wrong!”

“Just tell the poor girl what you know, Peter,” his dad grumbled, shooting Lydia an apologetic look.

“Ugh, no one appreciates good dramatics these days!” Peter complained, throwing his arms out. He grumbled when Dad moved around him in a hug, which seemed to curve some of his ire. “Fine. I was the Hale pack’s Left Hand, but I was also our Lore Keeper.”

“Lore Keeper?” Danny asked, an interested glint in his eyes. “What’s that?”

“It’s rarely a position that a Left Hand takes up,” Peter said with a snort, “but it’s one of knowledge. I was the most interested in our family’s secrets, so I fell into it accidentally. In fact, I was training Derek to take my place.”

Stiles watched as Danny’s focus zeroed in on Derek, whose cheeks went pink. Stiles snorted, and was glad when no one seemed to notice.

“Can there be two Lore Keepers?” Danny asked excitedly.

“There can be,” Peter said, inclining his head.

“What does that mean for me?”

“It means, dear, that I know what it means to be a Banshee. I know why I was able to use you to bring me back to life, I know why you keep finding dead bodies, and I know how to help you,” Peter said seriously. He wasn't teasing or being dramatic. Stiles could tell by the sincerity in his voice, and Stiles was pretty sure Lydia could too.

Lydia sat back in her seat, and she shared a heavy look with Danny. Stiles had no idea what they were communicating, but they were definitely eye-speaking something. A second later, Danny sighed and leaned forward.

“Listen… Jackson is thinking about coming back next semester. Things with his parents… they’ve never been good. He doesn’t know his birth parents, just all the bullshit David and Miranda have told him, but he’s not doing good in London,” Danny explained. There was a pleading quality to his voice, so Stiles wasn’t surprised when the next thing he said was, “Maybe… maybe he could join the pack? Derek was his Alpha right? Maybe he’d follow him!”

“Oh please. Jackson was so fucked up when Derek bit him that he turned into a giant, submissive lizard. There’s no way that he’d actually follow Derek into a pack. Besides, we have you.”

“Me?”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “He’ll join the pack just because you’re in it,” Stiles told him. “After all, you can’t be our Lore Keeper if you aren’t pack.”

“We’d love to have you join us,” Ethan told him sincerely. “Humans are important, respected members of good, healthy packs. They can help remind the weres’ of their humanity, and they have access to things the supernatural community doesn’t. And, if Peter and Derek are willing, we’d be more than happy to see you train as a Lore Keeper.”

Danny smiled widely at them, and then his eyes fell on Aiden and his smile shrunk down into a very devious smirk.

“Both of you?” he finally asked, obviously trying not to laugh.

Aiden growled. Stiles rolled his eyes and elbowed him in the chest. It abruptly cut off and turned into a sputtering cough.

“Both of them,” Stiles agreed for them, sending Aiden a glare even as he scratched the back of the other boy’s neck in the way he really liked. “We all want you in the pack, Danny. And not just because you’re Jackson’s best friend or because your computer skills are super cool. You’re a loyal friend, and you’re a genuinely good person. Those are qualities we look for.”

Danny shot his eyes over to Derek quickly, and Stiles watched the older man long enough to see him shoot Danny a small, shy smile before he looked back at his living room. He felt pretty good about Danny joining them, but even after watching their eye conversation, he wasn’t sure where Lydia stood.

“And you, Lydia? You’ve been uncharacteristically quiet,” Stiles asked, watching her closely.

“I hear more than I used to,” she said quietly. Her head tilted slightly to the side as she watched the twins. “Their power… parts of them cling to you. If I listen closely enough, I can hear them.”

“Well that was suitably terrifying,” Stiles murmured.

“I can help with that,” Peter offered. “Whether or not you want to join us. Banshees don’t need a pack, not in the way that werewolves do.”

“You would help me either way?” Lydia asked strangely, and her voice seemed to slither across the room.

“Yes,” he said. “I can help with that too.”

Lydia blinked rapidly, and a weight seemed to slip off her shoulders before their eyes. He made eye contact with Ethan to make sure he was seeing it too, and then looked at his dad and got a small nod in return.

God, Stiles couldn’t even imagine how scared she must have been if this was how she was reacting to just the promise of information.

“Fine. But I’m giving Stilinski a makeover. And Lahey. I’m not hanging around with you all in public when you dress like that.”

“We’ll cover the bill,” Aiden said quickly.

Stiles shot him a dirty look.

“Hey! What’s wrong with what I wear?” Isaac protested from where he was squished between Boyd and Erica on the floor. The other two betas hadn’t left his side since he showed up earlier, and Isaac seemed to be just as happy for the physical affection.

“You don’t need to wear a scarf every day,” Lydia informed him, sounding like her old, prim self as she lifted her chin into the air. She surveyed the room, her eyes lingering on Cora in a way that Stiles thought was interesting, before finally landing on him. “You’ll be honest with us from here on out?”

“Scout’s Honour!” Stiles said, and then when she narrowed her eyes, said, “Fine, Sheriff’s honour. I made a promise to my dad that I wouldn’t lie to him ever again, and that includes all of you.”

“We’re going to do our best to lead this pack right,” Ethan told the group. He took a moment before he started speaking again, looking at each pack member for a moment. “We’re young. Not just me and brother, but all of us, and we’re even younger still as a pack.”

“There’s going to be a lot ahead of us. There will be challenges we have to face—and there will be challengers, too.” Aiden took a deep breath as his eyes bled red, and with power in his voice, he said, “But if you accept us as we accept you, we will do everything in our power to lead us as a strong pack, united under Mother Moon.”

Energy rippled through the air. The werewolves all flashed their eyes, two sets of vibrant, electric blue pupils spread out amongst four bright gold. His dad nodded at the three of them with a steady grin on his face as he nuzzled into Peter’s neck. Lydia and Danny both nodded, the former looking pensive and the latter looking excited.

Stiles could feel it when everyone’s pack bonds must have snapped into place. The wolves’ eyes flared even brighter, Lydia sucked in a sharp breath, and Dad and Danny both started rubbing at their chests.

Stiles just grinned even wider.

“Fuck yeah!” Stiles cried, fist bumping the air. “Three cheers for Pack Stilinski!”

“Wait a minute,” Aiden said loudly, glaring at Stiles. “Who said we were taking your name?”

“You know, you are graciously being hosted on Hale land,” Peter called, “perhaps an honorary pack name would be best.”

“Kid, you couldn’t just leave it be, could you?” his dad asked, but it was okay.

Everyone in the room was smiling, and that’s all that mattered.

His pack, his family, was happy.

Nothing mattered more than that.