~It’s the free day! Day 8! This was kicking about in my drafts for several weeks, so I wrote an extra thousand to get chapter 1 done! Enjoy!
You can also read it on AO3 and anything on my account, and don’t forget my inbox is always open to prompts!~
"If you wish to give in to your wolf's urges then perhaps you shouldn't be able to listen to your human side!" the witch yelled, spit flying from her mouth.
She raised a swirling blue and green hand, a flash of light bursting out of her fingertips and slicing into Peter like a knife. There was no blood for she had cursed him, not killed him, but his face changed, shifted into beta shape without his consent.
Before anyone in the clearing could blink, Peter had clawed out her stomach like she had done to so many others.
"Peter!" Scott roared, alpha power thundering through his voice.
The beta growled, crouching into a defensive position. His claws, soaked in blood, were held firm in front of him. He looked ready to pounce.
"Scott, calm down, the witch just cursed him," Derek said, keeping his eyes focused on Peter.
"That doesn't make killing her okay," Scott replied around fangs.
"Seriously, Scott, not important right now," Derek growled, glaring at him, "I think we should go to Deaton and find out what exactly that curse did to him."
Derek took a step towards Peter. He froze in his steps as Peter started to growl louder, and he quickly raised his hands in a placating manner. "It's alright, Peter. No one's going to hurt you, no one's threatening you, we're pack."
Peter stopped growling, but his claws and fangs didn't retract. His defensive stance didn't change.
"Maybe we should call Stiles and get him over here to calm Peter down?" Erica spoke up, a questioning lilt to her voice.
"Why Stiles?" Scott asked, even as he pulled out his phone.
Erica rolled her eyes. "Peter likes Stiles, obviously. His wolf probably likes him, too."
Scott looked incredibly offended by the statement but told Stiles to come anyway.
~
After twenty minutes of trying to calm Peter down, Stiles finally arrived.
"So, I'm not allowed to come fight the bad guy, but I have to deal with- oof!"
Stiles let out a groan as the cursed beta latched onto him, wolfed out face pressing into his neck.
"Well, that worked fast," Derek spoke with surprised eyebrows.
"Can anyone tell me why a shifted Peter is attacking my neck?" Stiles asked, raising an eyebrow as he glanced between each of them.
"The witch cursed him," Isaac shrugged.
"Can you tell her to un-curse him?"
Peter stiffened the tiniest bit in his arms as Isaac, Derek and Erica pointed to a shredded body.
"Do you guys know what the curse is?"
"The witch said something before she cursed him. Something like 'If you're going to listen to your wolf then maybe you shouldn't be able to listen to your human side.'"
"So, what you're saying is that Peter's only listening to his wolf?"
Peter snuffled into his neck and Stiles sighed.
"Great." Stiles wrapped an arm around Peter's waist, the other moving to his neck, and started walking them back to his jeep. "Alright, let's get him to Deaton."
Carefully, Stiles detached the arms that circled him, pushing Peter into his jeep.
"Are you human enough to do your own seatbelt?"
Peter grinned up at him with fangs, "No."
"I hate you," Stiles grumbled. Even though it was a blatant lie, he still leant over the werewolf to buckle him in.
Peter quickly took advantage of the situation, licking a stripe of saliva across the human's neck as he leaned back.
"Jesus Christ, you're gross," Stiles yelped, moving to wipe away the spit.
Peter gripped his wrist tight, eyes flashing blue. "Leave it."
Stiles huffed, "Fine."
Peter let go and Stiles shut the door. He rounded the hood of his jeep, buckled himself in and started the car.
"So, exactly how in control are you?" he asked as he drove down the forest path. He could see the other cars up ahead and followed them.
"Well, I can speak, I haven't ripped out Scott's throat yet and I haven't bitten you yet," Peter drawled back around fanged teeth.
"But you can't shift back and it's a lot harder to stop yourself from doing those things. Wait, bite me?" Stiles' eyebrows scrunched together, and he glanced at the wolf.
Peter grinned, "Yes, bite you."
Stiles trained his eyes onto the road and tried not to show any outer emotions, keeping his heartbeat and breathing steady. He couldn't control how he smelled, however, as he spoke, "Does this mean you're like how you were before you died?"
The wolf snapped his head towards him with wide eyes before his expression twisted into a smirk, "I guess it does. Is that a problem?" He sniffed at the air and took in the worry that rolled off of Stiles in waves, and the tinge of underlying fear.
"I mean, you did kill your niece and several other people, ripped up Lydia and you turned Scott. I guess you could say I'm a little concerned," Stiles shrugged.
"And you're concerned about me killing someone else?" he asked, though he knew that the boy wasn't.
"Yeah, what else would I be worried about?" he replied, though the tone in his voice conveyed how he felt about the question.
Peter's smirk turned into something a little more devious, a little more lecherous and a little more real. "Oh, I think we both know what else you're worried about."
"I'm not sure I do," Stiles lied.
"I think you're concerned about a repeat of what happened in that parking garage the night I died," he said, with just enough control to not lean over and grab Stiles' wrist.
"Why would I be concerned about you slamming my face into a car or destroying my keys?" he asked innocently.
Peter leaned in a little but managed not to grab onto him as he focused on his words, "Are you really forgetting my favourite part of that night, when I-"
"Careful, you don't know who might be listening," Stiles quickly interrupted, nodding towards the cars in front of them. It looked like they were getting close to Deaton's.
The werewolf chuckled, "It sounds like only Derek is listening, although it's possible he's only silent so he can brood. Now, where was I?"
"You were at the bit where you tell me why you seem to be so in control, even though you were just cursed to be out of control," the boy cut in again, jaw clenched just a little.
"It's taking a lot of control and concentration to not reach over and grab you, but I'm sure I'll give in once we're no longer in the car."
“Oh, joy,” Stiles responded sarcastically, rolling his eyes. Before Peter could say anything else, Stiles had started talking again, “What exactly does it feel like? I mean, to be more out of control and all that.”
Peter leaned back in his seat by a fraction. “It's like there's a devil on my shoulder, trying to convince me to follow my instincts without thought. Sometimes I don't even know what I'm doing until after I've done it. It's always there but I guess the curse has made it stronger, though I think the witch dying made the curse weaker than intended.”
“What's your little wolf devil telling you to do right now?” Stiles asked, curiosity peaked.
“It wants me to pull you closer and scent every part of your body. And every part really does mean every part,” Peter explained, placing a hand on Stiles' thigh.
The human jumped and twisted his body, trying his best to move his leg away from Peter without making it dangerous to drive. He couldn't hide the smell of arousal, though.
“And I repeat: oh, joy.”
A moment later, Stiles pulled into the parking lot of the vet clinic alongside the others. As soon as the two were out of the car, Peter had wrapped an arm around the boy's waist.
Stiles huffed but made no move to get away from the arm. He knew it would end in disaster if he did.
Erica and Boyd tried to get closer to them, no doubt wanting to help Stiles as they seemed to be fond of him, but backed off as soon as Peter flashed blue eyes and sharp fang at them.
“Mine,” he growled out, nosing at Stiles' temple to continue to scent him.
“Not yours, but okay,” came Stiles' response.
Peter huffed, the hot air fanning across Stiles' face. It was a weird sensation.
Stiles glanced around at everyone to find an angry and concerned looking Scott, wary Boyd and Erica, suspicious Allison and Lydia, unconcerned Isaac and a disgruntled Derek. So, the usual.
As they approached the building, Peter’s grip on his waist grew tighter.
“Hey, Peter, it’s okay. I won’t let Deaton hurt you,” Stiles murmured, turning his head to look Peter in the eyes.
The wolf nodded before nuzzling closer even as they kept walking.
“And what has brought you all to my doorstep this time?” Deaton asked as soon as they were all inside.
“The witch we were fighting cursed Peter. Then he killed her,” Derek seemed to tack on the last bit, not sure if it was important information or not.
Deaton frowned and made to move closer. He paused though when Peter tensed up and growled, baring his teeth.
Stiles couldn’t really blame the wolf for the seemingly over the top response.
“Did the witch say anything when she cursed him?” Deaton was seemingly unconcerned by the display as he asked the question.
“'If you're going to listen to your wolf then maybe you shouldn't be able to listen to your human side.’” Derek paraphrased.
“I see,” Deaton murmured. “And his actions after the curse was cast?”
"He wouldn't calm down and none of us could get closer to him without him growling."
"Well, it was more like one continuous growl that just got louder when we moved," Erica interjected. "He stopped once Stiles got here, though."
"My guess is that killing the witch has made the curse less effective and being around his anchor has lessened the effectiveness even more," Deaton supplied.
"Anchor?" Scott growled out, flashing his eyes and fangs at the cursed beta. Peter only responded with his own bared fangs.
Stiles sighed. "So, Doc, how long 'til the curse wears off?"
"Well, I can't give you any exact numbers-"
"Obviously."
"-but it will probably only last for a few days, if even that," Deaton said, ignoring Stiles' interruption.
Stiles sighed again before muttering, "At least it's not permanent or some bullshit." He turned around and left the building before anyone could convince him otherwise and was impressed when Peter managed to keep hold of him without tripping him up.
He heard several pack members call out for him, but he didn't stop until he was leaning against his jeep. He really didn't like Deaton, or anything associated with the man.
"Stiles, are you really going to just… hang out with Peter until the curse wears off?" Scott asked, eyebrows scrunched and raised to create a weird, concerned puppy dog look.
"I mean, yeah? Like I don't really want to, but also there are worse things I could be doing, and I don't have all that much choice." Stiles shrugged, ignoring how the movement made his arm rub against Peter's chest.
"I'm sure we can think of a less dangerous option," Scott tried.
"Any other option will lead to your throat being ripped out," Peter snarled.
Scott's eyes flashed in response to the threat and he took a step forward, trying to challenge the beta.
"Scott, stop," Stiles said, hard glare in his eyes. He quickly continued before his friend could interrupt, "You just have to leave it alone, alright? It'll only be for a few days, and it's not like I haven't spent the same amount of time hanging out with Peter before. It'll just be like a sleepover."
Scott looked like he was going to protest again, but Derek stepped in. God bless him.
"Scott, he's right. I don't trust a cursed Peter, but I trust Stiles to be able to handle it. You should too."
Derek then grabbed onto Scott's arm and forcibly removed him from the premise.
"Good luck, Batman," Erica called as she, Boyd and Isaac left as well.
"You will be okay, right?" Allison asked, glancing at Peter when he snarled.
"Yeah, don't worry. If I can survive a psychotic, crazy, murderous, alpha Peter then I can survive a cursed, feral Peter." Stiles grinned.
Allison and Lydia nodded their goodbyes with a flash of smiles, before they were gone too.
Stiles opened Peter's door and shoved him in before Peter could do anything.
"I'm not buckling your seatbelt again," he said before slamming the door shut.
Stiles and Peter both gave power to the Nemeton with their sacrifices and it paid them back in kind. Stiles gave his own life in exchange for his father’s. Peter did what no one else would and killed Jennifer Blake, her blood soaking into the Nemeton’s roots.
When Stiles starts having vivid dreams asking him to free Peter from Eichen House, he goes to confront the man, only to learn that neither of them have control over this. They’re linked through the Nemeton and it won’t let either of them be restrained.
Through their shared visions, Peter teaches Stiles about his powers, the powers the Nogitsune harnessed for its own benefit, the powers that Stiles himself can master.
Stiles is reluctant. Peter is where he deserves to be. This bond is more powerful than either of them though and as long as Peter is locked away, Stiles is shackled with him. Besides, it’s exciting, a jailbreak, a chance to test out what he’s truly capable of. And a part of him, a tiny little part, wants to know what happens when Peter is finally in front of him, in the flesh, all of the barriers ripped away.
“You should talk to him,” Derek says, turning a page.
Peter huffs and glares at the exam in front of him. “I most certainly should not.”
“It’s not like you, to ignore what you want.”
Peter didn’t bother responding to that.
Across the quad, a bright, loud laugh rings out, and Peter glares even harder at the paper he’s grading.
Derek sighs, quietly, at his side.
~*~
“Professor Hale?”
The voice is clear and bright, tinted with surprise and Peter closes his eyes, for a moment. Then he sighs, and smiles, twisting. “Mr. Stilinski, how surprising to see you.”
Stiles gives him an arch eyebrow. “Is it?” he asks, glancing at the marquee. Peter looks at it and laughs, a breathless noise that he almost hates himself for. “Indie movies aren’t featured that often, Prof,” Stiles says lazily.
Peter is all too aware of that. It’s the biggest problem he has with this damn tiny town.
That and the boy in front of him.
The boy who smiles, and scratches at the back of his neck, before grinning. “See you in there.”
Peter sighs and reluctantly gets his popcorn, before slipping into the theatre and giving Stiles an awkward smile.
He spends more of the movie watching the delicate curve of the boy’s neck than he does, watching the movie, and when he gets home, gets off in the dark, picturing the sleepy curl of Stiles’ lips.
~*~
It becomes a thing .
Stiles always seems delighted and a little scandalized to see a professor at the movie theatre at midnight, something Peter finds utterly ridiculous and not at all adorable.
The third time it happens, Stiles drops unceremoniously into the seat next to Peter in the theatre and spends most of the movie whispering his criticism, something that has Peter fighting a smirk almost the whole night.
It’s absurd. He doesn’t tolerate people talking during movies. They’re sacrosanct, the only time snark and commentary are put on hold--but Stiles murmuring in his ear makes him forget all about that.
Derek, when he hears about it, stares at him like Peter’s some exotic, newly discovered creature. “Who the hell are you?” he asks, flatly.
~*~
Stiles sweeping into his office at the end of Friday startles him. “Hey, prof,” he says cheerfully, and Peter bites down on the absurd desire to correct him, to tell him to call him Peter. That isn’t even remotely appropriate.
“Mr. Stilinski,” he says, instead, a frown gathering. “You--you aren’t in any of my classes.”
Stiles flushes, and Peter realizes abruptly that he looks wind tossed, harried and lovely. “Yeah, no--I just. I’m going home, for the weekend. I didn’t want you wondering where I was.”
A slight flush is in the boy’s cheeks, and Peter swallows at the sight of it.
“Oh,” he says, voice almost choked. “Well. That’s--very considerate.”
Stiles nods, shifts and grins. “I’m a considerate sort.”
Peter snorts. “I have watched movies with you, Mr. Stilinski. I’m under no such misconceptions.”
The boy gasps, all mock outrage and twinkling eyes. “Rude.”
Peter arches an eyebrow and Stiles’ smile goes soft and fond. “I gotta go. Um. Bye?”
He’s almost out the door, and Peter knows he should let him go but--
“Mr. Stilinski, perhaps you’d like to watch Amour with me Monday?”
Stiles goes very still, and Peter tries not to let his panic show.
Why, why why would he--
“Yeah,” Stiles says. “I’ll. Um. I’ll bring the popcorn.”
~*~
Having Stiles in his apartment is...a revelation.
Derek laughs himself silly, and makes himself scarce and Peter would be more annoyed if he were able to focus on anything other than the fact that Stiles would be here.
He thinks of all the ways it could go wrong, all the things he could say, or Stiles could see if he looked close enough.
Although, inviting the boy into his home is probably not the subtlest way for him to hide his ridiculous infatuation.
Still. Stiles crashes into his apartment with a tub of popcorn and a big grin, and settles next to Peter with his coke and Reese’s Pieces and watches, eyes wide and bright.
It’s...relaxing.
And the way Stiles sprawls at the counter, elbows braced and hands moving in an enticing argument, coffee steaming in front of him while Peter cooked them eggs and bacon, and they debated the cinematic elements and subject matter--that is better by far than any dark movie theatre where they inevitably go their separate ways.
~*~
They meet now, almost without discussion, on Fridays in the dark theatre, and Mondays in Peter’s apartment, and if he shows up for his lectures Tuesday bleary eyed and sleep deprived, he arrives happy.
~*~
The girl startles him.
She’s lovely, a small thing with bright red hair tucked under Stiles arm, her expression fond and indulgent as Stiles chatters a mile a minute, and she looks at him, appraising and cool, as Peter’s steps falter.
Stiles looks up and he grins. “Prof!”
“Mr. Stilinski,” he says, and Stiles’ expression does something he doesn’t want to think about.
“Get your ticket,” he says, happily, and the girl tugs on his sleeve, drawing his gaze. “Oh--right. This is--”
Peter glances at his phone, still clutched in his hand and waves it like a lifeline. “I can’t--my nephew had an emergency. I--I have to go.”
He turns and almost bolts into the night, ignoring Stiles’ shout and the searing gaze of the beautiful girl on his arm.
~*~
He avoids Stiles on Monday, hides at Derek’s house and refuses to admit that’s what he’s doing. On Friday, he goes to the Jungle, and gets mind-numbingly drunk, and then stumbles home and tries not to think about his boy alone in a theatre.
Worse, in their theatre, with that lovely redhead.
He spends Saturday watching trashy movies Stiles would adore, and drags himself to his sister’s on Sunday, where Laura is merciless in her teasing and Cora leans quietly into his side.
It doesn’t make him feel better, not really, but he doesn’t feel worse, either.
Until he exits the elevator and sees Stiles, knees drawn up and head tipped back against the door to his apartment.
They stare for a long moment, and then Peter says, “Mr. Stilinski.”
“You weren’t there, Friday.”
He doesn’t flinch.
Even though Stiles sounds hurt, like Peter did something wrong.
“I had plans.”
Stiles flinches, and Peter sighs. Looks away, because if he doesn’t he’s going to blurt out the truth and he can’t do that. He can’t--this boy, this beautiful infuriating, captivating boy has too much of him, already.
He can’t give him this.
“I thought--”
“What?” Peter says, sharply. “We attend similar movies. We’re not--it’s not--” He huffs, and shakes his head. “It’s nothing.”
Stiles makes a wounded noise, and Peter’s head snaps up.
“So,” he says, unsteadily, “you do that with all the nice young psych majors, prof?”
“Don’t,” Peter says, and Stiles laughs.
“You let-- you invited me here. You invited me here and made me dinner, you let me in and made me care about you, made me think you cared. And now you’re acting like I did something wrong but you won’t tell me.”
He freezes, caught up on the words, and Stiles looks so lovely, pale porcelain in the dark of his apartment.
“Just--tell me what I did, I can’t fix it if you don’t tell me,” Stiles almost begs and Peter makes a choked noise.
Stiles brushes a finger over his hand, and when did that happen--when did Stiles take his hand?--and murmurs, “Please, Peter.”
It’s the first time Stiles has called him that.
It’s the first time and it makes him gasp, sway into the boy, his eyes squeezing shut.
“Who was she?”
Stiles goes still, and then he sighs, a sigh that has tension running out of him like water. “My sister. Step-sister. Our parents got married when I was in high school. She wanted to see who I was so hung up on.”
Peter makes a noise, broken and hopeful and Stiles sighs, leaning in.
~*~
His boy kisses him like he’s precious, like he’s something delicate and rare and special , large hands framing his face, licking into his mouth and drinking down Peter’s noises of startled pleasure.
He holds him there, against the wall of the apartment, Peter’s hand wrapped around Stiles’ wrist, the other tugging him closer, and the door hangs open behind him, and Peter, through the haze of pleasure and Stiles’ murmuring, “You beautiful idiot , don’t you know I’m stupid over you?” thinks, this is the kind of love movies are written about.
~*~
They still watch movies. Friday nights are the quiet dark theatre, and their hands threaded together. Mondays Peter picks, and Stiles sprawls across him on the couch, and his eyes are bright and beautiful in the gleam of the TV.
On Saturdays though--Saturday, Stiles chooses, an endless stream of scifi and B-rated ridiculousness that he badgers Peter into watching with greasy pizza and shitty takeout, and if they spend more of it making out and grinding against each other on the couch, Peter thinks it’s a damn good way to watch a movie.
Thank you so much to the mods for making this banner and running this awesome event! I’m so excited to see everyone else’s works! @steterweek
Day one: Alpha Peter or AND Creature Stiles
Ao3 Link
“Uncle! I’m home!” Cora sang as she loudly barged into the once quiet house.
“Ah my favorite niece has returned from prison.” Peter said with faux cheer making Laura elbow him hard in the gut.
“I don’t know why you expected for that to go over well.” Derek chuckled from the dining room table.
“I am your alpha and this is how you treat me? I never!” Peter crooned, a hand placed dramatically over his heart.
Saturday nights with nieces and nephew around him and a book in his hand was not the way he had envisioned spending his adult life, but Peter wouldn’t trade his boring life for anything. His parents had died when he was twenty-three leaving him an alpha, and his sister a grieving mess. Talia had handled her grief by hitting the road; her husband had left to go find her, yet neither had returned. Laura had been six at the time and the only one that still has memories of Talia and Joseph. Every year the kids got postcards and presents for their birthdays and Christmas, but each year the gifts only seemed to highlight the emotional and physical distance between them and their parents. Peter considered himself a great surrogate father, but those first few years had been incredibly hard. Laura had blamed him for Talia and Joseph’s absence; Derek asked every morning and every evening when his parents were coming home, and Cora had been just a baby at the time. Peter had only thought vaguely about having his own children when he suddenly had three to take care of all on his own.
Looking back now, past all the struggles and hardships, Peter was almost glad Talia and Joseph had left him with the precious gift of their children. These kids had changed him into a much kinder man, one that lived a quiet happy life, and Peter was forever in their debt for the joy they gave him.
“Oh cool a snake!” came Cora’s excited voice from the patio, alerting Peter that he had approximately two seconds before Derek and Laura were going to freak out.
Peter clapped his hands to his ears and shot off the couch in time to miss Derek’s full bodied tackle and Laura’s ear splitting scream as she too launched herself in the direction of where Peter had been sitting.
“Now children! Calm down!” Peter shouted over the yelps of the eldest Hale children as he sent soothing thoughts down their pack bonds.
“Oh shit. Uncle come here! I think it’s hurt!” Cora’s voice was frantic, yet wet like she was already about to cry.
His sweet, kind hearted bad ass niece couldn’t stand when animals were hurt and it made his heart warm and break everytime she cried over an innocent creature. He left the quietly panicking young adults and made his way out to his brave Cora-baby and the wounded snake.
He froze as his eyes adjusted to the light and he saw that the snake was curled in Cora’s lap and blood was covering her legs where the poor thing was laying.
“I’ll call Deaton. Can you tell what type of snake it is?” Peter said calmly.
“Uncle, I think he’s a shifter.” Cora breathed.
“What do you mean he’s a shifter?” Peter asked as her stepped closer to sniff the air around his niece and the snake.
“He isn’t acting like a normal snake. He let me pick him up and look at his wounds, he came out of the woods and headed directly for me. He hasn’t hissed at me once. And the way he’s looking at you makes me think he knows you’re an alpha.” Cora’s words were calm and her body didn’t move at all just in case she was wrong and really did have a wounded animal in her lap.
Peter yelled for Laura to call Deaton before crouching down to look the snake in the eye, “Can you flash your eyes at me, sweet thing?”
Peter had never met a weresnake before and so he expected either beta orange or the more yellow-orange of the only other shifter he’d met who was a coyote, instead he was greeted with a gold like burnt honey. He gasped in the face of that bright beauty before he collected himself and slowly reached a hand out to touch the snake’s small body. The wounded creature did not move away or try to strike out, but instead slowly, painfully, lifted its head to meet his hand. Such a beautiful, strong little thing. Peter felt himself drawn to the strength and intelligence he saw in the snake’s gaze.
“It’s called hypermelanism.” Cora’s voice jarred Peter from the almost trance like state he’d been.
He made a questioning sound as he finally gently placed his hand on the beautiful scales and started drawing out the poor thing’s pain.
“His scales. I have been searching the internet while you two were communicating or whatever, and I’m pretty sure he’s a chocolate morph California Kingsnake with hypermelanism. The chocolate scales with only a splash of copper on his belly that gives him that metallic look is very distinct so it didn’t take long to figure it out.” Cora explained.
Peter hummed an agreeing sound, too caught up in the tidal waves of pain he was draining to speak.
-
“I did not scream.” Laura demanded with a childish stomp, “Besides, he’s a person! I’m not scared of a shifter.”
“So you admit you were scared of a snake?” Derek asked with a smirk.
“I remember you jumping around with your underwear in a twist with her nephew dear.” Peter reminded him from the kitchen.
Derek flushed a bright red, mumbling “Well at least I'm not a snake nerd that figured out the breed and morph before the vet even arrived.” before crossing his arms and making his exit.
“Such a spoilsport.” Cora laughed.
Peter hummed in agreement before asking, “Do you still have all the snake stuff from the last time you found one?”
Cora nodded before she ran up to the storage room, that had once been the master bedroom.
“Can you manage to go buy this guy some mice? Deaton said he has to be with an alpha to help the healing, but he’s going to need some food soon. I can’t take him with me to go hunt.” Laura gave him a disgusted face, “Fine. I’ll get your baby sister to do it so she can mock you for being a scaredy wolf again. Your call darling.” Peter knew Laura would fold under the threat of more ridicule, and she did.
“I feel weird about putting him in the tank, he is a person too.” Cora said as she entered the kitchen again.
Peter looked at the sleeping creature in his lap and sighed, “I know baby, but he’s injured and the last thing he needs is to get trampled by one of us because he can’t move fast enough to get out of the way. He blends in with our floors, so we’d never see him and you know that. We don’t have to put the lid on it though since he isn’t a normal snake. We’ll set him up on my desk by my bed so he stays close to an alpha through the night, but other than that we have to treat him like a regular snake until he’s healed or shifts back.”
He reached out a hand and gently rubbed a circle on Cora’s back before continuing, “He’ll be okay. I won’t let anything happen to him Cora-baby.”
-
A weird fluttering motion on Peter’s cheek had him cracking open a tired eye to look into the snake’s smiling face. Peter hadn’t even known snake’s could smile, maybe they can’t but it sure did look like a smile.
“Good morning little one.” Peter’s voice was a low grumble and the snake squeezed his arm in greeting.
He had no idea how he hadn’t woken up when the little devil snuck out of his tank and wrapped himself around Peter’s arm.
“How are you feeling?” Peter asked knowing the snake couldn’t verbally reply, but hoped it could make some kind of body motion to tell him if the poor thing was still in pain.
The snake squeezed once again, which Peter took to mean he was feeling better. Good.
Peter tapped one thick finger on the snake’s head and said, “You shouldn’t have exerted yourself by sneaking out of the tank you little devil.”
The snake pulled it’s head back and tilted it as if asking “How could you accuse me of that?”
Peter snorted and rolled his eyes, “Come on, I bet you’re hungry.”
“Jesus fucking christ!” Laura shouted, dropping the rag she had been drying her hands on.
“Nope. Just Uncle Peter, but thanks for the warm welcome, Laura-darling.”
“Oh shove it Peter.” Laura grumbled under her breath, earning herself a light punch to the arm as Peter passed her.
Peter grabbed one of the mice from the cage Laura had brought in and placed it in the sink before gently guiding the snake onto the counter.
“Jesus. Fuck. I didn’t need to see that this early.” Derek groaned from the entrance to the kitchen, his hair still standing up ridiculously.
“Contrary to popular belief I’m just your Uncle Peter. Good morning to you too, nephew dear” Peter smiled at his sleepy nephew and offered the boy the mug of coffee he’d poured for Derek.
At the sound of thundering steps coming down the stairs Peter lifted the lunch box, that he packed Cora’s breakfast and lunch into, and the purple thermos full of coffee into the air, only to be snatched out of his hands immediately.
“Thanks! Gotta go! Love you!” Cora called over her shoulder as she raced out of the house, followed by a chorus of “love you too”s.
“Thank god we aren’t in highschool anymore.” Derek sighed, leaning his head onto his sister’s shoulder as he sleepily ate his pancakes.
“Do either of you work today or are you just going to laze around the house?” Peter asked, one eyebrow raised in judgement.
“We get it Uncle Peter.” Derek sighed.
“Yeah, we know.” Laura frowned, faux irritated.
Brother and sister joined forces to say, “When I was your age I was raising three kids on my own and trying to write a novel!” dramatically and in sync.
Peter just waved away their playful mocking, “If you can repeat that back to me then the meaning should be clear by now. I just want you two to find your passion and run with it. We have the rare privilege of being able to chase our dreams. Don't waste it my loves.”
Almost identical faces nodded solemnly at his words, their minds wandering to questions of the future.
“Well we know what Cora will be doing at least.” Laura said with a fond smile.
“Ah yes. Speaking of our little veterinarian in the making I need to go check on our new friend.” Peter remembered the snake he’d left on the counter to eat his breakfast.
“That's my cue to leave.” Laura said hurriedly as she pushed her chair back and rushed to the door.
“Have a good day Laura-darling. Love you.” Peter called from the sink, Derek yelling something similar.
They heard the faint “love you too" Laura yelled from the driveway before getting in her car.
Peter had been slightly worried that the snake would be too injured to handle live prey, and was relieved to see him curled happily in the corner of the sink, swollen where the mouse was digesting.
-
“Uncle! I’m home!” Cora sang as she barged into the once peaceful house.
“How was jail?” Peter asked from his place on the couch.
“Hi home, I’m Derek.” Derek called out from the kitchen before giving a loud snort of laughter at his own joke.
“Fucking nerd.” Cora mumbled as she set her bags down by the door.
“It seems our little devil missed you.” Peter said with a smile as the chocolate snake that was curled around his forearm began slithering up his arm and across his shoulders to flick its tongue out in greeting.
“Hey there little guy. How ya feelin’?” Cora murmured to the pleased snake.
The snake slid up onto Cora’s outstretched hand and curled himself around her arm.
“He’s physically healed by now, so when do you think he’ll be okay to shift back?” Laura asked more likely out of a desire to not see a snake every day than concern for the creature’s well being.
“He can shift back whenever he wants. He should’ve finished healing earlier today.” Peter informed with a shrug.
Cora laughed as the little devil let out a quiet hiss in Laura’s direction before moving across her shoulders to watch Laura haughtily.
-
Peter woke up wrapped too tightly in the blankets and burning up. He cracked his eyes open and was met with messy brown hair and pale skin instead of his navy comforter. His brain was instantly running at normal speed, shaking off sleep quickly. The snake had finally shifted back, but was it on purpose or did he shift back in his sleep? If Peter spooked him he could easily shift back and remain a snake until he was comfortable again.
Peter decided to slowly wake him up and try to keep him as comfortable as possible. The boy was completely wrapped around Peter; one leg hiked high on Peter’s hips, the other was hooked around Peter at their ankles. He had one arm across Peter’s chest, his hand gripping Peter’s collar bone, and one arm curled around Peter’s arm that was between their bodies. The boy’s head was resting on Peter’s chest and tilted away from view, so Peter still had no idea what he looked like or how old he was.
Peter slowly reached with his free hand and started rubbing slow circles up and down the boy’s arm before he mumbled lowly, “Little devil. Wake up my little demon. It’s time to get up honey.”
The most gorgeous boy Peter had ever seen blinked sleepily at him and let out a questioning hiss, giving Peter a wonderful view of the boy’s pouty mouth and sensuous tongue behind pretty teeth.
“You shifted back Little devil. Can you talk yet?” Peter murmured lowly, still rubbing slow circles on the boy’s arm.
The boy blinked again and looked down at his pale arm that still rested on Peter’s bare chest. He slowly looked back up into Peter’s eyes, amber meeting oceanic blue, before letting out a yelp and shooting off the bed.
“Oh god I’m so sorry!” The boy started panicking, his heart beat loud in the once quiet room.
Before Peter could try to calm the boy down his bedroom door burst open and a frantic, half awake Cora was in his doorway shouting, “Is everything okay? Why are both of you freaking out?” a pause as her eyes caught up with her mouth, “You shifted back! Hello! Did Uncle freak you out?”
The boy didn’t even have time to blame Peter before Cora was hitting him on the shoulder with more force than necessary.
“I haven’t done anything. Our guest here has only just realized he shifted back in his sleep.” Peter explained calmly, standing up to put on clothes.
“How did you hear our hearts?” the boy inquired, his panic giving way to curiosity.
“Our Cora-baby here has the best hearing, but she apparently didn't have the frame of mind to recognize that two human hearts were racing.” Peter answered, raising one eyebrow at Cora for not realizing the snake had shifted and that was why he was panicking.
Cora gave a weak, awkward laugh before mumbling, “Well I’ll leave you two alone to talk alpha to snake or whatever.”
Peter smiled at the closing door before tossing the boy a shirt and a pair of basketball shorts.
“You can put those on if you want.” Peter sat on the bed before continuing, “What’s your name sugar?”
“Stiles.” The boy answered quietly as he pulled the shorts on.
“Hello Stiles. My name is Peter and I am the Hale Alpha. Do you have a pack or family I should contact?” Peter asked, getting the formalities out of the way.
“No.” This reply was quieter.
“Okay, love. How old are you?” Peter asked finally turning to look at the now dressed boy.
“I’m twenty.” Stiles replied, this one at least was a normal response.
“So you’re in between Derek and Cora’s ages. That’s good. Why were you hurt?”
“A werejaguar hunted my family, and I was the only one able to escape.” The words a whisper in the quiet room.
“Why would it do that?”
“My father is a sheriff and had connected her to several homicides. She killed him first. My mother and I were on the run for two years before she found us two towns over. I’m harder to track and fight when I’m shifted so I ran after she-” Stiles broke off as tears began falling down his face harder than before.
Peter approached the boy slowly and pulled him into a tight hug, one hand softly rubbing circles in the boy’s back. He didn’t know who this boy was, who his parents had been, but he was going to end his suffering so that the boy could have peace and justice for his parents.
“You’re safe now. I’ve got you.” Peter mumbled into the boy’s hair, gently rocking them side to side.
Stiles slumped further into his arms and sighed “Werewolves are so warm.”
Peter smiled and continued to comfort the boy until he realized the boy in his arms was asleep.
“Well that’s one way to calm down.” Peter chuckled to himself before swaying them over to the bed and laying Stiles down.
-
“As long as he doesn’t get his weird snake body on me I am happy.”
“Oh shut up. He probably doesn’t even want to touch you to begin with.”
“Children. Please.”
“I’ll be happy to have him Uncle Peter.”
“Thank you nephew dear. Girls?”
“You know I’m in Uncle!”
“Yes Peter.”
“Good. Now if you’re finished listening in, Stiles, please join us.”
Shit. He’d been caught. Of course he’d been caught they were werewolves, and he knew that at least one of them could hear his heartbeat across the house in Peter’s bedroom. Stiles hung his head guiltily as he entered the living room where the four werewolves had been discussing something about him. He hoped they were discussing keeping him, not eating him or something.
“Hi.” was all Stiles could say as he sat down next to Peter in the only available seat.
“Hello Stiles.” Cora chirped with a cheery wave.
He smiled at her before turning to look into Peter’s very handsome face. He tried to push down the memory of Peter’s stirring dick against his thigh when he’d awoken and realized he was naked and sprawled atop Peter’s only slightly more clothed body. When he was shifted he knew he prefered Peter’s heat and arms to Cora’s, but both human and snake had always been a fan of thick meaty arms. It’d been so long since Stiles had been able to actually think about love and sex and ending up in Peter’s lap, literally and metaphorically, had been a blessing because the man checked every single one of Stiles’ boxes.
“I didn’t hear much.” Stiles mumbled, unable to look into Peter’s intense eyes.
“That doesn’t bother me sugar. Listen to anything you want. We hear everything anyways.” Peter used two fingers to lift Stiles’ face to look at him properly before continuing, “I have something to ask you sweet boy.”
Stiles immediately flushed as ideas of things he wished Peter would ask him flashed through his mind.
“Shoot.” was all he could force out without risking saying something embarrassing like “Yes I will go down on you.”
“Would you like to join our pack? We can protect you and I can help you get justice for your parents. I want to help you Stiles, and my pack has agreed that we want you.”
Stiles was speechless. All thoughts of sexy time with Peter were drowned out by the wave of grief he felt at the mention of his parents deaths, but then that too was replaced with bright, shiny hope as he realized just how much protection he could have if he was surrounded by four grown werewolves. Peter was giving him a boon and Stiles was floored by his generosity.
“You don’t have to reply right-”
Stiles cut Peter off by hurriedly saying, “Yes! Yes Alpha Hale please accept me into your pack.”
“With pleasure sweet boy.” Peter’s grin was so blinding in its beauty that Stiles almost didn’t hear the happy words the Hale betas were saying to him.
-
“Thank you Peter.” Stiles knew it was the fifth time he’d thanked his alpha, but he honestly wasn’t going to be stopping anytime soon so he didn’t feel bad about it.
“Anything for you my sweet boy.” Peter spoke lowly, his voice a rough whisper across Stiles cheek as his hands came up to cup Stiles’ face.
“You’re so good to me.” Stiles whispered, closing his eyes against the intensity of Peter’s gaze.
“You’re good to me too, love. Have been since that first night. I sleep better with you in my bed. I breathe better with you in the room. I am better with you in my life.” Peter’s confession left his lips and wrapped itself tightly around Stiles’ heart much like the many times he had wrapped himself around Peter.
“You’ve saved me.” Stiles breathed out his eyes still shut tight against his and Peter’s feelings.
“I will always make sure you’re safe. You’re mine, little devil” Peter only used the name he’d give Stiles all those months of pining and sexual tension ago when he was just a nameless injured snake that Peter had protected.
“Will you be mine, Alpha?” Stiles asked, finally opening his eyes to look at Peter’s blood smeared body, knowing it matches his own, and his heated gaze.
“Whatever you want my sweet little devil.” Peter whispered before closing the gap and kissing Stiles beside the cooling corpse of his parents’ murderer.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Day One of Steter Week, Creature Stiles:
He did not expect for the fox to immediately stop snarling and lunge out from under the tree root, right into his arms. Even more surprising was a moment later, when he was holding an armful of naked preschooler.
“Where’s Mommy?” the kid wailed. “Where’s my mommy?”
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Teen Wolf (TV)
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Characters: Peter Hale, Stiles Stilinski
Additional Tags: Murder Husbands, Corpse Disposal, Cryptids, a garnish of Scott negativity
Series: Part 3 of Steter Week 2018
Summary:
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Title: Murder Mate
Relationships: Steter
Additional tags: Murder Husbands, Soulmates, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Platonic Soulmates, Mild Gore, Blood, Blood and Gore, Asexual Stiles Stilinski, Asexual Character
Summary: Peter didn't expect to officially meet his soulmate for the first time when he was bloody and asked to help dispose of the corpse. Not that it made him unhappy.
That’s for Steter week 2018, July 24: Soulmates/Mates AU AND Murder Husbands AU, because I can. Happy Steter week everyone!
Where do I find the theme blurbs and examples? Thanks
Sorry! We actually never posted a list, but here’s something that Mads and I threw together.Alpha!Peter: werewolves, creature Peter, omegaverse, or etc. Whatever kind of Alpha you want him to be.Creature Stiles: were-anything, dragon, fae, angel, etc. As long as Stiles is some kind of creature or descended from one.Magical Stiles: spark training, telekinesis, elemental power—any type and level of magic as it applies to Stiles!Mating Bite: omegaverse, rituals, last resort, accidental—how do you see that affecting Stiles and Peter?Soulmates/Mates: Fandom is full of soulmate and mate tropes. Whether you want first words, names, marks, the person who smells best—it’s up to you!Murder Husbands: No need for actual marriage as long as they have a partnership that includes murder!Sugar Daddy/Baby AU: dire straits, getting off on providing or indulging, contacts, or accidental—there’s something about this trope that keeps us coming back for more. Touch Starvation: Apparently, our fandom loves to make Steter suffer! Maybe no one touches Peter anymore, or everyone seeks comfort from Stiles without thinking to reciprocate. Or even both! We’d love to see what you come up with.Neckz N Throats AU: photoshoots, the werewolf gaze, flirting and maybe jealousy—give us Steter interacting in a soft/hardcore magazine setting!Florist/Tattoo shop AU: flirting with flowers, first tattoos, or trading services—who works where and how do they fit?BAMF!Stiles: Competency. Competency. Competency. Show us a Stiles who always manages to save the day.Time travel: This one is pretty self-explanatory, but anything that involves time shenanigans is fair game. From the horror (or absurdity) of an endless time loop or the drama of someone going back to stop a terrible future, we want it all.Pining: Give us the misery of Stiles thinking that Peter would never want him. Or the lengths Peter would go to have Stiles in his life. If you throw in a happy ending, we’ll forgive any amount of angst ;)Werewolves are known: This theme could happen on any of the other days, and it’s totally okay if it does. Basically, any kind of AU or divergence as long as the world knows that werewolves exist.That’s all, folks! We look forward to seeing your work <3
