Work Text:
Teen Wolf || Stetopher || Teen Wolf || Granny Dalia's Thanksgiving Turkey || Teen Wolf || Stetopher || Teen Wolf
Title: Granny Dalia's Thanksgiving Turkey – Surprise For the Holidays
TW Disclaimer: All rights reserved to Jeff Davis and MTV. This fanfiction on the other hand is entirely mine. No money is made with this, though reviews are more than welcomed.
Tags: m/m/m, polyamory, fluff, Thanksgiving, AU, True Mates
Main Pairing: Chris/Peter/Stiles
Teen Wolf Characters: Mieczysław 'Stiles' Stilinski, Peter Hale, Chris Argent, Derek Hale, Cora Hale, Malia Tate, Talia Hale, Laura Hale
Original Characters: Dalia Hale, Damon Hale, Aaron Hale, Fiona Hale
Summary: Stiles' dad had to work on Thanksgiving, even though Stiles flew back to Beacon Hills from college. He resigned himself to spend it alone, until he gets a text from an unknown number. Grandma Hale invites him to Thanksgiving, thinking she's texting her grandson Derek. Even after the misunderstanding is cleared up, she insists he has to come and celebrate with them when she hears that he is all alone on the holiday. What he couldn't anticipate was how meeting her son Peter and his mate would change Stiles' life.
Granny Dalia's Thanksgiving Turkey
Surprise For the Holidays
Stiles‘ phone buzzed and he flipped open his messenger app without even checking who it was, half distracted with his school work. It may be Thanksgiving break, but that absolutely did not mean he didn’t have a ton of things to do.
Thanksgiving dinner will start at 5PM please do be on time, sweetie
The text came from an unknown number and Stiles really hoped that Granny Gosia did not expect him to fly all the way to Krakow for a holiday they very much did not celebrate in Poland and though his grandparents had returned to their home country years ago – not long after Stiles’ mom had passed – they hadn’t exactly taken home a fondness for American holidays. Halloween was nonsense and a danger, the fourth of July was a waste of money on dangerous explosives, Valentine’s Day was commercialized nonsense and love should be shown every single day of the year, Thanksgiving idolized and romanticized the invasion of a country.
Though he agreed with many of these to varying degrees, he did love Thanksgiving for its aspect of bringing together family, or used to love it anyway, back when his mom had still been alive and his grandparents had still lived in the states and they all had met at the Gajos farm, uncle Stan and aunt Carol hosting for the whole clan. Now, it was just him and his dad. Or, well, this year, only him, because there’d been a series of murders in the next town over and Sheriff Stilinski and some of his deputies had been sent to help out. So Stiles didn’t even get to cook a Thanksgiving dinner for two. He’d bought himself a Turkey sandwich that he’d eat in front of the TV alone later.
Who is this?
Stiles knew better than to answer to unknown numbers, they were most likely scammers anyway. But it was Thanksgiving and he was sitting all alone in his childhood bedroom doing school work, instead of bustling in the kitchen, instead of having laughter and family.
Grandma Dalia, silly goose. When will you come, darling boy?
Stiles blinked a couple times and typed: I don’t have a grandma Dalia
Now, Derek, that is not funny, my boy!
Attached was a picture of a scowling grandma with black hair that was streaked silver and white, ice-blue eyes and a kind aura even as she scowled. Stiles also recognized the woman and smiled a little.
Sorry, Missus Hale, you have the wrong number. This is Stiles, I went to high school with your granddaughters Malia and Cora
Derek was Cora’s older brother, Stiles remembered vaguely. Former captain of the basketball team, a few years older than them. For good measure, Stiles sent a selfie too, smiling into the camera to assure Dalia Hale that he was in fact not the darling boy she was looking for. Though from what Stiles remembered from Derek, he was absolutely not a darling boy either.
Oh, Claudia’s little boy! I remember you, hanging off your momma’s skirt, with these big, big eyes of yours
Stiles’ heart clenched at the memory, his eyes feeling a little wet and his loneliness feeling all the more intense in that moment. His mom was gone, his dad was at work, his grandparents all the way back in Poland, uncle Stan and aunt Carol had more or less cut contact after his mom had died, only sporadic calls for birthdays and cards for Christmas and Easter.
He had his family away from home, back here in Beacon Hills. The McCalls. But Scott had recently gotten engaged to his long-term girlfriend Allison and the couple was hosting Thanksgiving themselves for the very first time, for both their families. Scott’s mom Melissa was great, but Scott’s dad had been invited too and Stiles hated Rafael’s guts. Then there was Allison’s deranged family. Sure, her dad was hot as sin, but her mom was a certified and terrifying ice queen and that had only gotten worse after Allison’s parents got divorced, her grandpa, their former principal, was pretty much evil incarnate and her aunt Kate was a total creep. Allison and Scott had extended an invitation to Stiles when he’d heard the sheriff would be working, but Stiles was not putting himself into the middle of that Shakespearean drama, even if he got the chance to ogle Chris Argent and even if the man may or may not bring his eye-candy boyfriend whom Stiles had seen in the background of some video-calls between Allison and Chris. Not worth it.
I hope you and your parents have a lovely Thanksgiving dinner too, sweetie.
Stiles stared at the text from Dalia and felt his heart clench again. Before he could think better of it, he started typing, fueled by loneliness and the urge to just talk to someone at all.
I’m spending Thanksgiving alone with a Turkey sandwich this year, but that’s fine. I hope you have a lovely evening and that your wayward grandson will be on time
It took the woman an impressively short amount of time to type up her answer: A SANDWICH? Nonsense, sweetie!! You will come to the Hale House, you will have Thanksgiving dinner with our family, this will be non-negotiable. If you do not come on your own, I WILL sent my son and his lovely partner to drag you here themselves. They are quite capable, I will have you know
Stiles pursed his lips in a fond smile as he replied: I appreciate the invitation, but that’s not necessary, Missus Hale, I wouldn’t want to intrude on family dinner
It was not an invitation, it was an order, young man, and you would do good to follow it
Okay, grandma Hale could be scary. Noted. Biting his lips, he looked down at his school work, then looked out into the dark hallway, listening to the depressing silence in the house. A house should not be quiet on Thanksgiving. His heartbeat skipped a little.
I am going to send my son in five minutes if I do not hear an affirmative back from you
Grandma Hale was very scary. Sighing softly, he gave a quick okay and then went ahead to grab his favorite red hoodie and his car keys so he could head out to the preserve. He’d been to the Hale House once or twice, when he had worked on a school project with Cora and Lydia. Hopefully, he’d find the way alright.
/break\
Twenty minutes later, Stiles had to admit defeat. Turned out that having driven somewhere twice during broad daylight was not the same as trying to find the place again with heavy snowfall in the near dark of late autumn. Plus, the weather did not agree with Roscoe and she had broken down.
Missus Hale, I’m afraid I won’t make it. I got lost and now my car broke down. I’ll just call a tow-truck and return home, I’m sorry for the trouble, ma’am
He sighed softly, feeling even more miserable than he had in his bedroom earlier, because for a glorious short time he had thought he would get a full, warm Thanksgiving and a proper dinner. Now, he was alone in the middle of the woods, snow piling on his car that had gone completely cold. His breath puffed white in front of him, his fingers cold.
I am sending my son and his lovely partner, they will get you, don’t you worry, dearie
A smile quirked his lips, but he still tried to call the only mechanic in town. Who was not reachable because he’d closed shop early on the holiday, of course. Okay. Now Stiles’ faith was in Missus Hale’s son. Was that Derek’s dad then, or one of his uncles? He didn’t know enough about the Hales to map out their family tree. Ever since someone had tried to burn their house down when Stiles was about ten years old, they had become very elusive.
Stiles knew from Scott that the Hales were werewolves. He’d been bitten by a rogue Alpha when they were sixteen and the Hale Pack had taken him under their wing. Scott had started hanging out with Cora and Malia back then, the only ones from the Hale Pack who were in high school with them. And though as just Scott’s friend, Stiles wasn’t part of that pack, he had befriended Cora and Malia.
Stiles had always wanted to go with Scott to the Hale House for his wolfly training, to learn more about werewolves directly from the source. He also understood why he wasn’t allowed though. The Hale Pack was a familial pack and it was already generous enough that they took Scott under their wing, why would they allow Scott’s friends to tag along like human gawkers.
The guidance and training he had received from Alpha Hale had formed Scott into a righteous, strong and kind Alpha himself, forming his own pack after graduation when he had moved away for college. Stiles was proud of his best friend for it, he really was. He just… hated that he couldn’t be a part of what Scott had built for himself. And that was in no way Scott’s fault, he’d invited Stiles into the pack, repeatedly. But they lived so far away from each other, Stiles knew he couldn’t commit to being a proper part of a pack with that much distance between them while all other members of Scott’s pack lived there with their Alpha. It’d just hurt and be weird, so Stiles kept declining. His Bachelor had led him all the way to New York, while Scott had chosen to study in California, to be closer to his mom.
A theme for Stiles, really. Feeling lonely. Not just today, alone in his childhood home, but in New York too. He’d been living there for two years now but he hadn’t really made any friends. Which, he supposed, wasn’t much of a surprise. Stiles was a bit of an acquired taste.
Knocking on the car’s window interrupted his depressing musings and he startled badly. When he turned toward the window, there was a very gorgeous man smirking at him. Dark hair styled back, a well-kept goatee, the sharpest smirk possible.
“You must be the stray my mother is trying to collect. I’m Dalia’s son, Peter. She sent me to get you.”
The look on the gorgeous man’s face changed into shock the moment Stiles stepped out of the car. Raising his eyebrows, Stiles took a tentative step back when the man growled in a very non-human manner while inhaling deeply.
“Easy, love,” a gruff voice next to Peter spoke up. “What’s wrong?”
Stiles turned toward the voice and gave a little yelp. “Mister Argent?!”
Yeah, the man resting a hand on Peter’s shoulder was definitely Allison’s silver fox of a dad. The gray in his beard looked ridiculously hot, the broad shoulders, the steely blue eyes. Stiles had never made a secret of his attraction to Allison’s dad, well, at least not in front of Allison (partially because Allison was dating a human lie detector who could also smell Stiles’ arousal and never failed to point out his displeasure when Stiles reeked of arousal after a run in with Chris Argent).
“Stiles,” Chris nodded at him, eyes slowly dragging over Stiles’ body, before the man frowned. “You look cold.”
“Yeah, the car died down ten minutes ago,” Stiles ducked his head and rubbed his freezing fingers together. “Why aren’t you at Scott and Allison’s?”
Chris cocked one eyebrow. “Because I would rather drive needles under my nails than spend Thanksgiving with my ex-wife, my father, my sister and the divorced mess that are the McCall parents. Why aren’t you at Scott and Allison’s, if you’re not spending Thanksgiving with your dad?”
Stiles grinned broadly. “Because I would rather drive needles under my nails than spend Thanksgiving with your ex-wife, your father, your sister, my arch nemesis and the unbearable lovey-dovey-ness that are our favorite newly engaged couple. Your family are nutjobs and I am still traumatized from Allison’s twenty-first birthday where she thought it was a great idea to celebrate with friends and family alike.”
A chuckle escaped Chris and he nodded. “That’s fair.”
“You know him, Christopher?” Peter growled, voice dark and dangerous.
The humor was gone from Stiles and he swallowed hard. He’d had enough experience with wolves through Cora, Malia, Scott and Scott’s pack whenever he went to visit his best friend to know that Peter’s wolf was currently very close to the surface and somehow, that must be Stiles’ fault.
“Yes…?” Chris frowned at his partner. “I told you Allison had that friend she poached off of her fiance. We met when I was visiting Allison and he was visiting Scott, two or three times, isn’t that right?”
“Sounds about right,” Stiles nodded his confirmation, though he kept himself pressed against the car. “I… I can just. I don’t know. Stay here and wait it out or something, if your boyfriend doesn’t like me…?”
The growling increased and yep, Peter definitely didn’t like him. “Why would you say that?”
“You, uh, keep growling at me?” Stiles shrugged. “In my experience, it’s not a great sign when werewolves growl at you.”
The growling stopped, as suddenly as it had started. “I apologize, I must have lost my manners, sweetheart. Now please, get into Christopher’s heated SUV before you freeze to death.”
Sweetheart? Stiles stared startled at the man. He’d never met Malia’s father before. Sure, the two had been kind of friends in high school due to Scott’s affiliation with the Hale Pack, but not ‘hanging out at Malia’s after school’ levels of friends. If anything, they’d met at Scott’s or Lydia’s.
Shaking that off, Stiles followed the invitation into the expensive and heated car, heaving a pleased sigh when he sank into heated leather seats. That was a dream, he could marry this car.
/break\
During the drive back to the Hale House, Chris kept shooting his mate dubious glares but found himself resolutely ignored by the Alpha. Once at the house, Dalia had pulled them both into deep hugs like she hadn’t seen them in months when they’d left only twenty minutes ago to fetch the lost twink. The woman was hearty and loving and Chris adored her for it.
“You must be Stiles,” Dalia smiled as she pulled the total stranger in as tightly as her own son. “You are nothing but skin and bones, and you are freezing cold! Derek! Derek, be a dear and show Stiles one of the bathrooms so he can shower and warm up!”
Derek rounded the corner with a glower, nodding a brief greeting at Stiles before leading the way upstairs. Chris took off his jacket and gloves and waited for Peter, following upstairs to Peter’s old bedroom. As soon as the door was closed did he crowd into his mate.
“Why in the world would you growl at the boy like that?” Chris asked in a tight voice. “You’re glad his best friend is a werewolf and he knows about your kind. What were you thinking? And why. Stiles didn’t even do anything threatening or annoying. You have better control than that, Alpha.”
Peter turned them around and pinned Chris against the door before kissing him heatedly. “It’s him.”
“What’s him?” Chris managed to ask between kisses.
“The scent. Our missing third. It’s him,” Peter gasped out, voice desperate.
Chris froze in his arms, eyes widening. Five years. The first time Peter had caught a whiff of their third had been five years ago, or so Peter had told him. Shortly before Peter had left for New York, to build his own pack. He’d regretted not tracking down his True Mate, but the only time he had smelt it was on his own teenage daughter, implying their mate to be a high school student at the time. And then Peter had to uproot his life, find his own territory after he’d torn out the throat of a rogue Alpha that had invaded the Hale Territory. The one that had turned Scott McCall against the boy’s will.
It left Peter an Alpha himself and Peter and Talia’s relationship was testy enough as was, without both of them being Alphas in the same territory. He’d given, quite easily. He had gone to law school in New York, had contacts there still, had missed the big city when he had moved back to Beacon Hills to dutifully be his sister’s Left Hand. Leaving again wasn’t much of a hardship, though he missed his nieces and nephews and his mother and he hated having to leave his daughter behind. But after a long conversation with Malia, they had agreed that she could finish school in Beacon Hills, with the pack she had grown up in, and follow her father after graduation. That also gave Peter time to establish a pack of his own. Find work, a place to live, negotiate territory with other Alphas and gather betas of his own.
It was where Peter and Chris had met. The Alpha had been baffled, really. He’d thought he had left his True Mate in Beacon Hills and definitely hadn’t expected to have two True Mates, but there was no denying that Chris smelt nothing like the scent he’d caught back home.
Being a wolf’s True Mate – and Alpha, at that – had been quite the adjustment period for Chris. He’d denied it at first, his own divorce from his wife and cut ties from his family too fresh a wound to consider such a thing so he had kept Peter at arm’s length, but the man’s devotion and love were undeniable. Slowly, Chris found himself willing to get to know Peter, befriend him. For the two years, they’d been in a steady relationship. Still, the knowledge that there supposedly was someone else out there meant for them was… a lot, for him as a human who couldn’t feel that pull. He felt the love, had fallen deep, deeply in love with his wolf, but he knew it was different for Peter.
“Stiles?” Chris asked startled. “Are you… Are you sure?”
“I will never forget that honey lightning scent,” Peter held his gaze, firm and certain. “I’ve only ever gotten faint traces of it on Malia and Cora’s clothes, it was… It was overwhelming standing in front of him, I couldn’t keep my wolf quiet.”
“Stiles…” Chris trailed off, stunned. “If I were a wolf, we would have known for two years.”
Peter made a disgruntled noise at that and buried his face in Chris’ neck. “Tell me about our mate.”
For a moment, Chris just gathered his thoughts. He tried to remember everything Allison had told him about the boy and everything he’d learned on the very few occasions he’d met Stiles in person, when his visits to Allison coincided with Stiles’ visits to Scott.
“He’s studying to be a librarian, in…” Chris trailed off and he barked out a laugh. “In New York. We talked about that, the second time we met, complaining about the long flight between here and there.”
“You mean to tell me that our mate has been living in the same city as us all this time?” Peter managed to look pleased and displeased at the same time.
“He’s clever,” Chris continued, carding his fingers through Peter’s hair. “Really fucking clever. Whenever Scott and Allison got too occupied with themselves, we talked. His mind works at a strange frequency, but it’s quick and passionate.”
“You sound half smitten, Christopher,” Peter accused.
Clearing his throat, Chris leaned more into his mate. “Can’t deny the twink’s attractive and fun to be around, but I never entertained doing anything with him. You know I’m faithful to you. I was just… enjoying the view, I suppose.”
“Must have been the bond drawing you in,” Peter whispered, sounding delighted as he dragged his lips down Chris’ neck. “You may not be a wolf, but you have felt our bond for the past three years and you may have instinctively recognized the same pull toward him.”
Chris remained quiet, unwilling to speculate on matters he didn’t fully understand. He couldn’t pretend that he hadn’t thought about taking Stiles to bed, had even thought about what Peter would look like ravishing the loudmouthed twink. And he had enjoyed the boy’s company. Usually, when Allison didn’t have time, he’d flee back to his hotel or do some sightseeing rather than have to put up with any of McCall’s puppy pack. Stiles was different though.
“We have to tell him,” Chris whispered. “Before or after dinner?”
“Let’s see when we can catch him alone,” Peter frowned. “My mother may have imprinted on him and decided to adopt him, which means she will parade him around the entire pack.”
"Which technically is good news,” Chris tried to lighten the mood. “Your mother already adores our mate.”
/break\
It was, in fact, not good news that Peter’s mother had latched onto their mate. Between Cora and Malia reconnecting with their former classmate – which was why Stiles’ scent had been on the both of them during high school, because he was Scott’s best friend and Scott had become part of the pack and thus part of Malia and Cora’s social circle – and Dalia parading Stiles around, Peter and Chris couldn’t seem to catch the boy alone even for a moment.
There was Peter’s brother Aaron, animatedly talking about old books with the soon to be librarian. Aaron’s wife Fiona chatting Stiles up about flowers, because apparently learning about wolfsbane had made Stiles so interested in flowers he had devoured any book he could find and was now an expert on flowers in matters of healing, poison and for some reason also flower language because apparently the boy did nothing half-way and truly soaked up any knowledge he could find. At one point, Stiles was sitting crosslegged on the floor, playing with Aaron and Fiona’s youngest, at another, he’d been playing board games with Aaron and Fiona’s oldest, as well as Cora, Malia and a reluctant Derek. When Peter finally thought he’d spotted Stiles alone, the boy was talking with a no longer reluctant Derek in a more animated manner about Stiles’ car, Derek offering his expertise as a mechanic and promising to tow it in after dinner and take a look at it.
“Brother, why do you keep creeping in the shadows near mother’s pet project?”
Peter wrinkled his nose and emptied his wolfsbane laced mulled wine before turning toward his older sister. “If you must know, the boy is the one I have been looking for for five years. He is mine and Christopher’s mate.”
Talia froze, surprise written all over her face before she emptied her own mulled wine. “Well, you sure know how to pick them. First an Argent, now a former classmate of our daughters’. And mother says there is ‘more’ to the boy, too.”
“Knowing our mother, she may very well be sensing the mate-bond,” Peter threw out.
He leaned against her, bumping their shoulders together as they stood in silence for a little while. “Would you like me to get the pack out of your way so you can talk to your mate?”
“No,” Peter declined, surprising even himself. “He… He smells so content and happy and seems to be getting along with everyone. I think I’d like to let him enjoy it before putting any kind of ‘and these are actually your future in-laws’ pressure on him.”
Talia barked out a laugh and threw back her head. “Father did scare Damon half to death back then, yes.”
When Talia had brought her own True Mate home for the first time, their father and then-Alpha of the pack had really laid it on thick with the family angle. Something that was normal and understandable for wolves, but a bit much for a human who may have only gone on two dates with the other person. It was a testimony to Damon’s love for Talia that the man hadn’t run for the hills.
“He’s perfect,” Peter whispered.
“Damon? Yes, quite,” Talia smirked teasingly.
“No, not Damon,” Peter rolled his eyes and elbowed his older sister. “Way too smitten with my annoying sister. Total push-over for her. I mean Stiles. He is clever, kind, funny. I’ve been watching him all night, navigating our family with such ease and just… fitting in.”
Talia chuckled softly and clasped a hand over his shoulder. “C’mon, let’s find your other mate and mine before the two get drunk and do something dumb again.”
That got Peter’s agreement. The combination of Chris and Damon with alcohol had ended in some memorable and chaotic situations already that had distressed their respective Hale wolves. Peter smiled, overcome with a sense of fondness as he looked at his sister. While he had still lived here, under her as his Alpha, their relationship had been tense. But ever since he’d moved out, established his own pack, they had… rekindled. The distance did them some good and standing on equal grounds did too. Finally, he could honestly say that he loved his big sister again.
/break\
“I still don’t really get how your grandma managed to accidentally text me instead of you,” Stiles mused, sprawled out half on top of Malia’s lap, with his head on Derek’s thigh. “I mean, she must have your number saved in her phone, right?”
His feet were in Cora’s lap. Wolves were very tactile and the entire Hale Pack had more or less accepted him the moment Dalia had hugged and scent-marked him – which was funny, considering that the woman wasn’t even a werewolf. As he had learned today, she was a druid, and the former Emissary of the Hale Pack, from back when it had been under her late husband’s leadership.
Still, it was a bit weird. He had never been overly close with Cora and Malia at school. But here, in their den, among their entire pack, both seemed much more open and affectionate and somehow, the three of them had clicked. Stiles and Derek had also clicked, once they started talking about Roscoe. Stiles had done enough of her repairs himself to know a thing or two about cars and as soon as he got Derek talking about something he was passionate about, the man relaxed.
“Dumbass,” Malia huffed amused, flicking his forehead. “She texted you on purpose.”
Blinking, Stiles looked up at her and then turned to look at Dalia, who was animatedly talking to her son-in-law, Derek’s dad, and Derek’s older sister Laura. When she noticed him staring, Dalia turned to smile brightly at him and wave.
“Why would she do that and how would she do that.”
“Ally texted me about how your dad’s working and you wouldn’t come to hers and Scott’s for Thanksgiving and she didn’t want you to be all alone on the holiday,” Malia explained. “She said that since her dad is spending it with my dad, maybe we could lure you here too, but she also said that if she would suggest that to you, you would say no too because you don’t want to be a bother.”
“So we cooked up this ploy,” Cora continued with a grin. “Ever read that viral post about this guy named Jamal who got a wrong text from a sweet grandma named Wanda and when the mix up was cleared, the invitation still stood and he’s been coming to her for Thanksgiving for years now?”
“Ye... Yeah,” Stiles nodded slowly and set up. “Did you meme-trap me?”
“Kinda,” Cora looked unapologetic. “Nobody can say no to grandma Dalia.”
Stiles snorted out a laugh and shook his head. Before he could get up, Derek caught his arm.
“Don’t be mad at them,” Derek frowned. “Nobody should be alone on the holidays. And they were just worried about you.”
“I am mad about being lied to,” Stiles countered. “But I’m not mad they did it, because… I am having a great time. Your family’s great and the food was actually so amazing, there was so much of it, I never considered just how much food a whole family of werewolves would eat and the benefits a human could reap by sneaking some of everything. And that was the best damn turkey I have ever had. You weren’t lying that your grandma’s turkey should be famous. It should be.”
“Thank you, dearie,” Dalia smiled, all of a sudden right in front of Stiles. “I do apologize for the deceit though, I am not fond of that. But when Malia said that her sister’s friend was all alone on a day like today, I could not let that stand. A pup like you needs to be among pack.”
Malia wiggled her nose a little at being called Allison’s sister. Even though their fathers had been dating for two years now, the girls had only met two years ago too, when they were nineteen. Allison had told Stiles over a large tub of ice-cream about how weird but cool that had been. Though Stiles had still lacked the Hale angle too, only ever hearing about Chris’ boyfriend, not the man’s actual name.
“I’m not a wolf, Missus Hale,” Stiles argued with a kind smile. “Not a pup, not in need of a pack.”
Dalia’s smile was indulgent as she rested a hand on his chest, patting it just above his heart. “You may not be a wolf, but there is a spark in your soul burning brightly and you should nurture it. For that, you have to let people in, dearie.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Stiles conceded, even though he wasn’t sure what she was talking about.
He turned to look out the window. The snow that had started about an hour before he’d left to get here had picked up considerably and even if his Jeep wasn’t stranded at a road, he doubted he’d get out of the Preserve.
“You’re staying the night, Stiles,” Talia declared, a smile that left no room for argument on her lips. “Alpha’s orders, I will not have you wander around in the snow and a car isn’t going to make it in that snow-storm. Peter, would you show Stiles one of the guest-rooms?”
These Hales were far too good at sneaking up on Stiles. He startled when Peter seemingly materialized out of nowhere. Chris’ gorgeous boyfriend. Licking his lips, Stiles nodded and tried to instead think of Peter as Malia’s dad. A hand came to rest on his lower back, pushing him gently toward the stairs. He noted the way Chris trailed after them too, amused look on his face.
“I heard what the girls said. Guess you shouldn’t mess with my daughter, mh?”
“I shouldn’t mess with either of your daughters,” Stiles countered, looking between Chris and Peter. “They are both scheming menaces.”
“Yes, Malia takes after her father like that,” Peter declared with pride.
“You can have some clothes from us,” Chris offered, motioning at Stiles’ jeans. “For sleeping.”
A blush lit up Stiles’ cheeks but he found himself nodding. It did beat sleeping in jeans. They reached the guest room and after Peter opened the door, Stiles practically face-planted onto the bed. Good food always had him sleepy and social interactions were tiring too – and there had been a lot of social interactions today. Steps led away from the room but returned very quickly.
“Here,” Chris put something down next to Stiles. “Clothes. Before you fall asleep, doll.”
Stiles’ breath hitched and his pulse quickened at the frankly hot pet-name. Peter had done that earlier too, hadn’t he? Called Stiles ‘sweetheart’. Rolling over onto his side, he stared at the two men who were still lingering in the doorway. They were staring back at him too, with… too much fondness considering they didn’t really know him. He frowned confused.
“What’s happening here?” Stiles sat up, even though all he wanted to do was sleep.
The door closed behind Peter and the wolf leaned against it, licking his lips. “What do you know about werewolf mates?”
“Like, casual falling in love and getting werewolf-married mates, or soulmate ‘I saw you and knew I could never stand to be apart from you’ True Mates type of mates?” Stiles asked.
A beat of silence and Peter gave him a meaningful look. “The second.”
Stiles was fairly sure that his face was doing something weird and complicated as he processed the implication. “Oh, I so need you to use more words than that, dude.”
A heavy sigh fell from Peter’s lips. “Do not ever call me ‘dude’ again, darling. You’re ours. You’re my True Mate, just like Christopher, which makes you ours.”
For a couple seconds, Stiles was fairly sure he forgot how to breath and just stared at the two ridiculously hot older men standing before him and staring at him like he was the moon. Being a werewolf’s True Mate was the closest a human could get to having a soulmate and yeah, Stiles had absolutely fantasized about it before, in his lonely dorm room, or whenever he’d been to visit Scott and Allison and see their unbearably sweet and devoted love. I wish I could have that too, he’d think to himself. Have someone even just half as devoted to him as Scott was to Allison.
“Stiles?” Chris’ voice was careful and so was his touch as he rested a hand on Stiles’ shoulder. “There is no pressure on you, doll. When Peter told me, I… It took me a whole year to come around on it, come to terms with this. I don’t want you to feel like you owe him or me anything because of this bond, I don’t want you to feel pressured into anything.”
“Yes,” Peter was quick to add, even as he looked pained by it. “I’ve waited to meet you for a long time, sweetheart. I want you to take all the time you need to consider this.”
“Are you crazy? You’re like the hottest guys I have ever met and I’ve had a crush on Chris for like over a year now and you’re telling me we’re practically soulmates? What am I supposed to consider here? Do I want the two hottest DILFs in the country, or do I want to stay a sad and lonely single?”
As soon as the words were out did he slap a hand over his mouth to stop any more from following. His face colored red in mortification and his eyes widened impossibly as he stared at them. But the two didn’t look offended or annoyed, if anything, they looked completely smitten. With him?
“Are you open to a kiss then, sweetheart?” Peter asked, sounding hopeful.
Stiles nodded sharply. Kissing he could absolutely do. Yes, this was a whole lot and he had to digest it all and there would probably be freak outs about what that meant for his future or also his relationship with Allison and now Malia, but kissing Peter Hale sounded really good right now. And it was good too, the man was an excellent kisser, pushing just enough and plundering his mouth like it was a treasure cave. It left Stiles breathless.
“Hey, baby,” Chris’ voice was dark and right next to him all of a sudden. “Damn, you look good like that, mouth all red and wet. Do you think I can have a kiss too, mh?”
He tilted Stiles’ face up and when Stiles looked at him, there was pure hunger in the man’s eyes. If kissing Peter left him breathless, then kissing Chris left him weak in the knees. He felt like putty in their hands, a hand clawed into each their shirts, desperate to keep them close. There was a heat burning in his chest, he’d felt it often before in the past years but it had never felt this strong. It felt like it was reaching out for Chris and Peter, trying to claim them as his, tie them to him with some unseen force. When the burning subsided, Stiles felt strangely more settled.
“Okay,” Stiles gasped out. “You two absolutely need to get out of here now.”
“Why?” Peter looked nearly hurt.
“Because I can not be held accountable for what I do if you kiss me again, or touch me, and after your mom was so nice to invite me to Thanksgiving dinner, I will not defile her son in her own house after,” Stiles stated seriously.
“Defile,” Chris snorted amused and pressed a chaste kiss to Stiles’ temple, before he let his mouth slip down to Stiles’ ear. “You’re right though. Let’s wait with the defiling until all of us are back in New York.”
Sharp teeth caught Stiles’ earlobe and tugged on it until Stiles gasped. “Out. Absolutely out. Holy fuck.”
Both Chris and Peter had the audacity to laugh at him. Before they left, they pressed a kiss on each of his cheeks and wished him a good night. Stiles remained breathless and stunned on the bed for about ten minutes before he had enough higher brain function again to get changed.
He shot a quick Thank you. We also super need to talk very soon text to Allison before he went to bed, hoping it was vague enough that Allison would just expect a chiding about manipulating him and not a ‘so I may become your second stepdad because I’m his soulmate’ speech.
When he woke up the next day and went to breakfast wearing Chris and Peter’s clothes, neither man could hold back kissing him, which was one way to break the news to the whole family, for sure.
When he talked to Allison a few days later, she was a mixture of mortified and excited.
When he got back to New York with his boyfriends, he got to meet their very excited pack (Erica was a damn treasure, Boyd was a delight, Isaac a pain in the ass but in a fun way).
And when Christmas rolled around, Dalia didn’t need to use a ruse to invite him and his dad over.
~*~ The End ~*~