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I Want That One

AN: This is such a dumb titles for a story, I hate it. XD I’m pretty happy with the story itself, however! It’s pretty long, almost 10k, so if you want to read it on A03 instead, you can find it here.

Anyway! This is for @kirah69 for the Steter Secret Santa Exchange, and I hope you enjoy it! Thanks to @stetersecretsanta for organizing the even!

Alliances were tricky beasts at the best of times, and part of Peter was absolutely delighted to see Talia struggling to form this one. Having dared to question if she would be able to succeed in tying their clan to a neighboring tribe of Octarians, his dear sister had forbidden him from participating in negotiations with their leader. It was a bit ridiculous of her, really. He wasn't the one who called them bloodthirsty savages, after all, and even if he did he wouldn't mean it as an insult. Peter admired their willingness to go to war to protect their own, and even a small tribe of the fierce warriors was capable of destroying an entire settlement of Merfolk.

With more and more dark creatures crawling their way out of the abyss of a nearby trench, their clan needed that kind of aggression on their side.

That was why he would, of course, step in to aid Talia in securing the alliance - eventually. Once her common sense overtook her pride and she asked him to join her at the table, he would be happy to do so. Peter wouldn't even make her beg. Much. Until she broke, however, it was far more amusing to watch her flounder when faced with the stern leader of the Octarians. Unlike him, Talia truly did believe the other species to be savage, crude and inferior.

'They don't even build shelters, Peter', she'd told him once from where she was lounging on a bed of coral and sea silk. 'They don't clothe themselves either, or create jewelry or art or music - all they know is war'.

Looking over the visitors from his favorite alcove (one mostly hidden in the shadows that few ever took notice of), Peter found himself in firm disagreement. Perhaps the adornments the Octarians wore looked more crude than the glittering ornaments his people crafted at first glance, but there was artistry there regardless. Most pieces were probably made of bone rather than coral and shells, but they were just as skillfully shaped, carved into interesting shapes - Peter itched to get his hands on the necklace the leader wore so he could examine it closely. Many of their visitors wore brightly colored spikes and barbs from tropical fish woven in their hair, and if they felt no need to hide their bits behind useless scraps of frippery, Peter saw nothing wrong with that.

He was absolutely fascinated by the symbols that the Octarians had tattooed into the skin of their human halves. There were stories in those tattoos, Peter was sure of it. Most of the ink was black, a deep blue or a vivid red; only a few members had emerald greens, vibrant pinks or shocking oranges. Older members were the ones that were the most decorated - the man Talia was dealing with was nearly covered completely from waist to neck. Perhaps they got them when they became accomplished warriors or hunters, or they could be a right of passage... he wanted to know. He hated when knowledge eluded him, and he knew his sister wouldn't ask any questions about the tattoos, not when they were both scandalous and indecent in the minds of most of the Merfolk in his clan.

Peter could hardly wait for her resolve to break so he could be formally introduced to the Octarians. He had so many questions that needed to be answered once their alliance was secured.

Focused intently on the flagging discussion happening in front of him, Peter had been largely ignoring his surroundings... so it was no wonder, really, that he was taken completely by surprise by a light touch to the inside of his left wrist. His pride would sting later when he remembered the way he startled - he hadn't had anyone sneak up on him in ages, and he was absolutely going to give whoever had touched him without permission a tongue lashing.

Except when he whirled to face the interloper, he found himself staring into wide, unfamiliar brown eyes that almost seemed to glow. At the same time, the touch on his wrist turned firmer - no, not firmer, something was sucking at his skin and he couldn't bring himself to look down at his arm to see what was happening. That would mean tearing his eyes away from the beautiful face in front of him and Peter wasn't ready for that yet. He was too interested in drinking in the pale, almost pearlescent skin that was marked by small, reddish rings that in a true human would have been called 'beauty marks' - and oh, they were lovely. Peter found himself wanting to brush his fingers over them, wanted to map they way they disappeared into short, dark hair and the way they trailed down the right side the Octarian's neck.

For the moment he could only let his eyes follow that path, ignoring the way he felt something wrap around his wrist to create several more points of suction. The Octarian who had interrupted his spying was male and likely younger than Peter. He was old enough to have been inked, at least - his was that vibrant red, looking so delightful against pale skin that Peter longed to run his hands over marked inch of him. Not that there was much of it, as the Octarian's tattoos were limited to a sleeve of swirling lines on his left forearm and a piece that wrapped around his right shoulder to grace that collar bone, a few delicate lines curling into the hollow of his throat.

Forget his hands - Peter wanted his mouth on those beautiful adornments.

Letting his eyes drop further, he found himself just as entranced by the many legs that his new obsession owned. His octopus half was the opposite of his human; the majority of the coloring was the same deep red as those delectable marks on his face and torso. Dotting the skin (which Peter thought might feel like the velvet rich humans wore) were rings of pearlescent white, some of them just large enough to be seen while the largest few were as big as his fist.

It was as he let his eyes run down the length of one tentacle that Peter fully processed the fact that one of the appendages was curled around his wrist. He felt his eyebrows lift at the realization before he gave into his curiosity and twisted his hand enough to stroke the limb that was holding him captive. Just as he'd thought, the surface was velvet to the touch with firm muscle beneath and just a hint of sliminess - it wasn't at all unpleasant, and from the way the Octarian shivered at the touch, the other man felt the same way.

"And who do we have here?" Peter asked in a croon when the Octarian unstuck himself to release his hold. When he glanced down, there was a ring of vivid red circles that might even bruise; they ran all the way around his wrist. They looked rather lurid, almost obscene on his skin, and they left Peter with the odd feeling that he'd been somehow claimed. He arched a brow as he met the Octarian's eyes again and was delighted by the way a red flush began to wash over his face. "Darling, if you wanted to mark me all you had to do is ask," he added while drifting a little closer.

Talia would be furious with him, both for endangering the alliance and for 'lowering' himself by dallying with an Octarian. Peter didn't care - the other man was beautiful, and Peter wanted him.

"Hello," the Octarian breathed, scooting back a little at Peter's advance. Two of his eight tentacles, however, kept drifting towards Peter and twitching - probably an aborted attempt to latch on, so he was fairly certain he wasn't completely unwelcome. "Hi. I mean hello. I said that already. I... I didn't mean to grab you, I'm sorry, I just saw you up here while I was exploring - no, not exploring because this is your home and that would be so rude, to be, you know, snooping around. So I wasn't. Exploring. I was... lost? Yeah. I was lost. And then I saw you, and your tail is just really pretty so I got maybe a little distracted and then before I knew it I was over here and touching you. Hi."

"Hello," Peter said, giving a grin that probably showed off too many of his sharp teeth. The Octarian thought he had a pretty tail, and Peter preened at the thought. He was a rather handsome specimen, and he was well aware of that. Even with his personality (which many people who weren't him found a great deal of fault with) Talia was constantly fielding requests from other merfolk wanting to mate with him. The electric blue of his eyes was mirrored in his tail, and his markings resembled that of a mandarin fish - bright yellow near his waist and shifting to a vivid orange as his scales moved down to his fins. It was very pretty, and he spent a considerable amount of time grooming his scales until they shone. Peter took great pride in the rest of his appearance as well, and while modesty was all well and good he also believed in being truthful. He was stunning, and he was pleased that the beautiful Octarian had noticed.

"Hi." Peter bit back a laugh at the newest, breathless greeting - he didn't want the Octarian to think he was making fun of him.

"Now that we've said hello several times over, let's try something new. You can call me Peter, and if you're so curious about how my people live I would be extremely pleased to give you a guided tour. We can begin here and - if you'd like - end in my bedroom." The Octarian let out a soft sound that wasn't quite a yelp, darting back with more force than he'd been using previously. He managed to run into a wall and kept his back plastered there, staring at Peter with those lovely brown eyes.

"That's. That would be... I don't think..." the Octarian gulped, bringing Peter's attention to his neck - it was already lovely, but the pale, slender length would look even better decorated with Peter's bite marks. "I'm Stiles," he said, not quite shrinking away when Peter got close again. Not wanting to crowd... Stiles so much he felt threatened, Peter stopped an arm's length away. It was hard not to grin when the tip of one of Stiles' tentacles began to lightly stroke his side, shifting between skin and scales and making shivers of pure pleasure zing down Peter's spine. "That's not... my mom was from a tribe that lived in different waters, and the name she gave me is... most can't... so Stiles is good. I think my dad would kill me if I agreed to go to your bedroom, so. Not that I want to even if he wouldn't get mad - not that I don't want to, exactly, but. I'm sorry for grabbing you?"

"Don't apologize for that," Peter said with a smile, holding up his wrist for Stiles to inspect. "You look good on me, sweetheart."

Stiles' lovely eyes darted from Peter's to his wrist and back again several times, mouth dropping open a little in an expression Peter couldn't quite interpret. "Yeah," he whispered finally, sounding wrecked. "I mean! Uh. I shouldn't have done that. Probably." A second tentacle had joined the first on Peter's opposite side, and he refused to draw attention to the soft, exploring touches - it felt far too enjoyable. It made him want more though, made him wish Stiles would wrap all those tentacles around Peter and leave marks all over his skin. "My dad is probably wondering where I am. I should probably... go and join the talks again before they realize I slipped off. I wasn't going to do anything, I just wanted to see," he added hurriedly, perhaps realizing how bad it could look to have a member of a diplomatic party slip off unattended to 'explore'.

"If Talia says anything, tell her that I'll vouch for you," Peter said, shrugging one shoulder. It was a risk, but one he was willing to take if it kept him in Stiles' good graces. If it pissed off his sister at the same time, that was just a happy bonus. "I'm afraid I can't help you with your father, however."

"... right. Okay. I have to go now."

"Of course."

"I mean, I really need to."

"I'm not stopping you," Peter pointed out, breaking his rule and carefully settling the fingers of either hand on the tentacles that were touching his sides. He loved the way Stiles shuddered as he skimmed his fingers upward, but he didn't try to hold onto him when Stiles pulled his tentacles away. "If you need to go, darling, I wouldn't dream of keeping you."

"Right. I'm going to, uhm. Go then," Stiles said, starting to edge his way along the wall, away from Peter. True to his word, Peter stayed where he was... but there was probably no hiding the interest he felt. Stiles' eyes never left him as he inched away; the Octarian went so far as to swim down the hallway backwards so he didn't have to look away. Just before he turned the corner, Stiles paused and swallowed hard again. "Could I maybe... if you're not busy... could I maybe see you again? Later? If my dad doesn't, you know. Kill me. I still probably shouldn't go to your bedroom, but you could maybe, uhm. Give me a tour of the other stuff here. So I don't have to explore by myself."

"I would be delighted, Stiles. Shall I come find you in the morning? I assure you that time spent with me will be far more enjoyable than whatever mindless entertainment they've set up for your group tomorrow."

"I'm sure I'll find time with you extremely pleasurable," Stiles said before turning that lovely shade of red again. "So... so I'll see you tomorrow then? Oh, but won't you get in trouble? I'm really not supposed to wander around without Talia's permission."

"Let me worry about Talia," Peter said, pleased to have found someone who was willing to use his sister's name instead of her title. "You just wait for me tomorrow morning, and I'll come."

"... alright. I'll see you tomorrow then, Peter."

"Tomorrow."

"Right. Bye."

"Farewell for now."

"Mmm. Bye." Stiles paused again, human hand gripping the edge of the entrance. "... bye."

Even once he hurried out of Peter's sight, Peter stayed right where he was, staring down the hallway with unseeing eyes. Stiles was beautiful, and there had been a glimmer of intelligence in his eyes despite the way he'd babbled mindlessly. If things went well during the tour he'd offered, perhaps Peter could solve Talia's alliance problem and catch himself a lovely mate in one fell swoop.

It was certainly something worth considering. Talia would hate the idea, and who knew how the Octarian delegation would take it - to say nothing of Stiles' family. But his sister had been after him for quite some time to settle down and choose a mate, so she could hardly complain. Hopefully his position as Talia's Left Hand would be enough to impress Stiles' family and gain their permission. So long as the next day didn't end in complete disaster, it really was an idea with a lot of merit.

If he could convince Stiles of that, Peter would be able to get his hands and mouth on Stiles just the way he wanted... and he could probably get Stiles to thoroughly mark his own skin in return with just a little encouragement. Looking down at his left wrist, Peter felt heat curling in his body at that ring of red circles Stiles had left behind. They really did look good on him, and Peter could hardly wait to get more.

~.~.~

Peter stared down at the trio of dead, gutted fish that was on the floor in front of his suite. They were strung together with a bright red spine from another fish, and between each was a carved bead made of bone. He had no idea what exactly he was supposed to make of the... gift? Warning? Threat? There wasn't anyone waiting to tell him what in the void it was supposed to be, or why someone had dumped it in front of his door. But it looked like a good deal of effort and thought had been put into it, so he gave a put-upon sigh and scooped up the present and brought it into his room for further inspection.

From the beads, he thought it was a safe bet that it had come from one of the Octarians. Perhaps Stiles would be able to tell him what it was for.

Reminded of is self-appointed task, Peter smiled and looked down at his left wrist. He was right, and a few of the marks that Stiles had left with his suckers had bruised, still starkly visible on his skin. Pleased by that, Peter had found a cuff bracelet that he could put on just below the marks, hoping that would draw some attention to them. Just to make sure, he'd taken the time to grab the inks his clan used to paint their skin - bought from humans, it was spelled to resist water, and was mostly used for special occasions. He almost never utilized them, but that morning it had felt right to decorate the back of his hand and bring swirling lines down to his wrist. Peter echoed the tattoos he'd seen on Stiles as best he could remember them, hoping the Octarian would appreciate the gesture.

All in all, he fully expected every eye to be drawn to the marks on his wrist, and he was sure he would preen every time he noticed it. He smiled down at it, pleased with himself, then swam off toward the visitor's quarters with powerful strokes of his tail. He ignored everyone that he passed, though he did spare a nod to Derek and a small smile for Cora. Thankfully he was able to avoid Talia altogether, and soon he had reached the suite that Stiles would be sharing with his fellows. Peter briefly wondered why it was that Stiles had come with them - he was clearly the youngest in the delegation, and while he was beautiful he doubted that was a reason to bring him along.

He put it from his mind as he knocked, however, intent on enjoying his time with Stiles. Before his fist connected with the door for the third time it was yanked open almost violently, and he came far too close to hitting the object of his affection. Stopping himself just in time, he turned his hand and opened his fist, turning the gesture into one where he could smoothly cup Stiles' jaw. "Good morning," he said with a smile, smoothing his thumb over Stiles' cheek.

"Good morning," Stiles echoed, eyes wide and skin flushing a sweet red. "I wasn't sure... you came."

"You didn't think I would? I do believe I'm hurt. Since we don't know each other very well I'll forgive you just this once. But Stiles - when I say I'll do something, I always follow through." A thought occurred to him, and he let himself drift a little closer to the Octarian, doing his best to contain his glee. "Did you leave me a present this morning sweetheart? Is that why you didn't think I'd come?"

"... maybe."

"The beads were lovely," he said as he searched Stiles' eyes.

"I made them when I was younger," Stiles was quick to reply, a smile hovering on his lips as one tentacle reached out toward Peter. If he nudged the appendage with his right arm to encourage the tentacle to wrap around him, that was entirely his own business. Well, it was Stiles' business too, especially since the tentacle wrapped around him with no hesitation, suckers moving over his skin almost like they were tasting him. "We all have to make at least two sets - that was my second. They aren't... they aren't as good as my friend Scott would have given you, but--"

"I don't want any beads from Scott, Stiles, no matter how lovely they are. Yours suit me just fine." Another blush fell over those pale cheeks, and Peter couldn't help but chase it with his thumb before sliding his hand down to cup the side of Stiles' neck instead. The motion drew Stiles' attention to Peter's wrist, and he saw the moment when Stiles realized what he'd done to draw attention to the marks left there.

"Peter," he said, voice sounding strangled. "You... that's..."

"I told you - I like the way you look on me." Peter told him with a shrug. "I want everyone else to see how pretty you make my skin look." Stiles made a sound that was nearly a shriek, then seemed to pull himself together. "Should I not have?" he wondered, for the first time realizing he may have crossed a line that Stiles' people found important. It was one thing to thumb his nose at Merfolk propriety; it was another to offend the people of his potential mate before they'd pledged themselves to each other. "I can wash the ink off if you--"

"No! I mean... no. It's... fine. Better than fine. Good. It's... so good. It's just hard to figure out... this would be easier if we were in my territory. I made sure it was alright to kill the fish, but--"

"Darling, if you're trying to court me I give you permission to kill whatever you need to. But first..." Peter carefully pulled away, making sure to be gentle with the tentacle wrapped around his right forearm. When he did, there were marks left behind, but they weren't anywhere near as dark or satisfying as the ones that had decorated his wrist. Swiftly hiding his disappointment, Peter bowed the way he'd seen humans do, then offered Stiles that arm. "I owe you a tour, I believe. Come while the day away with me."

Stiles grinned and took his arm, making sure to shut the door behind him as they left. Almost immediately the Octarian launched into a series of rapid-fire questions about Merfolk, Peter's home, and Peter himself. His questions were as delightful as Stiles himself was, showing a great deal of intelligence and wit. When he wasn't blushing and stammering because of their flirtations, Stiles was also excellent at responding to Peter's biting sarcasm with more of the same.

Peter was mer enough to admit he was smitten. Even if Talia forbade it, even if it didn't help secure the alliance, he was going to have Stiles as his mate. They'd spent the whole day together and Peter hadn't found himself bored even once. Better still, Stiles' tentacles and their suckers had kept up a light but constant exploration of him, moving over his scales and skin in equal measure. It was rare for Peter to be touched in his day-to-day life - he hadn't known how much he missed it until Stiles.

He had a feeling that he would be saying that about a lot of things in his future.

~.~.~

Well before Peter would have started the next day, he was yanked from his dreams by the sound of someone pounding thunderously on his door. Certain it was his sister, come to ruin his happiness from the day before, he didn't exactly rush to answer it... and was taken aback completely when the door slammed open before he reached it. Before his sleep-slow brain could process what was going on, each of his arms was held tight by a set of tentacles - neither belonged to Stiles, and Peter found the situation intolerable.

"What is the meaning of this?" he bellowed, tail thrashing and revealing his agitation. It took all his willpower to keep from fighting against his captors right away; instead he forced the rest of his body to go slack. If they thought he was submitting, he might find it easier to escape their hold should he really need to. The leader of the Octarians - John, Talia had told Peter that his name was John - no longer looked stern and noble. Instead fear and rage were mingled in his expression while washes of a bright yellow ran over his usually tan lower body. The vivid warning color made the Octarian's bright blue rings stand out even more, and Peter found himself certain that John was hanging on by a thread.

"Where is my son?!" John was even louder than Peter had been, human fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. Like Peter's, his lower body was an even clearer indication of how upset he was, tentacles curling into themselves before lashing out - if one managed to hit him, Peter had no doubt that it would be extremely painful. As the Octarian's words penetrated, Peter found himself at a loss. John had a son? A son he'd brought to this meeting? He hadn't known that, didn't know why they would think he knew anything about-- "Where is Stiles?!"

Shit.

"What do you mean, where is he? Did something happen?" Peter tried to move forward, but was held fast by the other two Octarians. He didn't even try to keep from snarling at the one on his left, but even the way the other winced back wasn't enough to mollify him. "I left him last night in the guest quarters. I was supposed to see him later today."

John was scowling as he watched Peter, but after a few moments he waved a hand and Peter was released. He hated the light suction marks they had left on his skin, and the two Octarians should pray they disappeared before he saw Stiles again. If his mate-to-be suspected him of any kind of unfaithfulness, Peter would gut the both of them.

"He was gone when I woke this morning," John said, beginning to move back and forth in the water, tentacles still barely under control. "I thought... I had hoped he snuck away to be with the Mer that he had been gushing over. He gave you fish and beads," John added in a mutter, running a hand through his hair. "I thought for sure he would... you really haven't seen him?"

"No," Peter said shortly, refusing to be worried just yet. He needed to stay as calm and collected as he could - he would give into the urge to worry and turn hysterical once Stiles was found. Then he would either kiss the Octarian senseless or strangle him, whichever was most appropriate. "Have you told my sister? Talia could--"

"You're Talia's brother?"

"And you're Stiles' father," Peter knew his voice was terse, but there was no helping that. As he spoke he was headed for his door, itching to put a plan in motion to find Stiles. "Clearly there are things we should have spoken of, but now is not the time. You have no idea where he could have gone?"

"No."

Peter didn't growl at Stiles' father, but it was a near thing. How could he have lost Stiles? He refused to talk to the Octarian as they moved, too busy trying to put a plan of action together. He didn't want to draw the attention of his entire clan, not with an alliance and Stiles at stake. There were some Merfolk that he wouldn't trust not to overreact - they would decide Stiles was a spy of some kind and might hurt the Octarian he wanted to take as his mate. Talia would have to be told, unfortunately, and then she'd stick her nose into his courtship which he wasn't looking forward to. Still, the warriors that he did trust to take the task of searching for his mate seriously all answered to her or his nephew.

Which meant he'd have to get Derek involved, which would intrigue Cora and Laura, and soon the entirety of his nosy, annoying family would be involved. Marvelous.

Despite the reluctance part of him felt, Peter sent the first mer they came across to fetch his nephew to Talia's chambers immediately. John frowned over at him, and he held back a sneer in return. He needed to make nice with Stiles' family, especially since their courtship hadn't been completed yet. Beyond that, the Octarian looked to be hanging on to his temper by a thin thread, and he had no doubt John wouldn't have a problem lashing out in his anger. It was a trait he admired in his people as much as Talia found it distasteful.

He hadn't wondered if the alliance was really a good idea for his own sake.

By the time Peter and his Octarian escort arrived at his sister's chambers, Derek was hovering by the door. His heavy brows were drawn into a frown, though one arched in a silent question once he caught sight of Peter. His nephews eyebrows said more than the dear boy ever managed with his mouth.

"My son is missing," John snapped instead of letting Peter answer. "If I find out your people know where he is--"

"I can assure you that we had nothing to do with it," Peter interrupted in his 'I'm very diplomatic' voice. "If even a hint of something like that had reached my ears, I'd have killed the one doing the whispering. Talia!" he called as he threw open the doors to her room - she'd know they were there, and this was no time to stand on ceremony.

His sister was scowling as she swam up to him, hair still mussed from sleep and none of her usual finery in place. "Peter. What is the meaning of this?"

"Stiles - my son - is missing," John said yet again, starting to go quiet in his anger. That worried Peter, and he did hope that this wouldn't turn into a diplomatic incident. For all that Talia and most of their clan considered them savages, Peter doubted they could stand against the Octarians if they found a reason to go to war. "I want him found, and I want an explanation - you assured me that we would be safe here, that no one would move against us--"

"None of my people had anything to do with this," Talia interrupted, and another wash of violent yellow ran over John's lower body. Peter thought if another person didn't let him finish the Octarian was going to do some damage. "Peter, why are you here?"

"Stiles has - apparently - initiated a courtship with your brother," John said, terse and to the point. "I had... hoped," he continued, though the grimace that accompanied the word indicated that he'd felt something completely different. "That I would find them together in Peter's room. Instead my son is missing, and I demand your aid to find him."

"Peter, you--" Talia stopped herself and shot him a look that meant trouble later, while Derek looked almost happy with surprise. It was strange to see his face without a sullen glower on it. "I apologize, John. Now isn't the time. Of course we will assist you. I assume you have an idea of where to start, Peter."

"Only who we should send. If word of this spreads, we may lose control of the situation. Derek, if you would be so kind as to lend me Boyd, Erica and Isaac I would very much appreciate it. Just do remind Erica to keep her mouth shut for the time being. And Talia, I believe we should use your honor guard - they would die before they betrayed your trust. Did Stiles say anything last night that gave any sort of clue as to where he might be?"

"No. He spoke only of you, and how he wished he'd been able to find something more impressive to offer you than mere fish."

"I liked the fish," Peter said, frowning at his mate's apparent insecurity. "He managed to catch my favorite." Peter had planned to prepare the both of them a meal using the gift for lunch, one of the first steps in the courtship dance of his own people. If Stiles didn't manage to come back to him before the midday meal, Peter was going to be rather cross with him.

"Stiles worries," John said, sounding both fond and exasperated. "If no one abducted him, I'm sure that after you parted ways he talked himself into thinking that you found his offering to be lacking. Once he gets his mind set on something... well. It is possible that he managed to sneak out," John allowed, looking unhappy at the admission that there might have been no wrongdoing on the part of the Merfolk.

"Excuse me," Derek's voice was unexpected, which meant it was probably something important. Peter turned toward him and made a gesture for him to continue, and his nephew did so with heavy brows. "But I don't know much of your rituals. Does Stiles need to hunt something to present to Peter for the first step of courtship?"

"In a manner of speaking. Usually we try to hunt a more dangerous creature to prove that we are capable of protecting our mates and any children that come from the union. However, if we are in an area where that's impossible or if an Octarian is a poor hunter, they may choose to hunt a prey animal instead to prove that they can still provide."

"Stiles was disappointed that he could only give me fish," Peter remembered suddenly. "He was worried about hunting things he wasn't supposed to in our territory. I... I gave him permission to kill whatever he needed to. I was jesting, but--"

"Well... shit," John said quietly, running a hand through his hair. "So he probably went off hunting, on his own, in unfamiliar territory looking for something dangerous. Lovely."

"I think... it might be worse," Derek murmured, reluctant as always to give his words away. "Stiles is... he is the one with the red markings on his human half, isn't he?" Peter saw just a hint of red dusting his nephew's cheeks and he didn't even try to keep himself from growling. Derek just rolled his eyes, eyebrows drawing even closer together. "I was talking with Cora and Boyd about the recent increase of invasions from the creatures of the abyss. He... may have heard. If he's so determined to impress uncle Peter...."

Dread swamped him, turning his human parts cold as the arctic sea. Even the least of the infernal beings was a monster, and facing one alone was akin to suicide. If Stiles ran into one of the larger, more dangerous creatures.... Peter propelled himself backwards until he hit the wall, using it to support himself as he tried to think. John had wave after wave of yellow washing over his tentacles, while the other two Octarians were changing colors as well. John and Talia were barking orders to their respective people, while Derek left to get Boyd, Erica and Isaac. On his way out he took just a moment to stop at Peter's side and give his shoulder a firm, reassuring squeeze.

His mate was out there hunting monsters born from darkness and nightmares, and Stiles was doing it to impress him. Peter was going to strangle the idiot once he returned, he decided as everyone but he and his sister left the room. He wouldn't kill Stiles, because many of the preparations he'd made to cheat death would work only for him, but he might maim the Octarian. His stupid, reckless mate deserved nothing less, and if he got hurt during this ridiculous attempt to win his hand, Peter would make him grovel for forgiveness.

Well, after he nursed Stiles back to health. Yelling at and strangling him would be far less satisfying if Stiles was already injured.

Making the decision that he'd let himself be weak for long enough, Peter took a breath and pulled himself together. Almost as soon as he'd left the support of the wall behind, however, Talia was on him. "An Octarian, Peter? Really? I have brought mer after mer to you, ones who were accomplished, refined and beautiful - some from clans even wealthier than ours! - and you spurned every single one of them--"

"They were boring," Peter said, eyes narrowing in a warning Talia was almost certain to ignore. "Most of them were also stupid or complacent. Stiles is far more beautiful than any of them ever were, and his mind is absolutely fascinating. So no, not an Octarian - I want Stiles. I don't know why you're getting into a snit, sister," he continued with a growl when Talia opened her mouth to argue. "This will probably help you get your alliance, though I had no idea Stiles was John's son. Though I had wondered why someone so young had joined the delegation... but none of that matters. Not until he's found and brought safely back here where I can maim him myself."

"Hmph. You call our people stupid. At least none of us would be so foolish as to--"

"I would think very, very carefully about the words leaving your mouth, sister dearest. Stiles will be my mate, so long as John doesn't forbid it. If you think I'll let you or anyone speak ill of him..." Peter trailed off, then gave Talia a smile that made her shiver and move back just a little bit. "Your position means nothing when it comes to him. If you can't keep a civil tongue in your head then I'll be happy to rip it out."

With that, he swept out of her chambers, heading for his own as swiftly as he could manage without rousing suspicion. Once he'd gotten there, he went straight for his armor - he had no intention of sitting at home flipping his fins while others searched for his mate. His chest piece had been made of the scales from the very monsters Stiles had gone hunting, given to a master blacksmith on the surface to turn into a protective work of art.

It was nearly impenetrable, black with a sheen of colors dancing over the surface like oil on water. It included a pauldron that covered his left shoulder in the shape of a leviathan, with it's eyes done in jewels that were the same color as Peter's eyes. The guards he pulled onto his forearms were far less intricate and far more flexible, giving him the dexterity he needed to wield the daggers he preferred. As soon as the belt that held six of them was strapped around his waist, Peter was off, headed for the place where they'd all agreed to meet.

If Talia or John thought to keep him out of this, he would stab first and ask for 'permission' later.

Thankfully Stiles' father did no such thing. Indeed, he and the other Octarians with him were kitted out in much the same fashion as Peter, though his weapon of choice was a spear. When he saw Peter approach, something close to respect and acceptance crossed his face, and the nod he gave was one of approval. Peter knew that many other underwater denizens considered his people soft, and they weren't entirely wrong. He was, however, happy to prove that not all Merfolk were content to stay in their shelters and let others protect them.

Once Derek joined them with his three underlings and Talia's honor guard, they spoke briefly to make a plan. Peter ended up in 'command' of two Octarians and Erica - it had been decided that breaking into groups that included both peoples was the best option. The Octarians were more battle-hardened, while the Merfolk knew their territory and the best ways to fight the beasts that rose from the darkest depths. Hopefully the mixed groups would be able to cover more ground and come back safely.

As they left their shelter, Peter swore once again that he would never forgive Stiles if he got hurt. Peter was already impressed, already determined to make Stiles his, after all. There was nothing that could make him change his mind... not even the realization that his mate was just a little bit stupid.

~.~.~

Peter wasn't the one who found Stiles.

Erica and the Octarians - Jordan and Liam - had done well despite that. They'd run into a few small threats and gotten through them all with nothing more than a few small cuts and bruises. The Octarians had impressed him quite a bit, and he'd been pleased with the way Erica was completely willing to work with them, adapting the way she fought to accommodate and compliment their own styles. It had reinforced the benefits of the alliance in Peter's mind, and if his sister found a way to fuck it up he was going to seriously consider a coup.

One of the last pitfalls they faced was a shark - aging and scarred from a life well lived, she wouldn't stop attacking until Peter finally ended her pain. She had gotten a few good smacks in with her tail, and his ribs felt bruised and tender as the four of them worked together to bring the carcass home. While his clan didn't often seek out shark, it would provide quite a bit of food, along with teeth and other things they could use. It would have been a waste to let the carcass rot in the water, and they'd been out long enough that Peter thought it best they check in to see if anything had changed.

On reaching the outer wall of the settlement, however, he saw that their catch was not going to be the big news of the day.

Someone had killed a druaqon. Though they weren't the largest of the dark creatures by far, they were still vicious and difficult to bring down without a solid plan and, preferably, at least three Merfolk. Peter very much doubted that any mer at all had been involved in the slaying of this particular brute, however. Not with Stiles standing proudly next to it, a spear dripping with black ichor; some of it was also smeared on his arms and in a long line down his back. Along that same line were large welts where the creature had gotten Stiles. Peter knew from experience that they were painful, and fully intended to sit his idiot mate down as soon as possible so he could care for them.

"Erica?" he murmured, eyes fixed on the wonderfully stupid Octarian he fully planned on twining his life with. "Could you please go to Deaton and ensure that a batch of the antidote for druaqon venom is being made? If no one had the brains to request it before I arrived, have him start one."

"So that's your mate, huh?" she said, voice heavy with interest and suggestion. "I can see why you like him so much Peter." When he slanted a look her way, she was grinning. As soon as he growled, the little minx winked at him, then flitted off to Deaton as he'd asked.

"Brat," he muttered before looking over to his Octarian helpers. "We can leave the shark here - the kitchens will come to retrieve the meat. I think we'd best go see how much trouble my mate is in."

"You two aren't even--"

"Shut up," Jordan interrupted before Peter could, elbowing Liam in the gut as he spoke. "Stiles went and killed a monster for him, and Peter was ready to kill one to keep Stiles safe. I have a feeling that if either John or Talia try to get in the way of this match they'll be the ones who ended up backing down."

"Of course they would," Peter said with a smile, deciding that he liked Jordan but would happily stab Liam a few times - though in non-fatal spots, since he had done well against the shark. "My sister knows better than to stand in my way when I want something... and right now I very much want Stiles." Octarians were stronger but Mers were faster. It was easy to put on a bit of speed and leave his temporary companions behind.

As soon as he was in earshot, he could hear John shouting at Stiles. Underneath the anger was a layer of fear and just a hint of pride; Peter hoped Stiles would take all three emotions to heart. He was also a little upset that John was the one doing the yelling, if he were honest with himself. Nothing between him and Stiles was official, as Liam had reminded him, so he had no true claim to be the one doing the shouting. He'd been afraid for his mate and angry that Stiles had so foolishly struck out on his own - he wanted to be the one threatening to wring Stiles' neck. But his father did still have first rights to that, unfortunately, so Peter supposed that for now he would play the supportive mate and save the scolding for later when they were alone.

In that spirit, Peter slid up to Stiles' side from behind, splaying his hand over Stiles' lower back where there were no welts. Stiles, who had been staring defiantly at his father, startled and then looked over at Peter. Instantly his expression melted to one of pride and pleasure, and Peter was suddenly hard pressed to be all that angry with him. "I found something better than fish," he declared, waving a hand at the dead druaqon. "I'm supposed to give you another set of beads, since my first offering was unworthy--"

"It was not," Peter interrupted, offended on his mate's behalf. "I was perfectly happy to accept those fish, Stiles. I had planned on using them to make the both of us a meal as my own first courting gift, but that's been rather ruined, I think." Stiles' face fell, and the proud set of his shoulders slid into a slump. Peter told himself to remain firm - he had a reputation to uphold, and all the gathered Merfolk could not be permitted to see how easily Stiles had wrapped Peter around his little finger. "I hope you will accept the shark I slew with some assistance from two of your people and one of mine."

There. That wasn't too soft of him, but it still brought some of the light back to Stiles' eyes. "You killed a shark for me?"

"Mm. Well, I killed it while searching the ocean for my intended mate, who vanished without a trace, telling no one of his destination. During that rather frantic attempt to find him--"

"I get the point, Peter."

"Oh, I very much doubt that. Regardless, the shark was killed during an effort to protect you, and I can prepare a meal just as well from it instead of your fish. I don't need another set of beads either, Stiles," he said as he leaned in to casually drag his cheek over Stiles' jaw. Peter was deeply pleased when two of Stiles' tentacles immediately began touching Peter. The tip of one was exploring the scales of Peter's tail, while the other wrapped around his waist from behind, curling around his side to rest on his chest as well. He could already feel the way Stiles' suckers were marking his skin, and he preened at the further evidence that his mate had chosen him back.

"This is all very sweet," John broke in suddenly, sounding exasperated, angry and fond. Peter had a feeling that combination of emotions might be common around Stiles. "But that was still an incredibly stupid thing to do, Stiles. I don't have words to express how stupid it was. Anything could have happened to you, and we probably wouldn't have even been able to find the body!" Stiles did flinch back at that, and Peter couldn't help but pull the Octarian protectively against his side. "You don't get to do that to me, kid," John said, suddenly sounding exhausted. "You don't."

"Sorry dad," Stiles said softly.

"I know. That doesn't make it better. And that doesn't even begin to address this... this... this!" John added, gesturing to where Peter and Stiles were connected. "What is this?"

"We're courting," Peter said smoothly, stalling Stiles' attempt to answer. From the way Stiles had gone rigid against him, he had a feeling whatever Stiles said wouldn't be helpful. "But I think any discussion of that can wait until after my mate's--"

"You're not mated yet!"

"Details," Peter said, waving the concern away. "Stiles is injured, is my point, and any discussion of our courtship can wait until they have been tended. Deaton should be finished with his concoction by now," Peter murmured, turning his head to speak the words against Stiles' temple. "Will you let me tend to you?"

The blush that graced Stiles' cheeks was both adorable and delicious, and Peter had absolutely no choice but to press a kiss to that rosy skin. "That sounds good. Nice. Yeah, let's do that. Hey daddy-o, as much fun as this has been, I'm going to let my mate--"

"You're not--"

"Why is everyone so worried about the formalities?" Stiles complained, plush lower lip pushing out in a pout. "We've done the first step of a courtship, which were actually the same which is nice, because we haven't talked about the differences between how my people court and how you Mers do it," he said, blinking at the realization. "Peter, why haven't we talked about that?"

"Because I woke up yesterday to find fish waiting for me in front of my door," he reminded the younger male, chuckling as an even darker blush washed over his face. "We'd only spoken once - I had intended to wait a little longer before offering you a token of my intent. You beat me to it, darling."

"Oh. Right."

When Peter glanced at John, he looked utterly resigned even with one hand covering his eyes. "Stiles," John said on a sigh before looking up at the pair of them. "I ought to lock you in your room until we leave. But you'd only find a way to wiggle your way out and find Peter despite it. So fine, go. You have my blessing. Just try not to skip any courtship steps, please, for my sake. Oh, and I expect you to come stay with my tribe soon, Peter - I won't have you two formally mating until that happens."

"Of course. I'd planned on doing just that."

"Good. Now go take care of my boy."

"Yes sir."

Peter ignored the commotion that was starting as more and more Merfolk learned what had happened. He breezed right past Talia without a word, guiding Stiles with a firm but gentle hand on the small of his back. By the time they neared Peter's room, Stiles was clearly beginning to feel the pain. The Octarian didn't say a word about it, however, choosing instead to bite his lower lip until it turned white and Peter began to fear that he'd bite right through it. The tentacles on Peter were also tightening, and he was sure he'd have dark bruises left behind by Stiles' suckers. While he wasn't opposed to that result, he was less than pleased with the cause behind them.

"Is your back the only place that's injured?" Peter asked, unable to help how terse he sounded.

"Yeah." Stiles looked over at him as they entered Peter's room, looking truly uncertain for the first time that Peter could remember. "You're angry with me, aren't you? I didn't mean to make you and dad worry, I swear. I meant to be back before anyone even knew I was gone. Not that that makes it better, probably, but I didn't think it would take so long. And I wasn't trying to find a creature from the abyss either, exactly, it just sort of... happened. I think it was injured or really young or something though, because it was moving really slow and it was pretty clumsy. I kind of thought I was going to die when I accidentally met up with it," he admitted, flinching at the wounded sound that escaped Peter's throat. He kept talking though, even as he laid on his stomach on Peter's bed. "I mean! I was hoping I could run away? Yeah, I was going to run away, definitely. I didn't just charge in or anything. Nope. Not me."

"Stiles?"

"Yeah?"

"This isn't helping."

"Oh. Sorry?"

They were interrupted by the arrival of Erica, who passed over the salve Deaton had made. She left with a lascivious wink, which made Peter roll his eyes. Curling up on the bed at Stiles' side, he gently washed away the ichor staining his mate's skin before beginning to apply Deaton's creation to the welts. Stiles did not take the application in a calm, stoic manner - the idiot whined and complained the whole time. It made caring for him less enjoyable and intimate, and Peter really was close to strangling him before the end.

The way Peter remained completely smitten despite that spoke to how wonderful his mate was.

After shucking his armor - he would clean and polish it later - Peter joined Stiles in the bed. It wasn't strictly appropriate, but they were courting. And considering the events of the day, Peter was fairly certain that they would be mated sooner rather than later and that no one would be able to stop their union. Not when they were so well matched and not when it would solidify ties between their two peoples. Besides, Peter had a feeling John would be hard pressed to find anyone else so willing and eager to take Stiles off his hands.

Stiles squirmed and wriggled and chatted for a ridiculous length of time before Peter huffed and dragged the idiot closer. Then the both of them were struggling to find a comfortable position, which was only made more difficult by the way Stiles' only option was to stay on his stomach. Eventually - finally - they settled with Peter on his back and Stiles draped half over him. It felt like he had tentacles everywhere, wrapped around his tail, torso and one of his arms. He couldn't wrap his arms around Stiles for fear of disturbing his injuries and the salve working to heal them, which meant he had to let both of them lay in a fairly uncomfortable position for far too long. Stiles' face was smashed against the side of his neck, where he'd probably start drooling and he was already snoring. He was too hot, too crowded, and too aware of Stiles to fall asleep with his usual ease.

Peter was certain he'd never been more content in his life.

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