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takaraphoenix · 3 months ago

Text

What Keeps Me Going

Tags: m/m/m, polyamory, Post-Nogitsune, PTSD, trauma, hurt/comfort, Erica Lives, Boyd Lives, Alpha Peter, Spark Stiles

Main Pairing: Chris/Peter/Stiles

Side Pairings: Boyd/Erica, Isaac/Allison (past)

Teen Wolf Characters: Mieczysław 'Stiles' Stilinski, Chris Argent, Peter Hale, Noah Stilinski, Erica Reyes, Vernon Boyd III, Isaac Lahey, Jackson Whittemore, Derek Hale, Cora Hale

@writersmonth Prompts: dark + bakery

Summary: After the Nogitsune, Peter picks up the pieces. He takes care of his lover, until Chris finds something to keep going on. Stiles. Allison died to save Stiles, they saved Stiles. As long as Stiles was alive, was safe, then Allison didn't die for nothing. Peter, who'd been in love with Stiles for a long time now, approves, so they take care of the boy together.

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What Keeps Me Going

Stiles Summer Stories 2024

For the first two weeks after Allison's death, Chris was pretty much catatonic. He was completely checked out, disassociating from anything. He'd lost his sister, his wife, his father and now his daughter – his entire family had died within the span of just a little over a year. And while he had come to terms with most of those deaths and the fact that the one he'd lost had brought that fate upon themselves, Allison was different. Allison was his daughter. His little girl. Too young to die. Too good to die. She should still be here. How could he keep going without her?

Those first two weeks, Chris had no idea what happened. He'd later learn from Peter that his lover had been taking care of him. Bathing him, feeding him, keeping him hydrated. It made Chris' heart ache that he had caused his lover this much trouble, and that Peter cared enough to go through all of that for him. He'd kissed Peter fiercely for that and it earned him probably the brightest smile he'd ever seen on Peter's face. He wasn't good, far from it, but he was present again.

"Hey, kid," Chris' voice was rough as he walked into the kitchen.

Isaac sat at the table, poking at his cereals like they'd offended him. The kid had been handed around so much in this past year, from his abusive father to Derek, to the McCalls and, apparently, now to Peter and Chris. When Chris first noticed the boy sleeping curled together on Allison's bed, he'd frozen and had just a moment of thinking it was Allison, before recognizing that the shape didn't match. Peter had gently taken him aside and explained. Explained that between Scott and Isaac both not taking it well, things were a little too much for Melissa, explained that Isaac sought Allison's scent, explained that Peter couldn't turn the former Hale Pack beta away. So there was now a broken, hurting blonde werewolf pup living with them.

"Morning," Isaac looked up at him tentatively.

There was a sense of solace between the two of them though. Like Chris, Isaac had lost everyone. His brother, his mother, his father, now his lover. But Isaac was so young. Chris was already breaking and he had years of life experience, but Isaac? He was just a kid. A kid shouldn't have to go through that. So Chris accepted him, even let him continue staying in Allison's room.

"Anything interesting happening in school today?"

Chris was trying. He was trying really hard. Trying to keep going even though he'd lost so much. So far, he was mostly forcing it for Peter's sake. He'd troubled his lover so much, he couldn't keep letting Peter feel the brunt force of it and take care of him. So Chris went through the motions of sleeping, eating, showering, shaving. Forcing it. Isaac was a good kid, Chris thought he deserved better than a man going through the motions, going through the routine of parenting. Chris wished he could be a parent, but being a parent had been taken away from him when Allison had been taken away from him, so how could he possibly ever get back to it properly?

"No," Isaac got a far off look on his face, troubled. "I just hope… Never mind."

"What is it?" Chris frowned at the kid.

He got himself a coffee and sat down opposite Isaac. Moments later and Peter joined them, finished with his shower. The wolf went to get breakfast started in what was a heartachingly domestic routine. Chris couldn't tell if that helped or made things worse.

"I hope Stiles shows up today," Isaac whispered, averting his gaze.

"What… do you mean?" Chris' frown deepened and he felt himself tense.

He also felt Peter's eyes on himself. Careful. Isaac ducked his head a little.

"He hasn't been to school since…" Isaac trailed off, unable to say her name.

But that had been five weeks ago. For the past three weeks, Chris had slowly, gradually come to himself again, had been working on mimicking a semblance of normalcy. His head snapped over to Peter, near instinctively. Because his mate usually held the answers – information was power and Peter loved only few things more than power; coincidentally, Stiles was one of those few things he loved more than power, which meant there was no way Peter didn't have the answer.

"You'll have to use your words, Christopher," Peter said nonchalantly.

But Chris could see the tense line of his shoulders. Peter was fiercely protective of the boy and right now, he couldn't tell what Chris was feeling or thinking. Hell, Chris couldn't tell what he was feeling or thinking. If he was being honest, he hadn't even thought about Stiles in these past three weeks. He hadn't thought about anyone outside this apartment in these weeks. He couldn't. For the first week, the only person he thought of was Allison, then, slowly, Peter and Isaac joined.

"Is he…" Chris swallowed hard, swallowed the word 'alright'. "Jesus, just tell me, Peter."

With a sigh did Peter put the spatula down and turn around to face both Chris and Isaac, who now perked up with wide eyes and stared at Peter too. "He hasn't left his bedroom since… since we got him back. The dear sheriff is trying his best, but Stiles has been pretty much non-responsive and non-verbal since. Quite frankly, if Eichen House hadn't been its own whole trauma for Stiles, the sheriff would probably consider checking Stiles into a mental facility at this point."

It hit Chris like lightning, all of a sudden. Stiles needed to be alright. Chris nearly got whiplash from the intensity of that thought and he didn't know what to do with it. So he simply grunted and returned his attention to his coffee. He was well-aware of Peter's obsession with Stiles, Peter had never made a secret of it, had point-blank told Chris that he was also in love with Stiles and that he planned on courting the boy once he turned seventeen – and then the possession had happened. Chris had never minded it, he appreciated the honesty, and if he was being honest, he'd never quite seen Peter stand too much of a chance with Stiles. Not that he ever told Peter that. But sure, in the unlikely event that Stiles returned Peter's feelings, Chris would be willing to share his wolf, because Peter's happiness was all that mattered and if having both Chris and Stiles made him happy, so be it. Still, Chris had never looked at Stiles as more than Peter's infatuation and Allison's friend.

/break\

They were cleaning up the plates from dinner – Chris had eaten half a plate, which was an improvement and his wolf had preened at him proudly – when Chris realized what had bothered him that morning. The realization came as sudden as that feeling had this morning. He'd been halfway to the sink with Isaac's plate in hand when his eyes landed on one of the many pictures on the fridge. It was from their earliest days in Beacon Hills. Stiles, Scott and Allison, all squished together and smiling at the camera. Allison was in the middle, Scott half kissing her cheek while smiling, Stiles' arm around her neck, with that lopsided, impish grin of his. Chris was so startled by the realization, he dropped the plate, letting it shatter on the floor.

"Chris?" Peter sounded alarmed, coming to stand in front of him and gently cupping his face. "Darling? What's wrong? Are you alright?"

"I need to see Stiles," Chris whispered in a raspy voice.

Peter froze, his eyes more guarded now. "...Why?"

"She died to protect him," Chris' voice cracked a little and he could see Peter tense further. "She died when we were all trying to save him. And we did. We saved him. She… She didn't just die. She wasn't just attacked by something, or fell in a fight. She died to protect someone she loved. And she succeeded, Peter. We succeeded. I need to see Stiles, I need to see that he's still alive and that she didn't die for nothing. That we did what… what she died for."

Tension seeped out of Peter and the wolf took a shaky breath. "Okay. We can do that, darling."

For a moment, Chris wondered what had made Peter tense so much to begin with, but his thoughts and feelings were far too mangled for him to concentrate on it. All he could think about was the startling realization that Allison hadn't just fallen in a fight, he had died for someone and that someone was still alive and Chris needed to… needed to see so for himself.

"Come," Peter spoke gently as he picked up his car keys. "Isaac! We'll be out for a bit!"

Chris paused for only a moment as he stood in the doorway, realizing that for the past three weeks, he hadn't left the apartment once. Peter did all the grocery shopping, brought Isaac to school and picked him up again. Swallowing hard, Chris took another step, crossing the threshold. Once again, he was rewarded for the smallest progress with a blinding smile. Peter slipped his hand into Chris' and pulled him along toward their parking garage. They drove in silence, Chris' mind distracted.

He only focused again when they pulled up in front of the Stilinski home. Taking a deep breath, Chris raised his hand to knock on the door, Peter next to him, holding his hand once again. When the sheriff opened the door, Chris recognized himself in the man. The tiredness, the lines on his face, the disheveled state. He looked a lot like Chris had during his first week of awareness.

"Hale," Noah's voice was flat. "Didn't know you knew how to use a door."

Chris frowned, observing how Peter first tensed and then smiled. "Ah. You… noticed."

Noah snorted, crossed his arms and blocked the doorway, not letting them in. "I'd be a lousy sheriff if I didn't notice the grown man breaking into my underage son's bedroom every night, for weeks."

The frown on Chris' face deepened. He'd sometimes noticed Peter not being there when he woke up at night, but he had attributed it to Peter needing some time to himself too. He used to go on morning runs, when Chris had still been able to be an actual damn help in the house. So Chris had assumed Peter had moved his morning runs to the night. It hadn't crossed his mind that Peter might spend his nights in Stiles' bedroom and Chris didn't know what to make of it.

"If you knew… why did you let me?" Peter's voice was curious, but his eyes were guarded.

A deep, tired sigh escaped the sheriff and in that moment, he seemed to age another decade. "Because he's been having less nightmares when you're over. I tried. I tried my damn hardest to comfort him and to make him feel safe but he doesn't. The first night you sneaked into his room was the first night he actually slept through. I'm not…"

Noah swallowed, looking down at the ground. "I don't get why you do it, or why you make him feel a semblance of safety, but… I'm at my wit's end, Hale. I just want my boy to get better. I'm not going to take something that helps away from him, even if I don't understand it."

Peter nodded, stiffly, but Chris could see the way his chest swelled with pride at being able to provide his chosen mate with comfort. Chris gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

"My question is what brings you to my door, though," Noah raised an eyebrow, and then turned to look at Chris. "And what brings you here, Argent."

"I…" Chris swallowed hard. "I think I need to see him."

The sheriff just raised his eyebrows, silently urging him on to give more information. And Chris supposed that was fair. The two didn't know each other and Chris was the partner of the man who had, apparently, been breaking into his son's bedroom for weeks.

"She died to save him and I need to see for myself that we did save him. That she… That she didn't die for nothing," Chris forced himself to continue. "I need to see that he's… safe."

The sheriff's face twisted into understanding, grief and pain. With a short nod did he step aside and allow both Peter and Chris into the house. Chris followed Peter inside.

"I trust you know where his room is, Hale."

Peter gave a nod and led the way upstairs, Chris clinging tightly onto his hand. Without knocking, Peter opened a door and led them into what was so clearly a teenage boy's bedroom, it made Chris huff just a little. Until his eyes landed on the bed. Stiles looked… small. Curled together in the middle of his bed, facing the center of the room. Tense, not relaxed in sleep. He had dark bags beneath his eyes, his skin much paler than Chris remembered, hair messy and greasy, face much thinner than it used to be too. It made Chris' heart ache to realize something horrific.

They hadn't saved Stiles. They'd exorcised the Nogitsune, but they clearly hadn't saved Stiles.

Without thinking on it, Chris walked over to the bed and sat down next to the boy. Resting a tentative, shaky hand on Stiles' cheek, then running it through his hair. He'd been so wrapped up in his own grief, he hadn't spared a thought to anybody else and how they were dealing with things. Because, selfishly, Chris didn't care. That was their grief, theirs to deal with, he had enough to deal with himself. He still didn't care. Not about others. About Isaac, yes, because somehow, Isaac had become a part of his life and though Chris was still struggling with Isaac's place in it, he undoubtedly had a place. But nobody outside of their apartment had mattered, until now.

"You've been coming here? Every night?"

"No," Peter sighed, though he looked tense. "I only started coming by after you… came back to me. I couldn't leave my mate unprotected and vulnerable."

Chris swallowed hard, swallowed the words on the tip of his tongue. But you consider him your mate too. It didn't need to be said. He could see the pain on Peter's face, could see that this had not been a choice made lightly, but that he had trusted Stiles to have his father, while Chris had no one.

"What do you do?" Chris asked softly, still caressing Stiles' hair. "When you're here?"

"Usually, I read a book," Peter offered, pointing at Stiles' book-shelf. "Or I continue his work. Our work. We had… before the possession… we'd started working on a unified bestiary."

This time, he motioned at Stiles' laptop on the desk. Chris grunted, frowning a little. Peter shrugged, understanding the unasked question even so.

"I just sit here and watch over him," Peter confirmed. "Nothing more. He doesn't… take too kindly to touch, when he's aware."

Chris realized that Peter was sharply watching the way Chris was running his fingers through Stiles' hair. After a moment, Chris pulled his hand back. A small whine escaped the sleeping boy, startling them both. They paused, looking at him, watching. But Stiles didn't wake, he simply curled together even tighter. It made Chris' heart clench.

"Okay," Chris nodded, determination filling him in a way he hadn't felt in too long.

Peter raised one curious eyebrow, but when Chris left the room, he followed. Noah was standing at the bottom of the stairs, arms crossed. Waiting for them. The man looked so tired. He might not have lost his child the same way Chris had, but if Stiles truly hadn't talked or left his room in weeks? He had lost his son in a way too.

"Hold on," Noah grunted before they could reach the door. "Go to the kitchen and take your damn Tupperware with you, Hale."

Peter actually froze at that, eyes widening in surprise. "So you figured that out too, huh."

"I am starting to feel insulted by what you think of my deductive skills."

"I had hoped you'd think the food was from Melissa," Peter offered a charming smile.

Something twisted on the sheriff's face. "Melissa has both her hands full with Scott. She doesn't have time to take care of me. She shouldn't have to, either."

Chris frowned surprised. So Peter hadn't just been taking care of him, Isaac and Stiles? He'd also been taking care of the sheriff? His eyes were intense as they bore into Peter and were ignored.

Noah sighed, soft and in defeat. "Thank you, Hale. For watching out for him. And… me. I still don't know why you do it, but I know we wouldn't… I appreciate it."

There was something calculating in Peter's gaze as he regarded the sheriff. "I love your son."

The other two men in the room froze. Chris hadn't seen that coming, neither had Noah.

"He doesn't know," Peter continued, before he could be interrupted. "It's not like we are having a secret affair. I was planning to tell him and to start courting him after his seventeenth birthday, to work our way up to… more… by the time he'd turn eighteen. And then the… Nogitsune happened. I love your son, whether he knows it or reciprocates it doesn't matter, I'm going to help him as best as I can. And taking care of you, dear sheriff, is a part of that. If Stiles had actually left his room and seen the state of this place that first week I came over, it would break his heart."

The sheriff actually flinched at that and Chris made a mental note to inquire further, later.

"I love him and I will take care of him, as best as I can, and as much as he… or you… allow."

When it looked like the sheriff wasn't going to reply, Chris and Peter headed toward the door. Just before they could close it behind them though, they heard Noah call out softly one last time.

"I hate spinach," Noah muttered. "But I like your salmon. And use the damn door from now on."

Peter looked utterly pleased with himself as they closed the door behind themselves and headed toward the car. Chris waited until they were buckled in and driving away from the house.

"What state," was all Chris asked.

The pleased look made room for a grim one. "There were empty bottles of… various alcoholic beverages all over the house, empty take-out containers, leftovers rotting in them. Clearly, the sheriff had been coping with Stiles' state in the only way he could. Drowning himself in alcohol. And I'm aware Stiles does all the cooking in this household, so I suppose I could be glad that the sheriff was eating anything at all. Still, Stiles wouldn't want his father to live from take-out. So I have been… cooking more, when preparing our meals, and leaving a container in their fridge whenever I came to watch over Stiles."

Chris shook his head, regarding his lover's side-profile. "How. How are you taking care of me, of Isaac, of Stiles and of Sheriff Stilinski. How do you…"

"I know grief, Christopher," Peter kept his eyes on the road. "You're my mate. Of course do I take care of you. Stiles is… Of course do I take care of him. And taking care of him means taking care of his father while he can't do it. The pup, I admit, was a surprise. But the first time I found him breaking into our apartment and curling together on Allison's bed, there was… a stirring."

"I need you to explain what that means."

"He was part of the Hale Pack," Peter whispered. "When there still was a Hale Pack. I felt the stirring of a pack-bond. I've never… cared for Scott's puppy pack. I still don't. I only stick around for you and Stiles, otherwise I would have followed Derek and Cora to London already. This was the first time I felt a pack-bond since they left."

Chris hummed, regarding his lover. Nobody knew loss better than Peter Hale. The loss of his family had been devastating, but Chris knew that the loss of pack had hit him even harder. A wolf needed pack, otherwise they went insane. The way Peter had gone, after his coma, after his pack had died or abandoned him. Only when he became an Alpha and started forming a pack of his own had he very gradually regained some grasp on his mind, but it didn't come back fully until he came back from the dead to join a proper pack – Derek, Isaac, Boyd, Erica, Chris knew that Scott and Stiles had been part of the Hale Pack back then too. Pack had helped him recover.

Chris had known he'd kept Peter here, he knew that when Derek and Cora had declared, after Derek had lost his Alpha spark – lost the Hale Alpha Spark – that they'd leave Beacon Hills, leave the bad memories behind, Peter wanted to follow his pack, his only living family. But he had stayed. And Chris thought that, maybe, he would have been ready to leave with Peter, together with Allison, but he hadn't wanted to tear her away from the first real friends she'd ever made, from the boys she loved – she might have been with Isaac and might have loved him, but Chris knew that a part of her had also still loved Scott, had never stopped loving Scott. All of that was something he couldn't take away from his daughter. Now he wished he had. She'd still be alive, she might have resented him for a while but they'd started a new life in London and she would have been fine.

But she wasn't. She was dead. And he needed to live in the now, not in the what-ifs.

"What do you want to do now, darling?" Peter asked softly.

"Help him," Chris frowned. "I don't know how, but… but he needs to live, because she can't."

Peter refrained from commenting and Chris was grateful. He was aware how it sounded, how unfair it was to put this burden on Stiles, but he also couldn't find it in himself to care, right now.

/break\

Over the following three weeks, they started a strange, new routine. They got Noah's number, and his work-schedule. When the sheriff was working, Chris, Peter and Isaac ate at home and the two men only left for the Stilinski house after, leaving Isaac to do his homework and head to bed. Whenever the sheriff was home in the evening though, Chris, Peter and Isaac would eat dinner at the Stilinski house, together with Noah. It was stilted at first, they didn't know each other, they had no connection, this was an unusual situation. That eased, with time.

There was a guest-room at the end of the hall, a dusty place that, according to the sheriff, hadn't been used since his wife passed. Before, her family would regularly visit, especially during her stay in the hospital. Now, it hadn't seen usage in years. Chris and Peter didn't take him up on the offer, the whole point was for them to watch over Stiles, after all. After two weeks though, Isaac took the guest room for the first time. Because they'd talked long, after dinner, and when Chris and Peter headed upstairs to Stiles' room, Isaac had remained at the kitchen table with Noah, doing his homework with the sheriff's help. They'd run so late with it, Noah had insisted the boy stay over too, go to the guest bedroom that had been waiting for usage for two weeks now and sleep there.

At this point, Isaac also stayed the night whenever he was over with them. It seemed to help the kid too. It seemed to help the sheriff too. Chris felt like it was helping all of them, even Peter, because he didn't have to split his time between the two households like he had before, he got to watch over both his mates at the same time. It was good. Strange, but good.

After the first week, Peter bought a sleeping couch for Stiles' room. They rearrange furniture under the near vacant gaze of the boy, putting the couch up right opposite his bed. Chris wasn't a damn wolf, he couldn't spend all sleeping in a seated position, after all. It frightened him that Stiles didn't comment, didn't react. Was that what Peter had dealt with with him, in the beginning?

That day, he kissed Peter, with more fierce passion than he had mustered since Allison's death, trying to convey how sorry he was for what he had put his lover through.

The routine was good. The routine worked. Well. It worked for the sheriff – Noah, the three men started being on a first-name base after two weeks of their new routine – and for Chris and Peter and even Isaac. Only Stiles, the whole damn reason they were there, didn't seem affected.

Or so they all thought, until after roughly three weeks had passed. Peter was laying behind Stiles, holding him close. Stiles had had another nightmare that had left him screaming his lungs out. The only thing that calmed him was tight physical contact. Being restrained, essentially. It eased him back to a fitful sleep. Usually, Peter would then simply stay in Stiles' bed. After all, it was the only time someone was allowed to touch the boy. Even when he stared vacantly ahead during the day, if someone touched him, he'd violently flinch away from it.

Chris woke up, that morning, and rolled over to look at Peter and Stiles, just to find Stiles staring straight at him. It startled Chris. He'd always assumed that Stiles remained asleep until after they left, he'd always lay still, breath evenly, eyes closed.

"Good morning, sweetheart," Chris offered gruffly.

And when had he started adapting Peter's damn nickname for the kid. He didn't expect a reply. They kept talking to Stiles, greeting him, wishing him a good night in the evening, whispering reassurances during his nightmares. Isaac would sometimes sit with him during the day and tell him about school, about how the rest of the pack was doing (never about how they were doing in regards of Allison. Never bringing up her death. They didn't want to make him retreat further).

"Morning."

Chris froze at that single word. The voice was rough and cracked, disused for too long, but it was Stiles' voice alright. Behind Stiles, Peter visibly tensed too, clearly also awake. Ice-blue eyes snapped open and stared at Chris in marvelous surprise.

"Do you…" Chris swallowed hard, not wanting to say the wrong thing. "Do you want some food?"

Stiles shook his head in a jerky motion. He didn't look away from Chris though.

"Do…" Chris didn't want to ask, but he had to. "Do you know how much time has passed?"

Because he remembered coming back to himself, disoriented, feeling like Allison had only just died that day even though it had been two weeks and that realization had been jarring. Something twisted on Stiles' face, something that Chris couldn't identify, and then Stiles looked away.

"Fifty-eight days," Stiles muttered.

Three weeks. And two days. Chris' own face contorted into a pained grimace as he realized that Stiles was acutely aware of the passage of time and had been counting the days since the possession had ended. Fifty-eight days. Chris nodded slowly, taking a breath and smoothing out his face.

"How much… of what's happened since then, are you… aware of, sweetheart?"

No verbal answer but the look in Stiles' eyes changed. Sharpened. Everything, was the unspoken answer. Chris didn't know what to do with that, either. He looked at Peter for guidance, but his wolf looked as lost as he felt, and too overwhelmed by the fact that Stiles was speaking again.

"Do you want me to get your father?"

A quick jerk of his head. No. Not ready for the emotions and the guilt, Chris guessed.

"That's okay," Chris reassured him. "We're just glad you're back with us."

Stiles' face screwed up again, a look of confusion. "Why?"

Chris huffed out a hollow laugh at that. "Because we were worried about you, kid."

The surprise sharpened. Mh. What had Stiles thought they were doing here, then?

"Stiles," Chris made sure to keep his voice very soft. "Why do you think we're here?"

Silence. The question would require too many words, for now. Chris sighed. They accepted the silence and allowed Stiles to just lay there, staring at Chris with too much intensity. At breakfast, they didn't tell the sheriff about this just yet. No need to get his hopes up if this was just a blip.

/break\

Five days later, Chris got his answer. He hadn't expected it. Him and Peter were curled together on the couch, watching Stiles sleep, or so they thought. It was dark in the room, they couldn't even see their boy, so maybe the darkness helped Stiles find his words.

"To make sure I don't hurt anyone."

The words were whispered and small and they broke Chris' heart. Peter behind him whined. Actually whined. A sound the proud wolf would never willingly make.

"Sweetheart," Peter's voice cracked. "Is that why you let me stay here every night? Because… Because you thought I was protecting others from you?"

A stretch of silence and when Chris started to believe they wouldn't get an answer anymore, Stiles spoke again. "Dad's safe when you're here."

"Your father is perfectly safe whether I am here or not-"

"No," the word was sharp, forceful, startling Chris. "What if it comes back. It'd use me to hurt him. He's safe when you're here. You'll stop me."

Peter got off the couch and walked toward the bed, sitting down next to Stiles. Chris followed him, regarding the boy with sad eyes. That… Chris hadn't considered this yet. He'd thought it was grief and PTSD, not that Stiles was afraid of the Nogitsune returning, of him being used to hurt others.

"I'm here to protect you, Stiles," Peter spoke forcefully. "And your father. But not from you."

Stiles frowned up at them, confusion clear in his eyes. It should be a victory to see emotions in those big, brown eyes again, but not this. Not like this. Chris sighed and reached out to run a hand through his hair, just to have the boy flinch away. Right.

/break\

The next day, they told the sheriff, and Isaac, about the fact that Stiles talked. Both were overjoyed by the news. They also, very gently, explained to Noah why Stiles was okay with Chris and Peter being in their room. Chris could see the way the man's heart broke and when Noah headed upstairs, Chris couldn't help but follow. Concerned. He didn't want it to escalate.

"Hey, kiddo," Noah's voice cracked. "Chris and Peter told me you're feeling more talkative now, mh? They… They also told me that… that you think they need to protect me from you?"

There was a pause and Chris could only imagine the wrecked look on Noah's face. "Kiddo, you don't… I'm sorry. I'm sorry I wasn't there for you the way I should have when we lost your mom, I'm sorry you ever started to think that you need to take care of me. I'm your father, I'm supposed to protect you. I'm trying, I promise I'm trying, I promise I'll do better, but please, please don't… don't retreat again, don't shut me out. I can't lose you too, Mietek."

A small, broken noise came from Stiles at the name and Chris briefly wondered if that was Stiles' actual name, or if it was a private pet-name between father and son. Whatever it was, it must hold significance, because the next moment, there was sobbing. Broken, wrecked sobs from Stiles. Emotions. Letting himself cry, finally, after all these weeks. Chris sagged against the wall in relief.

"It's going to be okay, kiddo," Noah whispered as he finally got to hold his boy close again, for the first time in months. "We're going to get through this, together, okay. We're not alone this time, Stiles. There are… There are people who care about us, who are helping us."

Chris was startled by the warmth he felt in his chest at these words. It started to feel too intrusive to listen in, so he returned back downstairs to the kitchen, where he found Isaac with his head hanging low and a sad smile on his lips. Peter was staring out the window, a far-off look on his face. Right. Werewolf hearing. Approaching his mate, Chris wrapped his arms around Peter's waist and pulled him close against his chest, kissing the back of his neck.

/break\

"Just move in already."

Noah sounded long-suffering as he said these words the next morning at breakfast. It was a Saturday, one of the rare ones where all of them had gotten to sleep in. Isaac stared up from his cereals with a startled expression, eyes flitting between the three adults. Peter stood frozen.

"You lot haven't left my house in over a week," Noah raised his eyebrows. "And even before that, you have come to spend more days here than not, for weeks. It would be significantly easier if you just moved into the house for good. The kid needs a stable home, not a tug 'o war."

He motioned at Isaac at these words, making the blonde blush a little. Chris turned to exchange a startled look with Peter. His wolf was radiating eagerness in a rare manner. Chris was stunned to find his own heart fill with a warm sense of eagerness. The apartment had stopped feeling like home when Allison had died. It had become a shrine. Too many things hadn't been moved since she died – her toothbrush, her papers on the living room table, all things in her room that Isaac didn't need to disturb to sleep in her bed, even her favorite cup still stood upside down at the sink where she had put it to dry off after rinsing it, the day they'd left, the day she had…

"Where do you suppose we are going to stay?" Chris raised his eyebrows.

Noah shrugged and turned away from them. "I still don't know what to make of whatever kind of relationship the two of you have with my son and if we were in… any kind of normal situation… I would disapprove. But this isn't normal. Nothing about it is. I'm aware you sleep in his bed more often than not at this point, because he lets you touch him. So. Buy a bigger bed."

"You…" Peter trailed off and shut up at the sharp look from Noah.

No need to poke him. They knew Noah allowed them to stay, knew he allowed them to comfort Stiles. But between them sleeping on a couch in Stiles' room and buying a bigger bed so they could sleep in the same bed as him? There was a difference there.

"He's talking again, Peter," Noah's voice cracked. "I thought I'd never hear my boy's voice again. I don't understand this, but it's working for him and I just… need him to get better. But you are paying for the bed, we absolutely do not have the money to spare for that."

"Naturally," Peter said smoothly, perking up even more.

Getting to provide for his chosen mate. Chris snorted softly. He remembered all the ridiculous gifts his wolf had left him during their courting phase. A soft smile spread over Chris' lips at that. At Peter being allowed this. And he realized, the smile was not just for Peter's sake.

"What do you say, kid?" Chris asked, turning to Isaac. "You've been moved around with little say for a while now. If you don't want to…"

"I like it here," Isaac blurted out, eyes wide and hopeful as he stared at the sheriff. "I like being here. And I think… I think what I was doing wasn't… wasn't healthy. Living in her room. I was clinging onto… I need to… It's time to move on. I think. Not… Not forget, but…"

"Move on," Noah repeated kindly. "I know what you mean, kid. Feel free to make the guest-room yours, mh? If you want anything moved out of it, just say so."

Isaac perked up at those words and nodded enthusiastically. Well, now they at least knew what they were going to do with their weekend. Chris took a sip from his coffee, feeling oddly okay. Like he was going to be okay. For the first time since her death, Chris had the feeling that things could be okay again. He blinked, startled by that realization, unsure how to feel about it.

/break\

They started out with buying a bed large enough for three. Ridiculously expensive, in Chris' opinion, but nothing was good enough for Peter Hale, at least not when he bought it for his mates. This was the first thing he got to buy for both his mates, so Chris indulged him. Besides, it was a damn comfortable bed. They managed to coax Stiles onto the couch while dismantling his old bed and putting up the new one. While Peter and Chris did that, Isaac sat with Stiles and talked to him.

The rest of the day, and all of Sunday, were spent packing up the Argent apartment. Noah came along to help them too. This was the hard part. The hardest was Allison's room. Chris stared down at the boxes with her name on them, with her things in them, and he didn't know what to do.

"We can put them in the basement," Noah suggested gently. "With Claudia's things."

The reminder of the sheriff's loss made Chris nod jerkily. The basement sounded good. With the very last of the boxes in their hands did they leave the apartment for the last time, heading to the Stilinski house. Heading home. The thought filled Chris' chest with warmth.

Because it was the truth. He had come to think of the Stilinski household as home a while ago. It was warm, it was filled with the people he cared about. He saw Isaac and Noah doing homework at the dining table, Peter and Noah watching some crime show and bickering about who the culprit was, himself and Noah in the man's office, bending over whatever current case Noah was working on, himself and Peter curled together on the couch after a long day. This was home.

The couch went out again, so they had room for another closet, for Chris and Peter's clothes. Stiles just laid on their new bed, watching the two men put away their clothes like they owned the place.

"Why," Stiles asked softly, halfway though.

"Because we care about you, doll," Chris offered after a moment.

And when had he found his own pet-name for Stiles? The boy curled tighter together but didn't comment otherwise. Yet both Peter and Chris were acutely aware of his thoughts. They shared a look and a sigh. It would take some longer to convince Stiles that he was worth being cared for.

/break\

When Peter and Chris woke up in their new bed for the first time, they woke up alone. A cold fear gripped Chris and he stared around wide-eyed. Peter's eyes flashed blue and he inhaled deeply. He relaxed some, which meant Stiles was still in the house, so Chris also relaxed. The two of them went downstairs together. What they found was a surprise.

Stiles stood in the kitchen, wearing just his boxers and one of Chris' shirts – he'd gone to bed wearing a Batman graphic tee, which meant he'd gotten changed on his own – and he was holding a cup in his hand. When Chris entered the kitchen, Stiles thrust it out at him. Coffee.

"Did… Did you make coffee, doll?" Chris asked, looking from the coffee to Stiles.

Stiles nodded sharply and returned to the coffee maker to pour another cup, handing this one to Peter, who smiled delighted at Stiles and thanked him like he'd just been handed the Hope Diamond. Both men sat down at the table together, their eyes not leaving Stiles, even as their hands found each other, linking on top of the kitchen table. Stiles remained by the coffee maker, filling two more cups. He seemed nervous, tense. But he stayed.

"Good morning," Noah yawned and scratched his stomach as he scratched his stomach. "Isaac is still asleep. He claims 'five more minutes' but he did that ten minutes ago alrea-"

He stopped in the middle of the word when his eyes landed on his son. Upright, outside his own bedroom. Holding a coffee cup in his hands and holding it out to his dead with an unreadable expression on his face. It took Noah some moments to process.

"T… Thank you, kiddo," Noah smiled warmly. "Did you make that?"

Again, Stiles nodded, buzzing with nerves. The smile on Noah's lips widened as he took a sip. After a moment, Peter got up and walked over to start breakfast. Stiles stayed standing in the corner, watching Peter. Like he wanted to help, but couldn't bring himself to interact that much yet.

"It's quite alright, sweetheart," Peter assured him gently, also picking up on it. "I got it covered."

With a nod did Stiles go and sit down with his dad and Chris. When Isaac walked into the kitchen, he paused surprised for only a moment before recovering and thankfully enough acting as normal as possible. Chris smiled proudly at Stiles, earning the faintest flush from the boy.

/break\

Chris was sitting at the desk in their room, at his laptop. Working. He'd started consulting the sheriff's office in a more official capacity, after the first couple cases that Noah had asked him to take a look at. The supernatural was still a danger to this town and the sheriff's station not being in the know had cost many of them their lives already.

While Chris worked, Isaac and Stiles were sitting on the bed together. Isaac was talking about the last date Kira and Malia had gone on and how they accidentally ran into an actual ghoul, which had majorly ruined date-night, of course. And while Stiles still wasn't talkative, he would ask the occasional, short question. Showing interest. Interacting. It filled Chris' heart with pride.

"So…" Isaac trailed off, awkwardly, fidgeting.

Chris raised an eyebrow, watching the boy from the corner of his eyes. Stiles tensed and hummed inquisitively. Both of them waiting for what had Isaac nervous.

"Boyd and Erica asked about you," Isaac was still fidgeting with his phone. "I told them you're… you're doing better. Not good, but better. And they… they asked if you would be okay if they came over? They're currently in California and they'd love to swing by, see you."

Now it was Chris' turn to tense. Stiles had only barely started leaving his room last week and he was only talking in short sentences and still avoiding to speak as much as possible. He hadn't seen anyone outside of this household yet, not even Scott, even though the rest of the pack kept asking about him, apparently. Chris could see the way Stiles was holding his breath. Chris could also see Peter just outside, gripping the doorknob hard. Ready to come in and help in case this caused Stiles to have a panic-attack. Even though both Chris and Isaac had gotten pretty good at dealing with those too, Peter's instincts didn't let him leave his mate suffering alone.

"It's okay if you're not ready," Isaac said softly. "I could go and meet them at a diner or something. But I didn't want them to come to Beacon Hills and you not knowing about it, I know you three…"

Had been very close ever since they'd been kidnapped and tortured by Gerard Argent. That part remained unspoken but known by everyone in the room. Chris couldn't help the guilt twisting his cut, his hands shaking slightly. But yes, he'd known from Isaac about the fact that though Boyd and Erica had left Beacon Hills a year ago, before the Alpha Pack had attacked, that the two teens stayed in contact with both Isaac and Stiles, separately.

"They'd like to see you, but they also understand if that's too much for you just yet."

"I want," Stiles' voice broke at how forceful his words were. "I want to see them."

Chris' head snapped over, staring at him in surprise. Isaac beamed at Stiles, nodding.

"Okay, awesome. I'll text them, let them know to come over. They'll be really happy."

Chris couldn't help but smile, pleased. Progress. Their boy was making progress.

/break\

When Boyd and Erica arrived, they first hugged and scent-marked Isaac excessively. Chris hung as far back as he could, still remembering the two teens strung up on electricity in his basement, remembered letting them go and watching them leave town. They looked good. Healthy, happy, grown up. Erica was wearing flannel over a too tight top, leather pants that quite frankly looked uncomfortable, and her hair in shoulder-long curls. Boyd had grown his hair out some though, not overly long but in twists that fell around his chin, a shade of beard on his face.

"I missed you so much," Erica gasped, nipping at Isaac's jaw.

"I see you got more in tune with your wolves since we last met."

Both betas turned to look at Peter at his words, all three of them flashing their eyes. Chris smiled amused. He wondered if Peter felt a bond with them too, the way he had with Isaac. There was a certain tension in the air. He'd ask later. When they were alone.

"Okay," Erica straightened up and took a deep breath. "Where is he? How is he? What do we need to do when we meet him, like, what's a big no-no?"

"He's in the shower right now," Peter replied, noticing that Chris was uncomfortable with this interaction. "He'll be another moment, so why don't you come inside? Something to drink?"

Both teens nodded, though they did look wary. Chris couldn't fault them. They didn't know Peter, they only know of Peter, and there was a damn lot of reputation there. The five of them headed to the kitchen together, Peter getting glasses and sodas out for the teens.

"He doesn't like to be touched," Isaac answered her question after a moment. "He only lets Peter touch him, otherwise, he needs to be to initiate contact. So… don't just jump him? And don't expect him to talk. At all, or a lot. He still only speaks rarely, so don't take it personal."

Boyd and Erica both nodded and listened attentively. Chris appreciated that. He came to stand next to Peter, taking his mate's hand for reassurance. This was a big step for their boy and they were both nervous about it. Peter gently ran his thumb over the backside of Chris' hand.

"We suggest the living room for this," Peter tagged on after a moment. "I am not comfortable letting you into my den, but the living room should suffice."

Neither of the two reacted to that, which meant Isaac had told them about their current living arrangements. Chris wondered what they thought about it. When they went to head into the living room did both Boyd and Erica pause in front of Chris for a long moment.

"Thank you," Boyd spoke softly. "We never… got around to saying that, back then, before we left."

Chris' eyes widened in surprise, but he gave a jerky nod. He hadn't known what to expect. Gratitude wasn't it. Even if he had gotten them out of the basement, ultimately it had been his fault that they ended up in there. If he'd been stronger, against his father, if—Peter squeezed his hand, pulling him out of his spiraling thoughts. They headed into the living room together. It didn't take much longer for Stiles to come downstairs. He was wearing one of Isaac's shirts and Peter's sweat-pants. He'd taken to wearing their clothes, all four of their clothes. Covering himself in their scent. The two wolves in the house appreciated it immensely.

"Hey, Batman," Erica offered him the broadest grin.

While Isaac, Peter and Chris had sat down on one of the couches – there were now two couches, since the sleeping couch from Stiles' room needed a new home – Erica and Boyd had remained standing. Tense and filled with suspense. They had only been texting and calling with Stiles, ever since they left. Hadn't been able to come back when they all thought Stiles was dying, having been too far away without means of getting back. Stiles' eyes lit up when he looked at them, actually lit up. There were small sparks of emotions at times, but overall, they remained dull.

"Hey, Catwoman," Stiles even mustered a crooked grin. "Hey, big guy."

"Stiles," Boyd smiled at him. "It's good to see you."

For a few moments, the teens just stood there. Until there was a shaking in Stiles' hands. He was pressing his thumbs against the pads of his other fingers, one by one, forcefully, deliberately. Counting his fingers. It was a habit they'd noticed ever since Stiles left his bed. He'd probably been doing it even before, beneath his sheets. Counting his fingers to make sure he was awake, to make sure this was real and not a dream. Still doubting reality. After counting his fingers three times, Stiles took a slow, calming breath and walked over to them with certain steps. And then he threw himself at them, forceful and desperate, clinging onto them both. The betas were startled at first, but quickly wrapped their arms around him too, pulling him closer against them.

"Hey, Batman," Erica's voice was much softer this time. "You're still here."

Stiles laughed, a wet and hiccuping sound. "You're still here."

"I'm sorry, we wanted to be here when…" Boyd wisely trailed off. "But we couldn't."

"No. No, it's okay. It's okay," Stiles' voice dropped. "It's okay. I never expected anyone to drop their lives for me. I… I know why you left. You shouldn't have to come back for me-"

"We came back because we wanted to see you, and Isaac," Erica interrupted him fiercely. "Besides, we got better, in the past year. We… Leaving helped. It really did. We needed it. This place doesn't… scare us the same way it did when we left. We're okay being here."

Stiles nodded and he slowly removed himself from them, shaking. Too much physical contact still overwhelmed him. Honestly, Chris was surprised he'd hugged them to begin with. But then he guessed he wasn't privy to what kind of relationship they had. He hadn't really known Stiles all that much before the possession. Now, he regretted that.

"Tell me," Stiles requested as he sat down. "Everything."

Erica laughed as they sat down. She leaned into Boyd, he wrapped an arm around her shoulder. Both looking at Stiles before they launched into their tale. True to his request, they did tell him everything, even the parts Chris assumed they'd already told him through texts and phone calls.

Apparently, after leaving Beacon Hills, the teens settled two towns over and got jobs. Erica as a waitress, Boyd helping out at a mechanic who didn't ask questions. They lived in a cheap motel and made money, only staying a few months before continuing, after they could afford a good enough car. Ever since, they'd been on a road trip through the states, essentially. Every town they stayed in for a couple weeks or so, they would first introduce themselves to the local Alpha, ask permission and by staying under their protection, avoided becoming omegas.

Stiles frowned, concerned. "So you still haven't found a permanent pack?"

Erica shrugged, resting her head on Boyd's shoulder. "We're a pack of two. That's all that matters."

"That's not going to last you forever," Peter growled softly, in warning. "Having your mate to anchor you helps, but it only delays the inevitable if you don't find a pack."

"Speaking from experience there," Boyd raised his eyebrows in challenge.

Much to Chris' surprise did Peter not lash out, he rather just huffed out a laugh. "I do have a pack of more than two, but you are… not wrong. There are contingencies for when it becomes pressing."

More than Chris had expected for Peter to reveal. He reached for his mate's hand, giving it a supportive squeeze yet again, his eyes on Peter, soft and concerned. A soft hum from Stiles drew their attention. Big, brown eyes were narrowed, focusing on Peter. It sent a thrill through Chris. That kind of focus, he hadn't seen it on Stiles since the possession, but he remembered it. Remembered the problem solver of the pack zooming in on an issue to solve.

"Tell me," Stiles ordered. "When you do. Tell me."

Peter tilted his head, curious and intrigued. "When it does become pressing?"

"No, when you go and kill an Alpha."

The room froze and tensed, all eyes darting between Peter and Stiles. Isaac made a slightly distressed noise at the prospect of his pack-mate doing something dangerous and potentially deadly. Chris pressed his lips together. He knew of Peter's plan, of course. He didn't know if he approved, but he knew Peter wasn't a part of the McCall Pack and Peter was never going to submit to a foreign Alpha. Killing an Alpha and regaining the status himself was the only thing that Peter would allow to happen. Still, Chris knew he hadn't wanted to tell Stiles, not to worry Stiles. The plan was for Chris and Peter to track down a rogue Alpha, hopefully not too many hours away, go and hunt them down together and then return to Stiles and only tell him once Peter was an Alpha again.

Chris sat tensely, waiting for Peter's reaction, but his wolf simply laughed, loud and genuine.

"I missed that clever mind of yours, sweetheart," Peter's voice was a delighted purr. "Very well. I promise me and Chris will tell you before we leave."

"No," Stiles frowned. "I'm coming."

Again, the people in the room froze. Peter's laughter died and his hand tightened its grip on Chris'.

"Sweetheart, with all due respect, you… haven't left the house in months. You're not going to leave the town, much less to hunt down a feral werewolf," Peter raised an eyebrow.

Stiles narrowed his eyes at Peter. "I killed more feral Alphas than you did."

A strangled laugh escaped Peter at the way Stiles just threw his own murder at Peter. "God, I missed you. But that is still beside the point, sweetheart."

He was challenging Stiles to give him one good reason, a smug smirk on Peter's lips, convinced that he had the upper hand here. And he did. Stiles had barely made it to the living room three days ago for the first time, it had only been his room, the bathroom and the kitchen so far. But he wanted to leave town? To hunt down a feral Alpha? Chris agreed with Peter on that one. Not only was Stiles not ready to do this, Chris and Peter were not going to put him in danger.

"I will not lose you," Stiles' voice was more forceful and certain than they'd all heard it in months. "I can not lose you. If you go and just… never come back, if you die, I'm not… going to come back from that. I will come and I will do everything I can to make sure I don't lose you."

Peter choked and nodded, helpless in the face of Stiles' conviction and the implications here. That his life meant so much to Stiles that Stiles was convinced he wouldn't be able to overcome his death. Stiles took a small breath at the nod, relaxing. He sagged down some, running his hands over his face, suddenly looking extremely exhausted. This was more than he'd ever spoken, it was emotional, and social gatherings in general could be very draining.

"I'm tired," Stiles turned to Boyd and Erica with furrowed brows.

Like he wanted to go to bed, but was afraid they'd be gone if he woke up in the morning. The sheriff, who had gotten home about half an hour earlier and headed to the kitchen to heat up leftover dinner and eat in peace, rounded the corner and entered the room.

"We're gonna stay in a motel downtown," Boyd smiled reassuringly. "We're staying a couple days."

"Like hell you are," Noah frowned at the two. "You kids aren't staying in a motel. The couch you're sitting on is pull-out and apparently comfortable enough, ask Peter and Chris. You're staying."

"We wouldn't want to impose, sir," Boyd was quick to argue.

He also got slapped on the chest by his mate when Erica saw the way Stiles' face lit up at the prospect of them staying here. Boyd ducked his head when he noticed, looking at the sheriff with a short, grateful nod. Noah grunted, pleased with that, and returned to the kitchen.

"Gonna rename this house 'Stilinski's Home For Wayward Wolves and Hunters'," Noah muttered.

Chris huffed out a laugh and shook his head fondly. Stiles got up and waved at everyone goodnight, but before heading upstairs, he walked into the kitchen to join his dad. Silence stretched on. Chris had to strain to hear and he was acutely aware of the wolves listening in too.

"I… I will," Stiles spoke softly, aware that his dad had heard their conversation. "I will go with them. Please don't… don't fight me on this…"

"Kiddo, I haven't been able get between whatever this is so far, I'm not going to start now," Noah heaved a tired and exhausted sigh. "I wish I could shield you from any danger, I wish you wouldn't want to go out and hunt down a feral Alpha werewolf, but… but if there is anyone I trust to bring you home to me safely, it's Peter and Chris. And I do understand why you feel like you have to go."

Chris felt warm at that level of trust and he could see the wondrous and proud look on Peter's face.

/break\

That night, when they went to bed, Stiles clung onto Chris' shirt, curled against his chest, while Peter was once again spooning their boy from behind. Sandwiching Stiles in safety. Peter kept staring down at their boy with awe-filled eyes.

"I didn't expect that," Peter whispered once they thought Stiles was asleep. "He…"

"At one point, we will have to talk to him about what this is," Chris replied.

Peter tore his eyes away from Stiles to instead look at Chris, curious. "What is this, then? You've known how I feel about him from the beginning. You were always willing to share me, but… something has changed, hasn't it, Christopher?"

All Chris could do was hum while staring down at Stiles. "I don't know. But I know that I need him. Not the way I thought when this started, when I thought I needed to know he's safe because of Allison, for Allison, because she died to save him. This… This is about him. I need him safe because I need him. I… don't know anything beyond that though."

"That's okay, darling," Peter smiled at him. "That's… already more than I asked for. And I think it's also more than Stiles would have ever asked for."

Stiles made a small, affirmative noise, drawing their attention down to him. He didn't open his eyes though or react otherwise, so he clearly wasn't ready to be a part of this conversation. He just wanted Chris to know that Peter was right. Following an impulse, Chris pressed a gentle kiss to Stiles' head. The boy tensed for a moment, before relaxing fully.

/break\

Boyd and Erica had been staying with them for four days when Chris walked into their bedroom to find Stiles on his computer, on a zoom call with someone. Chris froze when he recognized the boy.

"Jackson," Chris blinked repeatedly. "Hello."

"Hello, Mister Argent," Jackson greeted, waving. "Stiles mentioned you're… living with him? Not judging, since I'm living with the Hales."

Chris pursed his lips at that. After Derek and Cora had moved to London, they'd connected with Jackson and the three had been forming pack-bonds with each other. Peter kept Chris updated on the Hales. Chris knew how much Peter craved to be with them too.

"I'm sorry for interrupting," Chris looked down at Stiles. "I'll just get my book."

Chris' eyes lingered on Stiles and Jackson though, wondering. With his book in hand, he returned back downstairs, where Peter was watching TV with Boyd, Erica and Isaac. Erica and Peter were actually gossiping about the reality TV show they were watching. Something they'd been doing since the couple arrived here, watching trash TV in the evening. Erica and Peter matched each other in bitchy commentary to a degree that scared Chris as much as it made him happy. Because Stiles wasn't the only one who only existed in this house. Chris and Peter had reduced their life to this house too, to watching out for Stiles, Isaac and Noah. For their pack.

"I thought you wanted to go upstairs and read there because we were getting on your nerves, darling," Peter raised an eyebrow at him while stealing popcorn from Boyd.

"Stiles is… having a video call with Jackson Whittemore," Chris replied. "I didn't want to intrude."

"Video call?" Isaac perked up and smiled a little. "Progress."

"Progress?" Erica echoed, one eyebrow raised. "Whittemore? Talking to Whittemore is progress?"

Isaac shrugged and returned his attention to the TV. "After Derek got back to London and told Jackson about what had happened, Jackson reached out to Stiles. And when Stiles… you know, started interacting with people again, he checked his messages. The two have been… trauma-bonding? Over the Nogitsune and the kanima. Killing people because someone else controlled your body. I think this is really helping Stiles, because… we, we're trying, but… we won't actually understand what he's been through? And he now has someone to talk to who does get it. But it's only been texts so far, since he hasn't been very verbal. That he's ready to talk to Jackson, and even be seen like that, it's… it is progress."

Chris sat down next to Isaac and opened his book, while everyone fell quiet. He'd suspected something like this, but he was relieved to hear it. He read for about an hour before Stiles came downstairs to join them, squeezing in between Peter and Erica, much to both their delight. He didn't speak, all talked out after his conversation with Jackson, but he was with them. That mattered.

/break\

Chris smiled amused to himself as he walked downstairs early in the morning about a week later, finding Erica and Boyd still asleep on the couch, curled together in an uncomfortable looking entanglement. Erica was wearing a hoodie she'd stolen from Stiles.

Walking into the kitchen, Chris found Peter making breakfast, and Stiles helping him. He'd been tentative and he only helped, never took over – even though, according to Noah, cooking used to be his passion, he'd pretty much taken over the household after Claudia died (something Noah was still very ashamed of and feeling guilty about), but cooking was something he had come to love.

"Stop that, you heathen," Stiles glared and smacked Peter on the hand with a spatula.

"I'm the heathen? You're the one who put cinnamon in the pancake batter," Peter hissed.

Chris couldn't help it, he started laughing. It startled them both, causing them to jump and turn around to look at him. The look on Peter's face was filled with so much love and awe and it took Chris a moment to realize why. This was… the first time he'd laughed, loud and genuine and out of happiness, since Allison had died. He blinked surprised at that realization too.

"What do I have to do to make you laugh like that again, darling?"

Peter walked over to him, wrapping his arms around Chris' neck to pull him into a kiss. Chris grunted, laying his own arms around Peter's waist to pull his wolf closer, smiling at him.

"You two," Chris whispered roughly. "Bickering. It's… charming."

He turned to look at Stiles. There was an unreadable expression on Stiles' face as he watched them. Guarded. Not giving away what he was thinking or feeling. It started to make Chris feel uneasy to not know where they were standing, but then he couldn't ask Stiles either, since he didn't have an answer yet himself. Mostly because he wasn't ready to face his own feelings yet.

/break\

Boyd, Chris and Noah had outvoted Erica and Peter on the TV for once, because there was a football game on this Saturday and they were not watching that toxic romance competition when there was football. Isaac simply shrugged, not caring either way. It had been close to three weeks now, since Boyd and Erica arrived and they hadn't brought up leaving yet.

When Stiles stalked into the room with purpose and with his laptop under his arm, the game suddenly became less interesting. Stiles came to sit on the living room table, right in front of them all, and opened his laptop to show them. He had maps open, a place two towns over blinking as a marked location. Chris furrowed his brows, looking at the boy expectantly.

"There have been an uptake of 'animal attacks' in Silver Lake," Stiles spoke after a moment. "I've been tracking them. Jackson reached out to Danny for me to make a program that tracks news about weird animal attacks. And yes, I'm sure it's a rogue Alpha and not an omega, because the news articles also warn about people illegally hunting the animals, based on 'red laser dots' spotted in the woods. Which, I am assuming are not precision lasers but rather Alpha eyes."

That were more words in one go than he had said so far and more passion and excitement in his voice than they were used to. Noah frowned deeply and crossed his arms over his chest. The betas exchanged wary looks. Peter was staring at Stiles as though he hung the sun and moon.

"It's a contingency plan. For when something needs to change," Chris argued. "When we can't go on like this anymore. Nothing about Peter's behavior indicates that so far."

Stiles had the audacity to roll his eyes at Chris, which would infuriate him if he wasn't so happy to see a spark of sass return to the teen. "Right, because rogue Alphas just grow on trees and will be readily available when we need to hurry the fuck up, Christopher."

Peter snorted out a delighted laugh at that. Though he too looked reluctant. Peter loved power, he craved being an Alpha ever since he'd lost it. But there were reasons why he hadn't gone on the hunt himself yet. Part of it was the uncertainty of their survival; feral Alphas were dangerous and him and Chris alone could have easily ended with at least one of them dead. The other reason was the fact that Beacon Hills was no longer Hale territory, it was McCall territory. And it was too small a town for two packs, especially two with as loaded a history as Peter and Scott. Which meant he'd have to leave, he'd have to leave Stiles. Chris, after Allison's death, had nothing else to tie him to this damned place and recently, he'd been thinking more and more that maybe leaving would be for the best, starting new, somewhere else. But leaving meant leaving the Stilinskis and Isaac behind.

"Sweetheart…" Peter trailed off and sighed.

"Our pack needs an Alpha," Stiles glared Peter down. "Man up, Hale."

It was the way he said 'our' that had Peter audibly purr, his eyes flashing blue at Stiles. The reaction put a blush on Stiles' cheeks that everyone in the room had the decency to not comment on.

"I'm not so sure about this," Chris frowned. "It's been working so far."

"It's been working so far because you, me and dad are human and… humans factor into packs differently. Isaac still mostly had his ties to the McCall Pack, keeping him from being an omega. And Peter has, quite frankly, just been doing the same that Boyd and Erica have been doing. Staying here and having the bare minimum contact with the local Alpha to keep him from being an omega and putting the brunt force of keeping his sanity onto our mate-bonds, Chris."

It was the way he said our mate-bonds that had everyone in the room freeze, not that Stiles noticed, he simply barreled on. "Mate-bonds aren't supposed to replace pack-bonds. Even less so because we're both human. Besides, this whole situation got more complicated now that there's more wolves, and that Isaac has been… spending less and less time with the McCall Pack too. There's been a gradual shift. And four beta wolves and three humans can't be Alpha-less."

It took him a moment to realize Stiles was counting Boyd and Erica to their pack. The two betas looked as surprised as Chris felt at that. They had been staying here for weeks now, without wanting to leave, have been strengthening their bonds with Isaac and Stiles, but also growing new bonds with Peter, Chris and Noah. And Isaac really had been spending less and less time with the McCall Pack and more time here, particularly since Boyd and Erica arrived. They… had, somehow, become a pack. And An actual pack, not just Peter at the fringe of a pack.

"We're not staying in Beacon Hills," Erica exchanged a look with Boyd before turning to Stiles. "I… you are right, we have been… reviving our pack-bonds with you and Isaac. And we like staying here, in your home, but we can't just stay in this house forever, and I'm absolutely not ready to face this hell-town and see whatever tries to kill us next."

"Erica is right," Boyd took his mate's hand, squeezing it gently. "This… This is the most like a pack that we've felt since we left but… this town is… bad news."

Stiles frowned at them and Chris held his breath. He didn't want their boy to lose anyone else, even if it was 'just' through them leaving town, especially now that Stiles considered them pack. This could be a major set-back for Stiles and Chris found himself reaching out for Peter for support.

"We're not staying in Beacon Hills," Stiles declared, like it was a done deal.

"I'm sorry," Noah grunted and stared at his son.

Tilting his head, Stiles regarded his dad. "This town keeps taking things from us. The reason I haven't left this house yet is because everything in this town reminds me of things I lost. I can't go to school, because all I can think about is how things used to be, when Jackson was still here, Boyd and Erica were still here, when Derek and Cora were still here, when A… when Allison was alive. The thought of ever entering the sheriff station again terrifies me, because I tried to blow it up, I killed so many people on the force, people I've known all my life, and even before that, when Matt attacked the station? People… People keep dying in this damn town."

Stiles paused, breathing labored, thumbs forcefully tapping against his fingers. "I found your application for early retirement a month ago, dad. You're tired too. I think… I think it's time to leave. Before this town kills us all."

Turning his head, Stiles looked at Peter and Chris with breathtakingly soft eyes. "I know I'm the only reason you're both still here. I know Peter wanted to leave when Derek and Cora did. But he couldn't, because of me and Chris, and Chris couldn't because of… of… Allison. And I know Chris has been ready to leave this town for a while now, but now he can't because of me either. And now Boyd and Erica are here and they keep not leaving because of me, even though they don't want to be here and I don't… I don't want to be the reason why the people I love are stuck in this town that's killing everyone. And I don't want to be here anymore either."

"Where do you want to go, kiddo?" Noah asked, sounding both excited and defeated somehow.

Tilting his head to the side, Stiles offered the smallest grin. "Well, there's three other wayward Hale Pack members across the ocean and Jackson says they got some spare-rooms left."

"London," Isaac raised his eyebrows high. "You want us to move to London. All of us?"

He sounded tentative at that last question, nearly small. Stiles reached out for him, resting a hand on Isaac's knee and giving it a gentle squeeze while smiling at him.

"You and me both have been… shifting alliances for a while now," Stiles whispered. "And that isn't about Scott. Or his pack. It's about us, and what we need to heal. And I think… we need this. We need something that makes us happy and feel like living again. Our pack does that. Right?"

Isaac blinked away tears as he nodded in a jerky motion. "This is the first time I feel like part of a family since… since my mom and brother died… I don't… want to lose this."

Chris couldn't help but wrap an arm around Isaac's shoulders, pulling him close. The kid took a shuttering breath and relaxed against him. Weird-ass family, but he was right. That was what they were. Silence stretched on as everyone digested what Stiles had said. Stiles took the time to calm himself down. Speaking a lot still took a toll on him, left him shaky.

"Christopher," Peter spoke evenly as he got up. "Get your gun. We have work to do."

Stiles straightened up and smiled at Peter so blindingly, it took Chris' breath away. And then the boy jumped up to follow, because he'd made them promise to take him along. What did surprise Chris though was the way Isaac, Boyd and Erica also got up.

"What?" Boyd grunted. "If we're going to be a proper pack, you gotta get used to us not letting you run off into danger alone. Pack's supposed to stick together, right?"

"Besides, four wolves seem more effective at hunting down and weakening one Alpha," Erica offered with a wicked grin, flexing her claws and flashing her eyes. "Sounds safer."

"And someone has to keep Stiles safe," Isaac tagged on with a concerned look. "No offense, but-"

"Some offense taken," Stiles glowered at him. "The best way to take out a rogue Alpha is to trap them in mountain ash so they can't escape before you get them."

"That's true," Peter hummed appreciatively. "So we're going to rob the vet first?"

The grin on Stiles' lip was dangerous and strangely thrilling as he lifted one hand and curled his fingers together into a fist. When he opened his fist, there was a gray powder in his hand.

"No, we're good," Stiles actually giggled. "Oh. Oh, I forgot. It tickles."

"It tickles? What tickles? How… How did you…?" Chris stared stunned.

Shrugging, Stiles pushed his hands in his pants. "Magic. I don't have a lot of it, but some. Enough to summon mountain ash at will. But… I… haven't really used my magic since… I forgot that it tickles in my soul to use my magic."

"Aren't you full of surprises, doll," Chris shook his head baffled.

"Bring more wolfsbane bullets," Noah called out with a heavy sigh. "I am not letting you lot drive to Silver Lake to hunt a feral Alpha on your own. Besides, someone has to drive a second car, unless you want to take a clown-car there."

Once Chris and Noah were sufficiently armed, they packed water bottles and some sandwiches – it was a two hour drive and they'd have to get back after too, plus, werewolves tended to be hungry after a kill – and then filed out into the cars. Chris was surprised to see Boyd, Erica and Isaac all get into the Jeep with Noah, like there was no question about it. Stiles and Chris got into Peter's car, sitting in the back together. After a while, Stiles started to lean into Chris.

"I think it's time we talk about this," Peter announced half an hour into the drive. "And now, without curious werewolf ears perked in another room of the house, is as good a time as any."

"Mh," Stiles hummed but didn't speak, waiting.

"You said our mate-bonds," Chris whispered, tightening his arm around Stiles' waist.

"Mh," Stiles tilted his head enough to look at him. "I do have enough magic to feel bonds. Pack-bonds and mate-bonds. That's kind of the main reason why I… made these plans. Because I can feel the thrumming magic of the pack-bonds we all have been forming and I know what'll happen if we don't find an Alpha to balance them out."

"How did I not know that you had magic," Peter shook his head.

"Never advertised it," Stiles shrugged. "But now it's needed, so."

"How… How long have you… felt this mate-bond with Peter?" Chris asked gently.

"Bonds," Stiles corrected with a frown, looking at him pointed. "With you both."

"Oh," Chris' voice broke, unsure what to do with this.

"I don't… know," Stiles sighed. "Honestly, at first I didn't know what it was, since I never felt something like this. I figured it might be the pack-bonds, just… strengthening? But ever since Boyd and Erica joined, I… the difference in the bonds I have with you and Peter, compared to the bonds with all three, Isaac, Erica and Boyd, is too strong to dismiss. When there was just Isaac, I thought it may be because of all you two have been doing for me and that's it. But… they are mate-bonds."

He looked at Peter at that, like he was looking for confirmation. "They are. Though, I'll admit, I am surprised the two of you have one. Again, did not know you had magic."

A lazy grin spread over Stiles' lips. "Gotta keep you on your toes, Zombiewolf."

Peter gave a startled laugh at that, shaking his head. "Damn, I love you, sweetheart."

Both Stiles and Chris stilled at the confession. Stiles buried himself a little more in Chris.

"I love you too," Stiles whispered, before looking at Chris. "Both of you."

"I…" Chris cleared his throat. "Yeah. Yeah, I love you too, doll."

"I don't… know if I'd still be here without you," Stiles admitted after a moment, frowning. "I didn't know how to come back from… this. All of it. The possession, losing A… Allison, being the one who killed her… that was just… too much… I… I thought you'd hate me for it, Chris. The first time you came to my room, I… was sure you came to kill me, make sure the Nogitsune can never take me over again, and I… was hoping you would…"

Chris sucked in a breath, hugging Stiles even tighter, but not interrupting. There was no point to argue. Stiles was telling him how he had felt in the past, there was no changing past feelings.

"I didn't understand why you cared," Stiles continued after a moment. "When you first said that you had to keep me safe because Allison died for me, I was kind of relieved, because… because I understood that? You caring by proxy of her having cared for me. A… And it… it helped me start caring again too, b… because I started thinking about the things she would never get to do and how I was… wasting this second chance that she helped give me. It helped me push myself and keep going when I didn't know what else could, before I… started caring again…"

"It was a crutch," Chris supplied with a short nod.

"It was a crutch," Stiles echoed with a small smile. "Thanks for giving me a crutch until I could walk on my own again. Though I would… prefer to not walk on my own."

"Sweetheart, if we get any say in the matter, you will never be alone again," Peter promised.

/break\

Killing the Alpha was easier than anticipated, but then they had two expert shots, four werewolves and a magic-user who could provide an endless supply of mountain ash. The Alpha stood no chance. Chris was not ashamed of the arousal that the betas could smell from him the first time Peter flashed his Alpha red eyes at them with a wicked grin. The way Stiles gripped his hand told him he wasn't alone in that, at least.

The sheriff filed for early retirement. They sold the Stilinski house. Packed up all their belongings. Had the Jeep shipped to London. There were some tearful goodbyes between Stiles, Isaac and the McCall Pack, Stiles and Scott hugged for nearly half an hour, apologizing to each other. It hurt, but Scott understood that it was the right thing for the both of them. And then they were on the next flight to London, leaving this cursed town behind them for good.

"Welcome home," Derek greeted them with a small smile as he opened the door to the Hale Estate in London. "Took you long enough to get here."

He looked at his uncle, both Hales flashing their eyes at each other before Derek bared his throat in submission. Peter made a pleased noise as he officially accepted his nephew into his pack. There was even hugging. More hugging once Cora and Jackson came running downstairs.

"I'm glad you're here, Stilinski," Jackson muttered into Stiles' shoulder, hugging him tight.

"Yeah," Stiles' voice cracked as he clung onto the other boy. "Me too, Jacks."

"So, this is it, then," Cora looked around – looked at Derek, Jackson, Stiles, Peter, Chris, Noah, Erica, Boyd and Isaac. "This is the new Hale Pack?"

There was something like awe in her voice at getting something back that she thought she had lost forever. Peter stepped up to his niece and laid an arm around her, pulling her into a half-hug, with Derek on his other side. The three of them had lost everything and clawed their way back. No. Chris' own eyes wandered. To Isaac, who'd lost his entire family and been abused by his father before the man's death. To Boyd, who'd lost his little sister too young and had run away from home because it hadn't felt like home since her death because it hung over the family like a Damocles sword. To Erica whose medical condition had isolated her for so long and left her parents so overbearingly protective that she had felt suffocated enough to run away. To Noah, who had lost his wife and then lost himself in alcohol for years and nearly had lost his son now. And in the end, his eyes settled on Stiles. He pulled his mate close enough to kiss the top of his head.

"Yeah," Chris whispered. "This is the new Hale Pack. And it's a damn good pack."

/break\

They'd been living in London for about a month when Peter, Chris and Stiles went out to a little bakery around the corner that Peter had discovered in their first week here and was absolutely smitten with. It was Stiles' eighteenth birthday and though the pack was already decorating for the big party, Peter and Chris wanted some time alone with their mate. It was easier for Stiles, leaving the house, here in London. Because there were no memories haunting him here. No, every corner of this city only held the possibility for new memories, happy memories.

Stiles blew out the candle on the birthday cake they'd ordered, grinning at them. Looking genuinely carefree for the first time in too many months. He leaned over to Chris after, and before Chris could wonder what their boy was doing, soft lips pressed against his own. Chris didn't get a chance to react before they retreated though, Stiles moving to lean in and also kiss Peter.

"Happy birthday to me," Stiles grinned cheekily.

Oh. Right. Stiles had just turned eighteen, hadn't he? Chris exchanged a look with Peter, who looked absolutely smitten and delighted. Chris smiled amused. They were on the right track.

~*~ The End ~*~

#Stetopher #Post Nogitsune #Hurt/Comfort #Peter Hale #Chris Argent #Stiles Stilinski #Teen Wolf #Stiles Summer Stories 2024 #Phoe's Fics

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