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takaraphoenix · 1 month

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The Tate Sisters

Tags: m/m/m, alternate universe, No Hale Fire, True Mates, Spark Stiles, fluff, hurt/comfort, f/f, m/f

Main Pairing: Chris/Peter/Stiles

Side Pairings: Scott/Allison, Malia/Kira, Jackson/Lydia

Teen Wolf Characters: Mieczysław 'Stiles' Stilinski, Chris Argent, Peter Hale, Scott McCall, Allison Argent, Malia Tate, Kira Yukimura, Jackson Whittemore, Lydia Martin, Alan Deaton

@writersmonth Prompts: snow + flower shop

Summary: The Tate sisters, Allison and Malia, moved to town for college. When a monster attacks one afternoon, they come to aid the local pack – and that's when Scott realizes Allison is his mate. And that's when Stiles realizes the 'Tate' sisters are really the Argent-Hale sisters. As Scott's Emissary, Stiles goes to the Hale Pack to discuss the matter and meet with the girls' fathers.

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The Tate Sisters

Stiles Summer Stories 2024

The Tate sisters were new in town, having moved here for college. They were both stunning and cunning. And they were deeply suspicious. From the first time Stiles met Allison Tate in his mythology class, he felt like something was off about her. Lydia, who was in the same class, simply latched onto the other girl though. Best friends right away. Which only made Stiles even more suspicious, because Lydia - like all of them - didn't have any friends outside their pack.

The McCall Pack was technically the local werewolf pack. Technically, because werewolves were by far not the only creatures in the pack. They'd started out small enough, just Stiles and Scott, after Scott got bitten by a rogue Alpha wolf when they were teenagers. Jackson, Lydia and Danny quickly joined their pack, after Jackson got attacked by the same Alpha. Two wolves and two supposed humans. Not long after did they realize that Lydia was a Banshee, and that Stiles had magic. Though not supernatural, Danny's hacking skills sure were out of this world and he was a great asset to their little pack of five.

Through the power of friendship did Scott rise into becoming their Alpha, a so-called True Alpha. Not an Alpha because he stole the powers by killing, but an Alpha because his pack needed an Alpha and he stepped up to the task.

Their little pack of four grew when the Yukimuras moved to town and their daughter Kira learned that she was a kitsune, like her mother. She sought community with the other supernatural creatures and found her place among their pack.

Not long after her did the omega twins Ethan and Aiden stumble into town, having been bullied and abused by their old pack, they had run away, seeking a better pack. Hearing about a True Alpha.

The young, mated pair of Liam and Hayden, together with Liam's human best friend Mason were the next to join and slowly, their pack grew in size and reputation.

When it had just been the five of them, it had felt like just a group of friends, surviving together. After graduation, when the two young wolves came to join their pack, it started feeling different, more meaningful - like it held meaning outside of their friendship.

Stiles? Stiles had always done the research. When Scott had first gotten turned, he'd absorbed all knowledge about wolves, he'd figured out a way to teach Scott control during the full moon, he'd figured out what mates were - because werewolves actually had soulmates, actual real soulmates. He'd helped Lydia figure out her Banshee powers. Research was his thing. That included pack dynamics, both within the pack and dynamics with other packs. It wouldn't do to accidentally insult another pack, so they needed to know how to handle meeting other packs.

When he learned about Emissaries, he knew what his role in the pack was. The magic user adviser to the Alpha. That was him. So he read every book there was on how Emissaries behaved, what their job really was, what he needed to know to be the best damn Emissary Scott could possibly want. At which he'd gotten a punch on the shoulder and a "Dude, you're you so of course you're perfect" from Scott, because that was just who they were.

That was also how they made their pack run. The True Alpha and his Emissary.

Slowly, gradually, they gained more respect and recognition in the supernatural community. Sure, the news of a True Alpha had traveled fast and far, but between there being a True Alpha and there being a respectable pack run by a True Alpha was a difference.

Their pack was steadily growing, both in numbers and in recognition. That didn't keep threats out of town though.

So when these two stunning girls moved to town and gave Stiles a suspicious feeling, he kept watching them. Signed up in a few of Malia Tate's classes too, to get to know the other sister. Something about them was off, he just couldn't tell what.

"You need to relax, Stilinski," Jackson sighed and bumped their shoulders together. "Lydia's friends with Allison, she dragged me along to get coffee with her. Not a shifter. I would have smelt if she were a shifter."

"There's ways to mask scent," Stiles stated dismissively.

"Oh god, can you hear yourself?" Jackson groaned and leaned his head back. "I swear, it's like you want us to be in trouble. Can you not just enjoy that our first semester at college hasn't started with a potentially town-destroying disaster?"

"I don't trust peace, Jacks," Stiles turned to glare at him. "Trusting peace is what most of the times nearly gets us killed."

"You're going to have gray hair before you're thirty, Stilinski," Jackson sighed, but it was fond and he wrapped an arm around Stiles' shoulders. "C'mon. Ice-cream. My treat."

Stiles grinned just a little at that and leaned into Jackson. The two of them used to hate each other's guts, before all of this mess. But becoming a werewolf had weirdly grounded Jackson, and becoming pack had forged an unbreakable bond between them. As weird as it may sound to younger Stiles, Jackson was by now his best friend beside Scott.

"I'm still telling you, something is off about them. I want Scott to meet with them, maybe his superior Alpha instincts can scent something about them."

"You're insufferable."

/break\

It happened about a month later, when something – Stiles wasn't fully sure what – attacked the campus. The pack was quick to gather to take care of the threat, but they weren't the only ones. Attracted by the commotion were also the Tate sisters. Allison with a crossbow at the ready and Malia with glowing blue eyes and claws.

And that should have been it, that should have been the big surprise of the day. A shifter and a human in the know, ready to kick ass. But no. No, the big surprise of the day was when Scott looked at them and gasped, his eyes flashing back to human.

"She's..." Scott trailed off, an expression of awe on his face.

Oh no. Oh no. Stiles groaned softly to himself and then shoved Scott hard.

"Time to marvel at the miracle of True Mates later, take out the – what the fuck, are those wings? – the threat right now, Alpha."

Scott shook himself and managed to focus on the fight, running up to Jackson to attack together with his beta while Kira was baiting the thing that now also had a tail with a head. Stiles however, he kept an eye on the Tate sisters, watching the way Malia jumped in to help them, the way Allison held her distance because long-distance weapon. Considering the fact that Malia's scent had been masked meant that they didn't just happen to be here, she wasn't just a shifter who didn't know how their world worked. This was going to be one big headache for him, wasn't it?

/break\

The headache culminated two days later, when half the pack was gathered in Stiles room – why was it always Stiles' room – and Scott was a moping, miserable, whining mess. Stiles glowered, reaching a foot out over the edge of his bed and nudging Scott with it.

"She's perfect, did you see the way she shot the thing?"

"He literally hasn't even spoken to Allison yet," Kira giggled. "That's..."

"Pathetic. The word you are looking for is pathetic," Stiles supplied.

"Why can't I just go and talk to her?" Scott whined, turning the puppy-dog eyes on Stiles.

It was Lydia who rolled her eyes and sighed from her place perched on Jackson's lap, both sitting on Stiles' bed because of course did everybody feel at fucking home in Stiles' room.

"You're the Alpha, Scott," Lydia lowered her phone so she could send him a pointed look. "And considering that Allison's sister is a were herself, the likelihood of them being in a pack is very high. There are protocols for finding your mate within another pack and those protocols are already to be taken seriously for betas, but you're an Alpha. You need to go about this right, or you might seriously offend their pack."

"Please don't become Romeo and Juliet," Kira requested with a worried look. "We really absolutely do not need any kind of... pack-war. It'd be different if she were human and nothing else, but we can't say for sure if she's also a shifter and simply prefers weapons over claws, or if she's adopted into the pack, or – You get the gist of it. We know too little about her."

"Actually, and if all of you would stop constantly hanging out in my bedroom and distracting me, I could have supplied this sooner, I do now know who they are," Stiles furrowed his brows and turned around his laptop. "May I introduce to you, Allison and Malia Argent-Hale. Daughters of Alpha Hale's brother and left hand, Peter Hale. Of the Hale Pack. Obviously."

"The Hale Pack," Kira gasped surprised. "Mom mentioned them before. They're a really old and really powerful pack, kind of neighboring to our territory. Very old."

"And old means traditional," Lydia supplied casually. "So, heed the protocols."

"What are the protocols?" Scott sat up at that. "I mean, we never had something like that. Liam and Hayden were already mates when they joined us and Lydia and Jackson are Lydia and Jackson."

"Unsure if that was an insult or a compliment," Jackson looked up and toward Lydia.

"Always a compliment, babe," Lydia smirked and leaned in to kiss her mate.

"Insult," Stiles replied without missing a beat.

"The protocols," Scott repeated, turning the puppy-eyes back on Stiles.

"Right," Stiles grinned a little, having mercy on his best friend. "If a were finds their mate in another pack, it's protocol for the Emissary to reach out to the other pack's Emissary and Alpha and inform them of the situation, so the Alpha can talk to the matched mate and arrange for a meeting. Though, considering that her dad is the Alpha's left hand, it would be more proper for me, as your Emissary, to directly reach out to Allison's fathers."

"So—o?" Scott looked very hopeful. "When?"

Heaving a sigh, Stiles turned his laptop back to face him so he could look up the address. "Tomorrow is Friday, so I'll leave right after class. I'll talk to her fathers, as representatives of their pack, and arrange for a meeting between you and Allison. Traditionally, there will be a chaperon, in most neutral settings, it's both packs' Emissaries, but it could also be family members. Yes, it may sound silly to you, who you just want to kiss your mate, but… these protocols exist for a reason, Scotty. Your mate and you might be fated, but that doesn't mean both packs are. You never know if your mate's pack poses a danger, if there are unsavory individuals. That's why we go through this process, to vet both sides, to ensure the safety of all parties involved."

Scott deflated, but Stiles could see that his best friend got it. And honestly, Stiles could understand why Scott was being so whiny. True Mates. Soulmates. The only times that Stiles found himself envious of werewolves, really. Yes, non-weres could be part of a soul-bond, and it did affect them in a way – there was a very strong draw to their mate – but it was different for weres, who could feel the actual bond and could feel it very strongly. Weres knew it the moment they laid eyes on their mates. Non-weres had to rely on their were-mates to find them. In his silliest, loneliest nights, Stiles liked to imagine a werewolf looking at him that way and telling him you're my mate, you're mine, but those were Stiles' personal fantasies and did not need to be disclosed.

/break\

Chris heaved an exhausted sigh and ran a hand over his face, rubbing at his beard. He'd known it would cause problems when their daughters decided to go to college. He knew it. And he'd told his husband so too, but all Peter, the smug insufferable bastard, had done was grin indulgently and kiss him. Like this wasn't going to age Chris a decade in a semester.

He'd known about the McCall Pack. Everybody in their community knew about the McCall Pack. True Alphas were rare, after all. Which meant they attracted attention. Which meant they attracted trouble. The last thing their daughters needed was trouble.

Which was why he had insisted that they not sign up under their real names. The Hale name carried a lot of weight in the shifter community, one look at the name alone would tell any shifter that their daughters were involved in the supernatural world, and, though he had cut ties with his family years ago at this point, the Argent name was well-known too, for... very different reasons.

So Malia and Allison signed up under a fake name, as the Tate sisters, and Malia, upon her fathers' insistence (Chris' insistence, who then forced Peter to agree with him), had taken scent-blockers with her. Because the best way to avoid the McCall Pack's trouble was if their girls didn't even get on the pack's radar. Pretend to just be two normal college students.

Peter had looked utterly bemused by this clear breach of protocol. A shifter who moved to another pack's territory was supposed to seek a meeting with the local Alpha and their Emissary, state their intentions and the length of their stay. Despite being their own Alpha's left hand, Peter had no issue breaking protocol, perhaps partially because the man lived to torment his sister, aka their Alpha.

It was just that if their girls introduced themselves to the pack, there was no way they weren't getting dragged into whatever came looking for the True Alpha. This was safer.

Or, at least Chris had hoped it would be. Naturally, he had underestimated both his daughters' hotheadedness. Because when trouble came knocking, they came running to help. Which was how they realized that they had already been befriending the local pack, since the two friends they'd both already made – Lydia and Stiles, were the names they'd given to their fathers, though Chris wasn't sure what kind of name Stiles was – had been among the people dealing with the threat. The fact that Malia hadn't smelt them meant that they either also used scent-blockers or weren't weres.

Not that that was the important part. The important part was where his daughter had found her mate in the McCall Pack that day. Which was now complicating things a lot.

The girls had called right after, with far too much excitement, talking over each other. Chris had, sternly, reminded them of the proper protocols and that, especially with their previous breach of protocol, they really needed to do things right this time. Them coming to the McCall Pack's territory without announcing themselves could very easily be seen as a threat, now that they'd revealed their own links to the supernatural. And yes, Chris was aware that it was largely his fault, for naively hoping his girls could stay out of things. They hadn't even lasted a month.

"You look stressed, love," Peter whispered, grasping Chris' shoulders to massage.

"I meant to make things easier for them, not harder."

"I know, Christopher," Peter chuckled and leaned in to kiss Chris' temple.

The girls had called two days ago and asked them what to do. Chris hadn't known the answer, beyond the fact that they needed to follow protocol. But following protocol proved to be tricky. Protocol dictated that they sent their pack's Emissary to the McCall Pack to arrange a meeting between the mated pair, but Dr. Deaton was currently on a convention for his actual job and he wouldn't be back before next week. They'd asked the girls to hold tight and wait until Dr. Deaton would be available, the situation would be explained to him and he could go to arrange a meeting.

Naturally had Malia growled at that. She was very impatient by nature and she'd never liked protocols. She preferred instincts over tradition. Chris could understand that, but they weren't just anyone. They were part of the Hale family directly, not simply part of the Hale pack. And, more complicatedly, they were Argents. What if the McCall Pack recognized the Argent name and would look at Allison as just a hunter, as a threat, and the situation escalated into violence?

No, no they needed Dr. Deaton, who was schooled in diplomacy and would know how to smooth things over and properly explain their situation. Explain the way Chris Argent, a hunter, had found his mate in Peter Hale, the left hand of the Hale Pack, when the Argents had come here. More precisely, when Chris had followed his sister to stop her from committing mass murder.

Chris had been raised as a hunter, but he had always taken his duty to mean to defend the innocent and not to attack any supernatural creature, regardless of their intent or age; he would never go after children. That summer, Allison learned the truth about her family. That summer, Chris was wooed by a werewolf who claimed to be his mate and though humans couldn't feel the matebond the same way, he had felt that pull. Stronger than anything he had ever felt for his late wife, who had taken her life years prior after a werewolf attack left her slowly turning.

Chris and Allison cut their ties to the Argents and stayed. Chris started teaching Allison how to defend herself and fight, how to be a hunter, but also how to use those talents differently than their family had. At the same time, Chris also reluctantly started dating Peter. The longer the two of them were together, the surer Chris grew that Peter was telling the truth. That they were mates.

Peter had also been a single dad. Though his daughter was the product of a one-night-stand with a woman who resented the idea of motherhood and had dumped the baby in Peter's lap. With the help of his family and pack, Peter had raised Malia into a strong, independent girl. When their fathers started dating, Allison and Malia became friends. Until, about a year ago, they became sisters.

Malia may not be biologically Chris' and he may have only known the girl for two years, but he loved her no less than he loved Allison. These were his children, this was his family, and he was going to do anything in his power to protect them.

The doorbell ringing tore Chris out of his thoughts. He groaned, with a look at the clock. It was late, the only people who bothered them this late was their pack. Not that Chris hadn't come to love the pack, but there was a limit to how much bickering between his nieces and nephew he could endure, or how much arguing between his mate and his sister-in-law he could stand.

"I'm sending them away," Chris warned, even as he headed for the door. "Even if it's Cora and her puppy-eyes asking for yet another college trip from you."

Cora was only a year younger than Malia and Allison, she was Talia's youngest daughter and she was currently considering colleges. Now, her dad was 'super lame' and the idea of doing this with her mom made her pull a very, very painful looking face. Peter though, Peter was her favorite uncle. They'd toured five colleges all over the states already. When Chris opened his door, fully prepared to send whatever family member decided to bother them this late at night back home with a stern glare, he froze. Not the eyes he had expected, not eyes he had ever seen. Big, beautiful brown eyes blinked up at him, an unfamiliar face looking at him with a grin that was mischief and trouble incarnate. Soft brown hair, a lanky built, pretty.

Which was what had Chris freeze in place. Pretty? Sure, Chris was into younger guys, as proven by his decade younger husband, but this one was too young. He looked around Allison and Malia's age. But he was pretty and Chris couldn't look away from those eyes.

"Hello, Mister Argent-Hale, it's a pleasure to meet you," the pretty boy spoke with that foreboding grin, holding out a hand. I'm Mieczysław Stilinski, Emissary of the McCall Pack."

"You're an Emissary?" Chris asked, before he could think his words through.

He winced at how they must come off, but Emissary Stilinski simply chuckled. "Yes, I am. Don't worry, I'm used to it. Most Emissaries are much… older, so people are surprised by my age."

Which wasn't untrue. Emissaries usually trained for over a decade for this position. In his time with the Hale Pack, he had met many other packs and their Alphas and Emissaries – mostly because he was the mate of the left hand so he was more involved in these kind of meetings than a regular pack member would be – and he'd never met an Emissary who was under forty.

"I'm sure my husband meant no offense," Peter spoke smoothly next to him. "It's less the age that's a surprise though. I don't think we've ever met an Emissary who is this pretty."

Chris turned to throw a sharp look at his mate. That being a thought inside Chris' head was startling and unsettling, but for Peter to actually voice it, to the Emissary? Not only was that unprofessional and inappropriate, Chris also had no idea what to do with that. Ever since they had sealed their mate-bond, they'd only had eyes for each other. Before their wedding, Peter had been prone to flirt around, casual and never with meaning. More meant to rile Chris up, to make Chris realize what he had and didn't want to lose. Peter looked entirely unapologetic, his gaze on Emissary Stilinski. And what a gaze. Pure heat and hunger as though he wanted to devour the doe-eyed beauty.

Chris loved being the object of that gaze, it did things to him. And it was concerning that right now, that gaze was also doing things to him, even as it was aimed at another. He turned to look away from Peter, instead returning his eyes to their guest. To the long span of his pale neck and the way those ridiculous skinny jeans hugged his legs and accentuated his thighs. It easily conjured up images of Peter marking up that neck, of those thighs wrapped around Peter's waist, of-

"I'm here about your daughter," Emissary Stilinski spoke again, after clearing his throat.

His cheeks were flushed though, as though Peter's compliment had gotten to him. Which only made Peter look unbearably smug. Blinking a few times and taking deep breaths to calm himself, Chris attempted to focus. This was very unlike him. He'd never been easily distracted by someone's attractiveness, especially not when more important matters were at hand.

"That is… a pleasant surprise," Chris replied gruffly, finally taking the offered hand. "Chris Argent-Hale. I was just discussing with my husband how unfortunate the timing is, seeing as our own Emissary is currently out of town and won't be back until next week."

Emissary Stilinski perked up at that, a pleased grin on his lips. Like being praised for good timing delighted him. Well, Chris could imagine praising him in other ways too. Peter next to him chuckled, probably because he could smell the steady build of arousal. Damn werewolf nose.

"Peter Hale-Argent," Peter offered, taking the boy's hand next and aiming a disarming smile at him. "It truly is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Please, come inside."

Good plan. They were still standing in the doorway. Chris moved out of the way, following Peter into the living room. The young Emissary trailed after them, looking around curiously. Cute.

"Let me get you something to drink, Emissary Stilinski," Peter turned that charming, flirtatious smile back on the boy. "Tea? Water? Wine? Are you old enough to drink yet?"

"Alcohol seems inappropriate for a business meeting," an amused eyebrow was raised at Peter. "And no, I'm not. I'm nineteen. Tea would be nice though. It's… much colder here than in Beacon Hills, the mountains do make quite the difference. Didn't expect snow, it's only autumn."

He rubbed his hands together, while Chris filed the information nineteen away. He shouldn't. Peter left the living room to get them tea and while they waited for his return, Stiles' eyes wandered over everything. The furniture, the trinkets, the family pictures. Taking everything in like it was vital information. It was somewhat amusing to watch, for Stiles. A few minutes later, Peter entered the room with a tray of tea and three cups, serving them all and sitting down next to Chris.

"So, Mister Hale-Argent… Misters… Uhm…"

Big doe-eyes blinked at them as he was trying to figure out how to best address them.

"Peter," Peter's smile turned more bemused. "Peter will do just fine. And though my husband does like being called 'sir', I'm sure he won't mind 'Chris' either."

It was a blurry line, between a respectable honorific for an older man, or a kinky sex thing, and the innuendo was not lost on the Emissary either because his cheeks turned even redder. Chris heaved a sigh, praying for strength. His husband was trying to kill him.

"First names it is, then," a smile was aimed their way. "Uh, well, you don't have to try and pronounce mine. Nobody can, really. I usually go by Stiles, but it just, in the capacity of official Emissary business, sounds unprofessional, you know? But, if we're doing first names. Stiles."

Oh. A constipated expression played out over Chris' face as he realized that this was one of the two new friends their daughters had made. Of course. Smoothing his expression over, Chris smiled too.

"Thank you for taking the time to drive out to us. Beacon Hills is two hours away and I'm sure you had different plans for your Friday night than to arrange a mate meeting."

"Well, my Fridays are usually research binges so, you know," Stiles shrugged. "Besides, this is the first time I get to do one of these. Kinda exciting. We're a young pack, as I'm sure you're aware. Not just us, as individuals, being younger than most packs, but… our pack hasn't been around for very long. There's still a lot I only studied about, so… please excuse if I misstep or misremember. Honestly, I wasn't even fully sure if I should go to you, but, uh… it… felt right? Peter being the left hand puts him in a leading position within the pack, so I thought…"

"You thought right," Peter assured him with a gentle look. "It is custom to go to the Emissary when it's in regards to one of the betas, but there are exceptions made for the direct family of the Alpha, the right hand or left hand. Now, I'm sure you have questions for us."

Thank god Peter had recovered some of his professionalism. Chris relaxed a little. And then Stiles smirked, amused and knowing, in a very similar way that Chris knew from his husband. The tension returned right to Chris' shoulders. That look, he loved that look on Peter's scheming face. He'd never seen a similar look on someone else before.

"You could say that," Stiles raised his eyebrows. "It's… highly unusual, to invade another pack's territory without announcing your presence. But the explicit act of hiding your name and your scent are… Damn, you people are lucky Scotty is like the most trusting, optimistic, seeing-the-good-in-people person on this entire planet because any other Alpha would have declared war for that alone. Uh. Alpha McCall, I mean. So, mostly, I do require an explanation for that."

"We wanted our daughters safe," Peter beat Chris to the explanation and Chris found himself grateful for it, because he was still feeling guilty about getting them into this situation.

Stiles looked nonplussed. "I do require more of an explanation."

"True Alphas are rare," Peter continued, pursing his lips. "They attract… more trouble… than most other packs. As I am sure you must know first-hand. And we didn't want our daughters involved or endangered by that. We wanted them to… get a normal college experience. No supernatural drama or danger, especially in another town where we can't protect them."

And mh. Perhaps Peter had been more on board with Chris' plan than the werewolf had let on, because that sounded very genuine and by far not as rehearsed as Chris would have expected. There was a tenseness to Stiles and he was tapping his thumbs against his fingers, one by one, a far-off look on his face as he physically fought to regain his breathing.

"Yeah," Stiles' voice broke and he cleared his throat before straightening his posture. "Yeah, I do know of the dangers that a True Alpha and his pack faces. So I do understand not wanting your daughters involved. But… maybe you should have discussed that a bit more in-depth with them, because damn, the very first time something attacks our college campus and they're out there playing Katniss Everdeen and the Big, Bad Wolf."

"Coyote," Peter corrected nearly on auto-pilot. "Malia isn't a wolf, she takes after her… mother."

There was something to Peter's gaze though that told Chris he too had noticed the strange, tense behavior before, the way Stiles must have remembered something deeply traumatizing that he had survived as a member of his pack. It was the need to comfort and protect that surprised Chris even more than anything else this evening. Sexual attraction was one thing, though he hadn't looked at another since him and Peter became mates, he was familiar with it. But for him to feel protective over someone he knew all of twenty minutes now? That wasn't normal. Something was wrong here.

"Cool," Stiles whispered, eyebrows raised. "Uh, sorry. I'm just, you know, fascinated by the broad variety of shifters and supernatural beings in general. Never met a coyote before."

There was a beat of silence, mostly because Chris and Peter could both see the cogs working in Stiles' mind. He was planning his next step, taking their words into consideraton. Weighting their explanation against their actions. Chris couldn't help but tense. If their choices would lead to their daughter's relationship with her mate being strained, he would never forgive himself.

"Okay," Stiles nodded. "Just. Uh. One last question that I really can't formulate in any way that doesn't sound rude or offensive, but… a werewolf and a werewolf hunter, huh? How does that work? Not that I'm asking for details about your love life, that is so none of my business, but I would love to know, on a scale of one to ten, how likely is Allison to shoot one of my betas?"

So he did know about the Argents. Chris found himself a little disappointed by that, since his family's reputation has been making his life hard for a while now and he always wished for Allison to not be judged by their deeds. Peter reached out to take his hand, squeezing it gently.

"We're True Mates ourselves," Peter replied, softly. "And even before that, Chris had turned his back on his family's legacy. He still hunts the supernatural, but only those who mean us harm. He protects our lands the same as any were does. And so does Allison."

"Okay," Stiles nodded, seemingly satisfied with that. "Again, sorry. I just… I had to ask, everybody knows about the Argents, I mean I met your father and…"

There was that tenseness again, but different. A stillness to it this time, no finger-counting. Which meant that the finger-counting wasn't just a nervous habit or a soothing tick, it was specifically linked to whatever traumatic event he had remembered earlier.

"I'm sorry if my father has caused you any trouble."

"You don't have to apologize for his actions," Stiles shook his head, though he was also staring at the ground. "But yeah. Having… met… the man had me… weary about you, I'll admit."

"So, what's the verdict, Emissary Stilinski?" Peter asked lightly, trying to change the mood.

A small, near grateful smile spread over Stiles' lips as he looked up at them again. "I mean, literally the only thing that would have stopped a meeting is if I had ended up in another Argent's basement getting tortured, so… This is going much better than anticipated so far."

Chris froze and he could hear his mate next to him growl, deep and dark and protective, the kind of growl that usually led to Peter tearing something or someone to bits for hurting their pack. Chris himself felt first and foremost queasy about the idea that his father had tortured a teenager, and secondly felt that overwhelming sense of protectiveness again.

"I'm sorry," Chris' voice was soft. "And I'm not apologizing for his actions, but for the fact that you had to go through something like that. Nobody should. Especially not someone so young."

Stiles waved a dismissive hand, but his eyes betrayed his casualness. "All in the past. As long as Grandpa Argent doesn't show up for the wedding, we're all good."

"I haven't spoken to, or seen, my father in two years."

For a moment, Stiles paused, before snorting amused, earning curious looks from both Chris and Peter. "Sorry, just… Damn. It must piss him off so much that his son is married to a werewolf. Actually I think I would like to meet him one more time just to rub it in that his granddaughter is also a werewolf's True Mate. Maybe the heart-attack will kill him."

His words gave Peter and Chris pause though. A werewolf's mate? They exchanged a look.

"I'm sorry, what do you mean by that?" Peter asked slowly. "A werewolf's mate?"

Now it was Stiles' turn to look at them in confused. "That's, uh, why I'm here? Your daughter's True Mate? I'm sorry, was I not clear on that?"

"No, no, you were," Chris furrowed his brows. "But from what Malia told us, her mate is a kitsune. Not a werewolf. She didn't get to talk to the girl, but she could smell the fox and lightning on her."

Damn, those big, brown eyes could go even bigger. The delighted, soft growl from Peter told him that his mate was as captivated by those eyes as Chris was.

"Okay let's stop talking about 'your daughter' and start using names," Stiles cleared his throat. "I'm here because my Alpha, Scott McCall, recognized your daughter, Allison, as his True Mate."

Silence stretched on between the three of them as they sat with that information. Stiles had come here about one of their daughters, but not the one they had seen coming. Of course. Kitsune were not shape-shifters, meaning they couldn't tell a soul-bond, just like any non-shifter. So Malia's mate wasn't aware of the bond yet. The same way Allison hadn't been aware that she apparently had a soul-bond with the True Alpha. Chris was fairly sure he just got at least ten new gray hair (which was going to delight Peter, who was really into the 'silver fox' look).

"Both of our daughters found their mates with the McCall Pack," Chris summed up.

"That appears to be the case," Stiles blinked. "Uhm. So… Are we thinking like a double-date? I mean, for arranging the meeting? Do we make these two separate meetings, or one…?"

"That is certainly a thing to be discussed," Peter agreed. "We will talk to our girls, and you will talk to your Alpha and to the kitsune girl, what they are comfortable with. Your phone?"

He held out his hand and with no hesitation did Stiles hand over his phone. Peter quickly programmed both their numbers in and started a group-chat between the three of them, aptly named Mates Chat. That would make things more convenient. He then handed it back to Stiles.

"Good idea," Stiles nodded and pocketed his phone. "Let's discuss with our respective parties, also keep in mind location and… chaperons, if they're wanted and if so, who, and then we'll get back to each other to come to an agreement that all parties involved will be satisfied with."

He finished his tea and then got up, a pleasant smile on his lips as he held out his hand like he wanted to say goodbye and leave. Chris' eyes wandered past Stiles, out the window into the pitch-black of the night and the snow-fall that had picked up again. He hadn't even noticed that Stiles had been with them for over an hour. Night had fallen while they'd talked. A displeased frown contorted his face at the thought of Stiles driving all the way back to Beacon Hills alone and at night. The mountain roads were dangerous for those unfamiliar with them even at the light of day.

"Oh, you are absolutely not leaving," Peter's smile was all teeth.

"What," Stiles' voice squeaked and he looked embarrassed by it.

"It's late, it's dark, it's snowing, you're alone, you must be exhausted considering how late it is, you're unfamiliar with the mountain roads," Peter shook his head. "It would be irresponsible to let you leave like that. We have a guest-room. Stay the night, leave tomorrow during the day when you can actually see where you're driving and when you had a chance to rest too."

It was strange, how Chris wasn't entirely sure how he felt about this. Relieved that Peter offered, relieved at the idea of Stiles being safe and at the idea of Stiles staying. But he also felt mortified by the idea of Stiles staying in their home, because what this boy was doing to him was unsettling.

A blush lit up Stiles' face as he shook his head. "I wouldn't want to impose-"

"You're not imposing. We're offering," Chris interrupted him.

His own discomfort with his own strange desires and feelings was a small price to pay for Stiles' ensured safety though. Which would be one of those strange feelings and desires that unsettled him.

"Well," Stiles looked unsure, his eyes drifting over to the clock on the wall. "I guess it is already ten and I have been up since 6AM so not driving until I get home at like 1AM would be nice… and also probably safer… If you're sure this isn't a problem, then yeah. Thank you."

"Let me show you our guest-room," Peter smiled pleased.

When Stiles got up and walked toward him with the intention of following, Peter rested his hand on Stiles' lower back, walking beside him. Chris frowned at the possessive gesture and the touch. Peter was scent-marking the Emissary of another pack. A part of Chris suspected what was going on here, but didn't dare put it to words yet. He'd need his mate to confirm it first. So Chris sat there and waited until Peter came back downstairs, looking utterly pleased with himself.

"So, our daughters both found their mates in the McCall Pack," Chris chose as an opener.

The pleased look turned into one of amusement and mischief – that look he loved so much, that look he had seen on Stiles' face earlier too – as Peter approached Chris and wrapped his arms around his mate's waist. He buried his nose in Chris' neck, inhaling deeply.

"Not just our daughters," Peter whispered. "He's ours."

Chris tensed in his mate's arms, even though he had suspected this for the last half hour or so. He'd only ever once felt this instantly attracted to someone, drawn to someone, and not just in a physical sense. Peter was openly, loudly purring in his arms. If he were in his wolf-form, his tail would be wagging like crazy right now. Chris' own arms wrapped around Peter, pulling him close.

Triads were incredibly rare and highly cherished in the were community. Fate blessing someone with not just one True Mate but two. They had found their third. And they had completely broken all protocols here. After realizing, they should have stepped away, should have contacted their Emissary. Instead, they'd invited their mate to stay the night.

"Talia is going to give us the most excruciating preaching about all of this," Chris noted.

Peter hummed his agreement and shrugged. "I have never cared less about my sister's opinion than right now, because our pretty, little doe-eyed mate is in our den."

"He does have doe-eyes," Chris agreed.

"Makes him look like Bambi," Peter purred. "Makes me want to devour him."

Chris sighed, deep and exhausted. Mostly because he agreed with Peter. In the end, Chris still was a hunter and there was something very prey-like to those doe-eyes. Tomorrow was going to test him.

/break\

Stiles woke up more well-rested than he had in… since the possession. The thought made him freeze, his throat clogging up. He hadn't slept through a night since then. Either he'd lay awake for hours, tossing and turning, or he'd wake up screaming in the middle of the night, Scotty climbing into his bed to hold him until he'd calm down again. But he'd gone to bed last night and was out like a candle in moments and he'd actually slept through the night, beyond two quick pee breaks from which he'd fallen back asleep again too.

Stretching wide, he rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. He wasn't home. Not home-home with his dad, nor home at the dorm-room he shared with Scott. He was in a stranger's home. Or, two strangers. The Argent-Hale husbands. The incredibly hot Argent-Hale husbands.

Groaning, Stiles rolled over to bury his face in the pillow. He'd seen that they were good looking on the social media post he'd found, when he figured out who Allison and Malia really were. But standing in front of them had been so much more intense. The silver fox look on Chris, the gruff edge to him and those broad shoulders. Meanwhile his husband Peter looked like he stepped out of some underwear commercial, it was ridiculous how gorgeous the man was.

Stiles was pretty sure he'd hallucinated it but half the time, it felt like Peter was flirting with him. Which absolutely could not be, considering that Peter wasn't just married, he was married to his True Mate. So this was definitely in Stiles' head, he was just too horny. He hadn't really gotten laid since… well, again, before the possession. He sighed, his mood dropped.

When he'd arrived here, he hadn't expected much. He'd hoped that they would be alright, because he wanted Scott to get his happily ever after. But the name Argent, well, it didn't just carry a negative connotation for the were community en large. A couple months after Scott had gotten turned, Gerard Argent had become their headmaster and he had a hard-on for killing werewolves, to the point of capturing Stiles and torturing him in his basement in an attempt to find Scott.

Shaking himself, Stiles sat up abruptly. Damn it. He finally got a good night's sleep and then he had to wake up tormented by memories of every fucked up thing that ever happened to him, huh. He got up near aggressively and headed for the guest room's bathroom to wash up.

Chris was nothing like his father, thankfully enough. The fact that he was married to a werewolf had clued Stiles in some, but still he couldn't have been sure until he met the man in person.

The surprise twist was that they had wanted to reach out to Stiles' pack too, for the same reason but for the other daughter. Kira was a kitsune, much like humans and banshees, she didn't feel the mate-bond as a solid bond that was easy to recognize. Non-weres only felt a strong pull of sorts and fell very easily and deeply in love, but it was different for weres. So Kira, unlike Scott, hadn't realized she had just met her mate that day. The same way Malia had realized it, but Allison hadn't.

Stiles liked how easy it was to make a game plan with Chris and Peter though. Exchange numbers, agree to talk to their people and then arrange a meeting all four of them would be comfortable with. And then he was supposed to leave again, get back home. Just to be stopped by the husbands, who kept making very strong arguments against Stiles leaving. All alone, late at night, on a road he wasn't familiar with. Yeah, looking at it like that, that was the perfect set-up for a horror movie.

So, Stiles accepted. Even though every fiber of his being told him to get out of that house because he absolutely could not sleep in the same house as the ridiculously hot, married pair of True Mates who were the fathers of Scott's mate. And yet that was exactly what he ended up doing.

Peter showed him the guest room, and the guest bathroom, and then handed him clothes with a comment about not having to sleep in his jeans and dress shirt (yes, Stiles had put on a button-down shirt in an attempt to be presentable and professional for this meeting). Stiles turned to look at himself in the bathroom mirror, noting the way the dark-gray sweat-shirt hung off his frame while the black sweat-pants fit surprisingly well. Chris' shirt, Peter's pants, was his conclusion. The shirt kept slipping off his shoulder, because Chris had ridiculous shoulders while Stiles absolutely did not, the sleeves eating Stiles' fingers in a way that Stiles honestly kind of enjoyed. Still, he thought he looked ridiculous in the shirt. But it was comfortable, so there was that.

He decided to screw it and head downstairs in their clothes. Never in his life had he gotten 'presentable' for breakfast and he was not going to start now. They'd invited him to stay and they'd given him their clothes, so this shouldn't be an issue, right?

"Good morning," Stiles greeted, feeling only slightly awkward as he entered the kitchen.

These were strangers, he'd met them last night and now he was in their kitchen for breakfast, wearing their clothes. How was this his life. Peter was at the stove, making scrambled eggs in one pan and sizzling bacon in another, while Chris was sitting at the set table, reading the newspaper. Both turned to look at him when he entered. Chris choked on his coffee, coughing violently. It made Stiles wince. Yeah, he knew he looked ridiculous in the other man's sweat-shirt.

"Did," Peter cleared his throat. "Did you sleep well?"

Stiles nodded, offering a small smile. "That bed's actual heaven and I don't know what those sheets are, but if they're missing when I leave? Don't think about it too hard."

Peter huffed out a laugh at that, amusement sparkling in his piercing, blue eyes. "We do tend to only get the best. Though the master bedroom's mattress is even higher quality."

Oh, it was really hard to remind himself that this was not flirting, couldn't be flirting, but rather that this was some kind of rich people small-talk that Stiles wasn't privy to. Shaking his head, Stiles went to sit down next to Chris, accepting a cup of coffee from the man.

"Do you mind… if I ask about your magic?" Chris asked after a long moment.

"Mh?" Stiles blinked, surprised by the unexpected quest. "Uh, no? I think? Sorry. Just, never been asked that before. I mean, never been asked if someone can ask. Usually, it's just a myriad of questions, if it comes up at all. I don't exactly advertise my magic, outside of my Emissary duties."

"What kind of magic user are you?" Chris wanted to know. "I've met Emissaries who were druids, witches, mages. Not that it matters, it's simply curiosity."

"I'm a Spark. The Spark of Beacon County, to be precise."

He was deliberate in saying county, not Hill. Because these mountains and the Hale territory? They were also his territory, technically, in his function as a Spark. He delighted in the way Peter growled and Chris sucked in a surprised breath. Sparks were incredibly rare nowadays. Natural magic users, who were gifted their powers by their land's Nemeton, chosen to protect the land. Other magic users, they had to use tools to channel their magic – potions, spells, runes – but Sparks were naturally born with magic, they carried that spark of magic in their soul. Which also did make them targets. That was why Stiles usually didn't disclose his status, but there was something about Peter and Chris that made him want to impress them, want to prove himself to them.

"Beacon County," Peter muttered curiously. "That includes our territory. That's… a very wide range. You must be quite powerful."

A small grin spread over Stiles' lips as he tilted his head and flashed his eyes at them – vibrant, turquoise and intense. It earned him a flash of ice-blue beta eyes from Peter, and a growl. A shiver ran down Stiles' spine at that and at the desperate need to be this wolf's prey.

"Breakfast is ready," Peter announced after a moment, serving them. "Eat up, Bambi."

Stiles paused, confused, because Peter was looking at him. "What?"

"The magic eyes are pretty, but I think I prefer those big, brown doe-eyes of yours. Like Bambi."

That was just teasing. Making fun of Stiles. The way people always made fun of Stiles for being such a young Emissary – so yeah, the baby deer checked out. Not flirting. He wasn't supposed to feel a pleasant rush at the nickname. Shaking his head, Stiles turned to focus on the food.

/break\

"I have a mate," Kira's voice was an awe-filled whisper. "I have a mate. A pretty, strong, flannel-wearing mate. Sti—iles, let me go talk to her."

Stiles rolled his eyes, praying for strength as he grabbed Kira by the arm. "We literally had this conversation two days ago about Scott. A meeting will be arranged and then you can talk to her. It's old tradition, but not outdated for reasons. Like, the fact that they did sneak into our territory."

Scott turned on the puppy-dog eyes. "I thought you talked to their dads and said they were fine."

They would be having a pack meeting that night, with everyone, where they'd explain the situation and Stiles would report to them all about his conversation with the Argent-Hale husbands (definitely not about how he'd slept in their clothes or shared breakfast with them or how Peter had packed him a lunch before Stiles had left after breakfast this morning. Also definitely not about the fact that he had kind of sort of stolen Chris' shirt). Stiles had wanted to give Scott, and especially Kira, a heads-up though. He also wanted to get a first feeling for what they'd want, so he could text Peter and Chris (no, he wasn't itching for an excuse to text them. He was being very normal about them).

Kira whined and slumped sideways against Scott, who mimicked her expression. Stiles hated them both for making him the adult in this situation. He crossed his arms sternly, glaring at them.

"Look," Stiles sighed softly. "I know you want to talk to them, but I just really… We will do this right, alright? So, how about you two brainstorm this. First off: Do you want two separate meetings, or do you want to make it one meeting? Show our pack as a united front and also as welcoming toward our pack-members' mates? It would be reasonable for Kira to not want a combined meeting, since bringing your Alpha to your first meeting with your mate might be intimidating."

"Oh," Kira blinked. "I hadn't considered that. I guess yeah, meeting other Alphas always does make me kinda nervous, it would probably make her nervous to have Scott there, huh?"

"It might also make her more comfortable to have her sister with her though," Stiles argued. "Which is why I want to know what you two would want, so I can pass that along to Chris and Peter, who'll tell me what Allison and Malia want, and then we find an agreement."

"Chris and Peter?" Scott echoed curiously, before grinning, broad and pleased. "Are you getting onto our fathers-in-law's good side already?"

Oh, that was absolutely a thing Stiles didn't need to consider about the two hot DILFs he couldn't stop thinking about. He shifted some, eyes settling on his bag, with Chris' shirt in it.

"There's also the matter of chaperons to be considered," Stiles continued. "Family members aren't uncommon, so the sisters might opt to pick each other. You could choose your parents, don't make such a face, Scotty, I find the idea of bringing my dad to a first date awkward too, but since it's all about protecting the pack, it makes sense that teen wolves would bring their parents for safety. It's most common to have both packs' Emissaries chaperon though, since they are the most neutral and are also the ones who arranged the meeting in the first place."

"I don't mind you coming along, Stiles," Scott tilted his head. "Actually, I think it would make me feel better to have my best bud with me because the whole thing, as eager as I am, does make me hella nervous. I mean, she's my soulmate. I don't even know her but I already know I want to spend the rest of my life making her smile and that's… that's scarily intense."

"I wouldn't mind you being there too," Kira piped up. "And on the matter of it being a double date or not, I… I don't care either way? Like, if Scott's presence makes her uncomfortable, I'm fine separating our meetings, but if she wants her sister there with her, I'm also fine with doubling."

"Yeah," Scott nodded. "I wouldn't want to make anyone uncomfortable."

Stiles nodded pleased, arms slowly uncrossing as he relaxed. Doing his Emissary work was a great distraction from his turmoil of feelings and desires that he absolutely had no time to deal with.

"Okay, then let's talk possible locations," Stiles sat down in front of them with his legs crossed.

With that, the three really got into the nitty-gritty of it all, mapping out various scenarios on how this could or should go, Stiles taking notes to later discuss with Chris and Peter.

/break\

Three hours. Peter and Chris had to listen to a three hour lecture from Talia. The first hour was about how irresponsible they had acted as fathers, how bad their advise to their daughters had been. The second hour was dedicated to how irresponsible they had acted in regards to their own mate, by inviting him to stay the night – how incredibly inappropriate that had been. And the last hour was all for Peter and about how all of this was so much worse because he was her left hand, he was her adviser, her second, her representative. Excruciating to listen to.

And yet, for the first time in his life, Peter found himself not even minding the lecture too much. His thoughts kept drifting off to their beautiful, doe-eyed, snarky little mate. They had a third. Peter had been blessed, not just with his wonderful Christopher, but with a little spitfire Spark too.

The image of their mate walking into their kitchen, wearing Peter's sweat-pants that pooled only a tiny bit around his ankles, because Stiles and Peter were nearly the same height, and Chris' sweat-shirt, the one that was worn out to be so soft that it was Peter's favorite to borrow too, which was why he had picked it – to make Stiles smell like them both, and to make his favorite shirt smell like Stiles. Sadly, Peter hadn't found the shirt yet. Wherever Stiles must have thought the hamper was, it was not their actual hamper. Oh well, once they got home, Peter would get to more thoroughly search for it and then put it on and bask in both his mates' scents.

"Dad, why does pa look smug? You two just got scolded by aunt Talia for like… three and a half hours…" Allison frowned, first at Peter and then at Chris. "What is going on?"

Chris behind Peter heaved a sigh and closed the door as the two of them walked into the living room, where their daughters were waiting for them. Malia was curled against Allison's back, scrolling on her phone, while Allison had been sharpening arrows until their dads entered.

"Hello to you too, princess," Peter huffed, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

"We… need to talk, girls," Chris' voice was heavy, though he paused when he saw the way their daughters exchanged a worried glance. "It's not something bad, it's just… a lot."

"We guessed, considering you texted us last night to come home," Malia raised an eyebrow. "Is this about my mate? You said you'd talk to Deaton so he will arrange a meeting next week. Did you?"

"No, we haven't had a chance to speak to Dr. Deaton yet," Chris rubbed a hand over his face. "Before we could call him, we got a… surprise visitor. The McCall Pack's Emissary."

Allison froze and Malia turned her head to sniff around, her eyes flashing blue. "Wait. Stiles is the pack's Emissary? I thought there was a weird familiar scent lingering that doesn't belong here."

"Stiles is the Emissary of the McCall Pack," Peter confirmed with a slow nod. "But he wasn't here about you, pumpkin. He was here about Allison."

"Wait, what," Allison's eyes widened. "Why me?"

Peter and Chris sat down on the living room table, right in front of their daughters. Peter slipped one hand into his husband's, linking their fingers. Giving it a light squeeze. All Chris had wanted was for their girls to be safe, and to not get involved with the attention-drawing True Alpha. Now Allison was that True Alpha's True Mate. They hadn't even had a chance to talk about that yet.

"Alpha Scott McCall recognized you as his True Mate, when Malia found hers," Peter spoke gently, a voice he had reserved only for his daughters. "And he sent Emissary Stilinski to make contact with us. You… have both found your True Mates."

There was a pregnant pause, not just because Peter was giving the girls the chance to digest, but also because Peter was struggling with whether or not to tell them about Stiles too. Lies had never been how they did things in their family. Allison had demanded it, after all the lies the Argents had kept, all the danger that had put them in, and Chris and Peter had promised to never lie to them.

"When Emissary Stilinski arrived here, Peter…" Chris gave his mate a look, receiving a short nod of confirmation. "Peter realized that he's our mate. Our third. That… we are a triad."

"Stiles," Malia stared at them stunned. "Stiles is your mate. Stiles?"

"Dad, you really have a type," Allison couldn't help but say, covering her mouth with a hand. "I'm sorry, I just… the snarky sarcasm, manipulative, sly. You have a type."

Chris made a small noise, burying his face in his hands. A pleased grin spread over his lips as Peter considered this. Snarky, sarcastic, sly? That sounded delightful, he couldn't wait to get to know Stiles better, though he had to admit that he'd liked the first impression already.

"So… what's going to happen now?" Malia asked tensely. "For… For all of us?"

"Dr. Deaton will return on Monday and me and Peter are going to talk to him, to… send him to the McCall Pack on our behalf," Chris sighed, looking tired. "Which… is going to complicate things for you two too, and I'm sorry for that. Peter and I could have continued making the arrangements, but since… protocol dictates that… we shouldn't talk to Stiles directly either. So Dr. Deaton is going to take over the arrangements for… all four of us."

"Am I the only one who thinks that this is really freaky," Allison blinked. "I mean, that all four of us found our True Mates in the McCall Pack, right?"

"Yeah, no, I agree," Peter chuckled lightly, reaching out to caress Allison's cheeks, to scent-mark her. "I'm very much looking forward to how this is all going to unfold."

Malia made a small noise, glowering. Peter reached out to caress her too. He could relate, after all. His wolf wanted nothing more than to follow Stiles, to steal their mate and bring him back to their den and then curl around the young Spark. A sigh escaped him. It was Saturday evening and Deaton was only going to return on Monday, to then be briefed and, at the earliest, drive out to Beacon Hills on Tuesday. It was very unlikely that they'd get to see their mate before the end of the week.

/break\

Stiles was lounging on his bed, working on his homework. Scott kept giving him looks. He had done so for the past three days now. And maybe it was deserved. But Stiles was absolutely not going to bring this up first. He would literally rather die than explain to his best friend why he was wearing a gray sweat-shirt that didn't fit him and wasn't his and smelt like two strangers. Nope. Unless Scott put words to those significant looks, Stiles wasn't going to explain anything.

Knocking on the door interrupted the awkward stares and Stiles was happy to flee and let the distraction in. With any luck, it would be Danny with a bag of burgers and milkshakes. When he opened the door, he did not come face to face with Danny and dinner.

"Uhm… I'm assuming you're visiting your… children? But you got the wrong door."

The stranger looked surprised for a moment, but then he smiled and shook his head, his eyes regarding first Stiles and then past him, looking at Scott. "No, Emissary Stilinski, I think I'm at the right door. Though… I didn't know you and Alpha McCall lived together. That… makes this a little more awkward, as I assume you are not going to leave if I request it."

Stiles raised both of his eyebrows, spreading his arms to hold onto the door and the frame. Blocking the entrance to their den. Something about this guy put him on alert. He dragged his eyes over the stranger, taking in the little details. The powder under his finger-nails, the bag he was carrying, the small splatters of something purple on his shirt.

"I'm not leaving my Alpha alone with a foreign magic user," Stiles narrowed his eyes. "Druid."

"Doctor Alan Deaton," the stranger looked genuinely surprised. "Yes, I am a druid. I'm the Emissary of the Hale Pack. And I'm here to speak to Alpha McCall."

"Why?" Scott was suddenly right behind Stiles, his chin on Stiles' shoulder. "I mean, don't Emissaries like… talk to each other? Also, weren't you just over at the Hale territory like five days ago? Did something happen? Did… Did Allison's parents change their mind-?"

"This is not about Allison or Malia," Deaton smiled enigmatically. "It's about your Emissary."

Stiles turned to look at Scott, who looked as surprised. "Dude, what did you do?"

"I swear I didn't do anything! I mean, not anything that should reflect badly on you, or us?"

Oh no. Peter's wolf-nose had been able to smell his attraction to the mated pair and he'd made them uncomfortable. They sent their Emissary to deal with Stiles after all so they wouldn't have to. That explained why they hadn't replied to his texts yet, even though he'd sent them on Sunday and now was Tuesday. He'd distracted himself with school work on Monday, but the more hours had passed today, the more jittery did he grow. He'd fucked up, hadn't he?

"Perhaps we could move this conversation out of the dormitory hallway…?"

Stiles didn't like letting the guy in, but he didn't want to have this conversation outside either. Stepping aside, he led the way toward their kitchen table. Though he remained standing.

"From what Peter told me, you have done excellent Emissary work," Deaton assured Stiles. "It were Peter and Christopher who acted inappropriately. Peter realized that you are their mate, their third. They should have ended conversations at that point, not invited you to stay. And judging by the way you are wearing Chris' alma mater sweater, I am assuming you can feel the pull of the bond too."

A blush lit up Stiles' face and it only grew darker when Scott turned wide-eyed on him. So there was the answer to Scott's unasked question about the sweater. Stiles fidgeted with the sleeves.

"Wait," Stiles' heart sped up. "I'm their mate. Both their mate."

He had mates. He had two mates. A triad. Triads were incredibly rare and incredibly powerful. Oh, okay, no actually that checked out. He was a Spark. He was incredibly rare and incredibly powerful. It figured that he'd have two mates sent by the Fates to protect him. A strong, cunning wolf and a seasoned, capable hunter. He swallowed hard. So that had been flirting after all, huh. Wow.

"That's why they haven't answered my texts," Stiles whispered with a relieved sigh.

"Talia – Alpha Hale – has confiscated their phones, after she learned that they had dared exchange numbers with you," Deaton chuckled. "I'm here to take over conversations regarding Malia and Kira, as well as to start a dialogue about you, Emissary Stilinski."

Nodding slowly, Stiles leaned back. Okay. Okay, yeah that made sense. His stomach flipped. He had two really fucking hot mates, holy shit. Biting his lips, he sat down after all. This was a lot.

/break\

Chris was feeling giddy like a teenager ready for prom, it was quite frankly embarrassing. At least his husband next to him was no better. If anything, Peter was worse. It took Chris holding his hand to stop Peter from running off to the campus and stealing Stiles early.

Today was the day, after eight torturous days of not seeing their mate, today was finally the day of their first official meeting. They'd agreed on a restaurant of Chris and Peter's choice, but within the McCall territory. Giving Stiles the reassurance of his pack being close by, while allowing Peter's wolf to show their mate they could provide for him. However, their meeting was only in three hours. They had left home a little early and a little over-eager…

Chris' phone buzzed – he had gotten it back from their Alpha today, though with a stern glare. He frowned curiously when he saw the name BAMBI blink up at him. Right. Peter had saved Stiles' number on Chris' phone. Accepting the call, Chris straightened his posture.

"Hello, Stiles," Chris immediately got Peter's attention, the wolf perking up.

"Uhm, sorry. Not Stiles. Scott," a pause. "Scott McCall. Alpha Scott McCall. I swear I will get the hang of this one day. I'm… uh… I'm calling on Stiles' behalf."

"Alpha McCall," Chris' eyebrows furrowed. "Why are you calling me from my mate's phone?"

"I, we, are sorry to call this short-notice, but…" Scott made another pause, awkward. "I'm sorry, we'll have to cancel today's meeting. Not cancel. Just… reschedule."

"I'll ask again. Why do you have his phone? Is he alright? Did he get hurt?"

"No! No, no, he's not hurt," Scott was quick to answer. "I swear. I just… He's not… feeling well. Like, really not well. I hope you didn't leave yet and I hope you're open to… finding a different date. But today isn't… a good day. Again. I'm sorry. Like, really sorry, I know how much this must suck for you, I wouldn't have wanted to reschedule mine and Allison's first meeting, but he… really isn't feeling up to it, and I hope you understand that."

It felt like there was lead settling in Chris' stomach and he gripped Peter's hand very tightly. Of course did they understand, but they had been looking forward to today all week long. And the thought of their mate being sick and alone didn't help with the unsettled feeling.

"Of course," Chris cleared his throat. "We'll… We'll reschedule. Would you contact us, as soon as Stiles is feeling better? And give him our best, please."

"Yeah. Yeah, of course. I, uh, I really am sorry that this is so sudden."

With a sigh did Chris hang up. He deflated some. They'd been looking forward to this date so much. He startled when his husband pulled on his hand, urging him on. Was Peter so disappointed he couldn't wait to get out of Beacon Hills again? Looking up, Chris frowned as he noticed that he was being dragged into a shop. A flower shop, to be precise.

"Peter, you heard the phone-call."

They had been on their way to this shop to get flowers for their mate, but Chris wasn't sure what the point was now. Peter growled lightly at him and sniffed around, following his nose to pick the right flowers (well, his nose and the price-tags. Peter always loved buying the most expensive thing, if it was also good). Raising one eyebrow, Chris watched and waited while Peter picked out a large, expensive and beautiful bouquet.

"We're going to meet our mate," Peter declared as they left the store.

"He's not feeling well," Chris frowned. "What are you up to, Peter?"

"Well, just because he's not up for a date doesn't mean we can't just… at least see him, before we head back," Peter pouted. "We're going to the restaurant where we have our reservation and we'll pick up soup for our Bambi. And then we head to the college, give him the flowers, the soup, see for ourselves how his condition is, and maybe check on our daughters while we're on campus."

Mh. Chris didn't hate that plan. He would feel much better if he'd get to see Stiles too. And his wolf was going to be unbearable if he didn't get to lay eyes on Stiles. Chris nodded his agreement and led the way to the restaurant to get some take-away soup for their sick mate.

They walked fast and with purpose, both eager to see Stiles. Though they did take a moment to compose themselves when they reached his dorm-room (that they had gotten from Malia and Allison). Chris raised his fist to knock at the door, since Peter's arms were full with the container of soup and the bouquet. Werewolf courting. Providing for their mate. Chris remembered being on the receiving end of that and how much it had flustered and pleased him.

"What are you doing here," Scott frowned at them, clearly displeased. "This is so not protocol."

"We bring soup for Stiles," Peter smiled lightly, lifting the container.

"Why?" Scott's frown deepened, confusion screwing his face.

"...Because you said he's sick," Chris narrowed his eyes at the young Alpha. "We'd like to see him."

Something felt off. Something about this felt off. The tenseness to Peter told him that his mate felt the same. Scott effectively blocked the entrance way. It didn't help settle the feeling.

"He doesn't want to see you," Scott glared.

Chris froze and Peter next to him gave the most miserable whine. Was that what was wrong? Stiles didn't want to see them? He wasn't sick, he was bailing on them. What had chased their mate away? The age difference, the fact that both Chris and Peter had daughters the same age as Stiles? Or was it Chris' family, what Gerard had done to Stiles?

Stiles squeaked, somewhere inside the dorm-room, and made a frustrated noise. "God damn it, Scotty, that was the crappiest way you could have phrased that!"

Scott winced and then offered an apologetic face. "Yeah, that came out wrong. Sorry."

Peter took a slow, deep breath and Chris could see the self-restraint that went into him not immediately moving. "With all due respect, Alpha McCall, but if you don't get out of my way right now so I can see my mate, I will do something my sister is going to hate."

At the clear threat, Scott flashed his eyes Alpha-red and growled. "I will not be threatened in my territory. And certainly not for acting in my pack's best interests."

A defeated sigh came from Stiles. "It's okay, Scott. Just… Just let them in…"

With a frown did Scott turn around, presumably to face Stiles. "But you said-"

"Yeah, yeah," Stiles sighed again. "I said I didn't want them to see me like this. I didn't calculate for protective werewolf instincts though. You think that they could keep you from Allison, if you thought she was sick or maybe hurt…?"

That made the young Alpha falter. Finally did he step aside, allowing Chris and Peter to enter the room. It was small, a kitchenette in the corner, with a round table that had two hairs, a door opposite the kitchenette, most likely leading to the bathroom, and opposite the entrance, in the two other corners of the room, two beds. Stiles was sitting on one of them, the one that had been out of view due to the angle. The boy was curled into himself, legs drawn up against his chest, arms around his knees. It made him look so small and it made Chris want to protect him. The second thing he noticed was the shirt Stiles was wearing. Because it was Chris' shirt.

"So that's why I can't find it anywhere in our home," Peter noted curiously. "You took it."

Stiles frowned at them for a moment, before he realized what he was wearing and what Peter was talking about. His cheeks flushed a pretty pink and he turned to look away from them, clearly embarrassed. The third thing that stood out was Stiles' overall state. He was pale, paler than he'd been when they'd met him, which made the blush look all the brighter. There were deep, dark bags under his eyes. Red-rimmed eyes, like he had been crying. Stiles' thumbs were pressing against the pads of his fingers again, slow and purposeful. Ah.

"Why did you tell Scott to lie to us?" Chris asked, keeping his voice soft.

He didn't want it to sound like an accusation, but he did have to know. Stiles looked up, frowning at him. Peter, all the while, had taken a seat on Stiles' bed, right next to Stiles. Not touching though, not yet. Not now that they both had realized that Stiles wasn't physically sick, Stiles was most likely dealing with the aftermath of a flashback. They didn't know what kind of trauma he'd gone through, they knew so little about their mate, so it was better to not startle him with unexpected and thus perhaps unwelcome touch. Chris grabbed one of the chairs and dragged it in front of Stiles' bed so he could sit opposite the boy without sitting down on Scott's bed. Scott, who was still lingering at the door, though he'd closed it by now. He was watching them, wary and careful. Protecting his vulnerable pack-mate. Chris could appreciate that.

"And why didn't you want to see us…?" Peter reached out, still not touching but clearly fighting his instincts here. "Did you think we would judge you for having flashbacks…?"

Stiles' head snapped over to stare at Peter in surprise. "How-"

"We've both lived through our own fair share of trauma, we do recognize the aftermath of a flashback from having seen it on each other," Chris offered gently.

Stiles folded himself even smaller, resting his chin on his knees. "I just… I was really looking forward to today. I went shopping with Lydia, Jackson and Danny, so I wouldn't be under-dressed in the stupidly expensive restaurant you picked. But last night… wasn't a good night… I have those, kind of regularly. I look like a fucking mess, I didn't… I wanted to look good when we had our first official meeting, not like something that got chewed through and spit out…"

"You look absolutely beautiful, darling," Peter's voice was so loving.

"Right," Stiles snorted, giving the wolf a look.

"You're alive," Chris offered, resting a hand on the bed, also wanting to touch but keeping himself from it just like Peter. "Whatever you went through that traumatized you, you survived. And that's beautiful. That's what Peter always tells me about my scars. A hunter's life isn't safe, you know."

"It wasn't just that I didn't want you to see me like this," Stiles muttered after a moment. "You booked dinner at this really nice looking restaurant and it would have just… been a waste."

"Why?" Peter asked curiously, trying to contain himself.

Is Chris was struggling with how much he wanted to comfort their mate, then Peter's wolf must be absolutely losing it right now. A noise came from Scott, drawing the triad's attention to him.

"Stiles," Scott's face was twisted in pain. "You know you don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, right. I just. I know you get what True Mates mean for a werewolf, but you don't have to make yourself uncomfortable for your mate, okay?"

Stiles offered his Alpha a tired smile. "I know, Scotty. It… It's okay… But… would you mind giving us some… time alone? I don't think I can do this with you in the room."

The young Alpha looked dejected at that, but he nodded and turned around toward the door, pausing for just a moment. "You know that I don't blame you, right? And that I love you."

Stiles blinked away tears and nodded jerkily. "I know. Doesn't stop me from blaming myself."

A sad, tired sigh came from Scott, as though this was a conversation they'd had a lot in the past. Scott left the room, closing the door behind himself. Chris searched Peter's face, wondering if his wolf had any more of a clue about what was going on, based on scents, but Peter just shook his head. After a moment, Stiles scooted a little closer to Peter, and then he patted the spot on his left while looking at Chris. Well, Chris wasn't going to decline that invitation.

"When we were still in high school, when Kira had just joined our pack, we…" Stiles was deliberately staring at the wall opposite them, not at either Chris or Peter. "Kira's mom, she moved here for a reason. She was hunting something, an old nemesis. A Nogitsune. Do you… know of it?"

"Yes," Chris swallowed hard and nodded. "I've read about them."

"I know of a pack that once faced one themselves," Peter spoke carefully. "It had possessed a local in their town and… decimated the place. Not many survived."

"I was possessed," Stiles' voice was barely a whisper and the look on his face was near vacant.

Chris made a strangled noise at that. He'd known there was trauma, but he had assumed from an attack. Stiles had been possessed, by a demon. Looking over Stiles' head, he searched Peter's face. There was anguish in Peter's eyes, despair.

"It… killed many, before my pack could stop it," Stiles continued. "Not… Not fast enough though. I ki… It killed one of our own. Aiden. And it also messed with my… head. I know you noticed the finger-tapping. I'm counting my fingers, because in a dream, you don't have five fingers, you have too many fingers, so as long as I have five fingers on each hand, I know I'm awake and that it's not… not a dream, that the Nogitsune isn't messing with me…"

"Stiles, can we touch you?" Chris asked in a low voice.

A jerky nod was all it took for Chris and Peter to attach themselves to their mate from either side, sandwiching him in a tight, comforting hug. Finally, the vacant expression on Stiles' face broke. Sobs wrecked the boy as he cried in their arms, clinging onto them both. They stayed like that for nearly an hour before Stiles had calmed down somewhat. They'd moved in that time, to lay on the bed. Chris pressed against the wall, on his back, with Stiles half on top of him, curled together on his chest, and Peter pressed against Stiles' back, arms tightly wrapped around his waist.

"I… still have nightmares. It happened two years ago and I have… gotten much better, but I still get them at times. Random times. Sometimes, triggered by something specific. Other times, it just… overcomes me. After, it… it is really hard for me to tell what's real and what isn't… That's part of why I didn't want to see you because I didn't want to… question if it was really happening. Besides, the nightmares usually leave me with… everything tasting like ash, so… waste of food."

"I need you to know, and to understand, that we're your mates, Bambi," Peter whispered, urgent but soft. "We're here to support you and to protect you. Yes, we wanted to take you out on a big date, to show you that we can provide for you, mate. Show you a good time. But we're also more than happy to simply hold you, to provide you with comfort. And either way, we got to know you better."

"I'm a mess," Stiles sounded defeated, burying his nose in Chris' collarbone. "I'm nineteen and I have PTSD trice over. You guys got your life together, you're happy, you have a family. I don't…"

"You deserve to feel safe, doll," Chris gently brushed Stiles' hair back. "You deserve to have mates and maybe, you got two who 'got their life together' so they can help you with yours. Because we've been there. Maybe not a possession, but… I helped kill my sister, I lost my wife to suicide because she couldn't bear the thought of turning into a werewolf, I cut ties with my father, and that's just the family trauma. I've seen my fair share of nasty fights and near-death experiences during my time as a hunter too. We worked very hard to get to this place, and we can help you get there too. Besides, it also comes with a certain amount of patience."

"When I was younger, there was a… fire, an attack on my family. It left me in a coma for years, trapped in my own body, unable to communicate," Peter's voice was sorrowful, his face hidden in Stiles' neck. "I… It took me years and therapy and the help of my family to recover."

"Oh," Stiles made a small noise, but didn't speak.

"Maybe Fate brought us together because we're all broken in our own ways," Chris suggested. "And maybe we can make each other more whole again, together, mh?"

"I… I'd like that," Stiles tilted his head up to smile weakly. "Thank you."

"Anything for you, doll," Chris returned his smile. "You're ours, after all. And we're yours."

/break\

Peter's wolf couldn't be happier. He was wearing Chris' alma mater shirt and over it, Stiles' red hooded jacket. The jacket sat very snug if he closed it, but it moderately fit if he left it open. Surrounded in his mates' scents, while said mates were bickering in the kitchen. Stiles had come over for the weekend and he decided to make lunch today, just for Chris – the only member of their triad who couldn't cook for shit – to offer his help. Bickering ensued.

"Get out of my kitchen, Christopher!" Stiles smacked the hunter with a spatula.

Peter couldn't help the purr. My kitchen. Stiles claimed their kitchen as his own. They'd only known each other for a few, short months, yet it felt as though Stiles had always been a part of their lives, a part of them, and it seemed that Stiles felt the same way.

"This is so weird for me," Scott muttered miserably. "I mean. He's my best friend. And now he's, like, my father-in-law. It's bizarre. It hurts my head."

Allison, perched on his lap, laughed softly and kissed his cheek. Shaking his head, Peter turned away from the kitchen to pay attention to the card-game he was currently losing. He narrowed his eyes at Kira, who offered the brightest, most innocent smile. Her pinkie was linked with Malia's, who didn't seem to care at all that she was losing too, five games in a row now. Absolutely smitten with her mate and simply happy to see Kira winning. Well, Peter didn't feel the same, he would prefer to see Peter winning. Or, with a look at Scott, he would be appeased by having his own mate – either of them – perched on his lap too. Realistically, Stiles. Chris wasn't much into sitting in people's laps, much to Peter's dismay. Stiles however absolutely loved it.

"He kicked me out," Chris grunted annoyed as he sat down next to Peter. "I paid for that kitchen. And he just. Kicked me out of it. After smacking me with a spatula."

Scott looked troubled. "...Is that a euphemism? Please tell me it's not a euphemism."

"It is literal, Scotty, get your mind out of the gutter," Stiles huffed and walked into the living room. "You people are all awful, for different reasons. Aside from Kira and Allison, they're my favorites."

The two girls perked up with broad grins, while Peter growled. How dare he wasn't the favorite. He wrapped an arm around Stiles' waist and pulled him down into Peter's lap, where he belonged, so he could nose at Stiles' neck. The Spark huffed and rolled his eyes but he also relaxed into Peter.

"Dinner will be simmering for another twenty minutes and then we can eat," Stiles offered. "But, for the record, I'm with Scotty on how damn weird these family dinners are."

"Imagine if mom and dad could have also made it," Scott offered dryly.

Scott's mom and Stiles' dad were dating, which… Yes, at that point, Peter didn't want to draw their family tree. Whatever. He got to nuzzle Stiles, while Chris was pressed against him. It was perfect.

~*~ The End ~*~

#Stetopher #Chris Argent #Peter Hale #Stiles Stilinski #Fanfiction #Hurt/Comfort #Fic: The Tate Sisters #Teen Wolf #Phoe's Fics #Stiles Summer Stories 2024

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