Archive of Our Own ^beta

Teen Wolf || Stetopher || Teen Wolf || Next in Line || Teen Wolf || Stetopher || Teen Wolf

Title: Next in Line – Welcome to the Gajos Ranch!

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, No Hale Fire AU, the Stilinskis Move to Texas, grief, hurt/comfort, Pack Alpha Peter, Spark Stiles, Cowboy Stiles, fluff, f/f, m/f

Main Pairing: Chris/Peter/Stiles

Side Pairings: Mieszko/Gosia, Stan/Carol, Ryan/Lily, DJ/Mags

Teen Wolf Characters: Mieczysław 'Stiles' Stilinski, Chris Argent, Peter Hale, Noah Stilinski, Mieczysław ‘Mieszko’ Gajos

Original Characters: Małgorzata ‘Gosia’ Gajos, Stanisław ‘Stan’ Gajos, Caroline ‘Carol’ Gajos, Margaret ‘Mags’ Gajos, Miriam ‘Mirka’ Gajos, Ryan Nelson, Lily Logan, Dorian ‘DJ’ Jones

Summary: After Claudia’s death, Noah starts drinking. Until he realizes he needs help, for Stiles' sake, so he reaches out to Claudia’s family in Texas. Stiles grows up on the Gajos Ranch, with his mom’s family. Chris and Peter want to do something special for their anniversary – so they decide to have a vacation on a ranch, hoping for some cowboy eye-candy. They didn’t anticipate Stiles.

Next in Line

Welcome to the Gajos Ranch!

It was a normal night about a month after Claudia’s death that changed the Stilinskis‘ lives.

Noah had been at the kitchen table, doing his paperwork with a glass of whiskey in one hand. When the whiskey was gone, he refilled it. And then he refilled it again. And again. His phone next to him buzzed and the caller ID said STAN. He pushed the phone away and reached for the glass instead, waiting for the buzzing to stop.

He’s been ignoring Claudia’s family since the funeral. He didn’t even mean to, not really. But he’d started drinking more and more since a month before Claudia had died – everything just became too much. He had to take care of Stiles and of the household and still had his job as the sheriff and had his wife in the hospital slowly dying before his eyes. How could one person possibly juggle all of that? When he drank, he could at least sleep. It numbed the pain.

And then Claudia had died. His bright, beautiful and amazing wife had died and he was left all alone with a son he didn’t know how to comfort. How could he tell Stiles that it would be alright again when it was never going to be alright? Claudia was dead and that wouldn’t change. He tried. He really tried, but he felt like he was failing at everything. And the feeling of being a failure only made him drink more.

Mieszko would be able to tell, with one look at Noah. And he’d judge. Of course he would; Claudia’s father had never liked Noah to begin with. Now? Seeing Noah waste away in alcohol? A failure of a husband, a failure of a father, a failure of a man.

Noah picked up the glass and took another drink.

He tried to be there for Stiles, tried to be strong for his son, but he felt hallowed out, broken from the inside. They’d torn his heart out and buried it in the ground, with his wife. Getting up in the morning was a struggle because in the precious few moments after waking, the world felt alright. He could still smell the lingering scent of Claudia’s perfume in the bedroom and he could imagine her smiling face greeting him when he woke up. And then he opened his eyes and her side of the bed was empty and untouched. It felt like losing her all over again, every single morning.

And so he drank. To numb the pain so he would be able to keep going, for Stiles’ sake.

He knew he wouldn’t be able to do it if not for Melissa. She hadn’t said it outright, but Noah noticed, when he came home late, the house was clean and there were containers with precooked food in the fridge. Noah couldn’t bring himself to say anything either, because thanking her would mean he’d acknowledge how much he had to rely on her, how much he was failing.

The glass was empty and he put it down. His eyelids felt heavy and the drowsy warmth of the whiskey made him feel sleepy. It had been an eleven hour work day and afterward, he’d eaten dinner with Stiles and done his best to listen to the boy’s energetic ramblings about what him, Heather and Scott had done that day. It nearly made him cry, because Stiles had been so quiet for so long now – and their boy was never quiet. But Claudia’s sickness and her death had hurt him deeply.

It killed a part of Noah to see Stiles improving, now that she was dead. It killed him to know how much her sickness had affected his son. Noah had tried his best to keep Claudia’s condition from Stiles, but… so had Stiles. When Claudia started forgetting him, started treating him like a demon, starting hurting their son , Stiles hid it. Because Stiles blamed himself.

A failure of a father, who hadn’t noticed for too long. A failure of a husband, who hadn’t been able to help his wife. Just a failure…

He folded his arms on the table and rested his head on them. Close his eyes for just a moment. He still had his paperwork to finish. A brief moment to rest.

He was jolted awake by insistent, loud beeping. The second thing he noticed was the thick scent of smoke. And then he heard Stiles’ voice, soft and small and panicked.

“No, no, no, stop, stop doing that,” Stiles pleaded softly.

Stiles stood on a chair, trying to poke the smoke detector on the ceiling, the source of the loud beeping. A pot on the stove, boiling over, was the source of the smoke-scent. It took a moment for Noah to orient himself, to react to this. And then he got up and first moved the pot off the stove and into the sink. He turned off the smoke detector and then stared at his upset son.

“I’m sorry,” Stiles started sobbing softly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to wake you.”

Noah quickly wrapped his arms around Stiles and pulled his son into a tight hug. “No, no, no. It’s okay. It’s okay, kiddo. I’m not mad. It’s okay. What… What were you doing?”

“I was trying to cook dinner for tomorrow, but something went wrong,” Stiles whispered.

“You…” Noah trailed off and looked around the kitchen.

There were empty containers waiting next to the sink, a cutting board with the cut-off ends from some carrots and onions on it sitting on the counter. A horrifying realization slowly settled into Noah, like lead filling his stomach. Melissa wasn’t leaving the food in the fridge. Stiles was cooking their meals, at night, after Noah went to bed.

“Stiles, kiddo, are you… Have you been cooking?” Noah asked softly. “And… cleaning?”

Stiles wrinkled his nose and looked away guiltily. “I wanna help. You’re always so sad and so tired and you work so much and mom isn’t here anymore and I don’t wanna be useless.”

“You are not useless, Stiles,” Noah whispered fiercely, hugging his son tightly. “You’re wonderful and you’re such a good kid and you don’t have to do any of this. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I made you feel like you had to. I’m sorry I failed you.”

He buried his face in Stiles’ neck to hide his tears. He’d thought he was leaning on Melissa as a crutch, but really his son had been shouldering the brunt force of the household. His eight year old, traumatized son who’d just lost his mother. Because Noah couldn’t handle everything on his own.

His phone buzzed with the usual text from Carol that always followed after Stan couldn’t reach him with a call. Noah’s eyes landed on the phone.

Maybe it was time he stopped avoiding Claudia’s family. Maybe it was time he manned up and asked for help, from adults willing to offer it, instead of drowning in his grief and whiskey. What if Noah hadn’t been home today? Had been on a nightshift? What if this had escalated into a proper fire? What if he’d lost Stiles? His pride and fear of his relatives’ judgment weren’t worth that. Nothing was worth that. Stiles was the most precious thing in the world and he was going to do anything in his powers and beyond to make sure his son would be safe, and happy.

/break\

“Grampa!”

Mieszko Gajos laughed as he wrapped his arms around the enthusiastic young boy who’d jumped out of the Jeep and barreled straight at him. He caught the boy and whirled him around.

While he of course loved all of his grandchildren an immeasurable amount, he had to admit that little Mietek had stolen his heart the moment the boy was born. Both the granddaughters he had been given by his son took after their mother. But Claudia’s boy? Oh, he was fully Claudia’s boy. He had her dark hair, her honey eyes, her moles, her mischievous smile.

Now that Claudia was gone, this meant even more. Mietek was all he had left of his daughter.

“Hello, Mietek,” Mieszko smiled as he lifted he boy high.

“It’s Stiles!” Mietek protested with a giggle.

“Mieczysław is a strong, proud name,” Mieszko argued. “You were named after me, after all.”

“But nobody can actually say that,” Mietek pouted. “And the kids at school started laughing at ‘Mietek’ too. ‘Stiles’ sounds cool and American.”

Mieszko frowned displeased. His beloved grandson, who had been named after him, had always gone by Mietek. Because the kid couldn’t say his own name when he was a toddler. It was, admittedly, a mouthful. He’d always been little Mietek, to avoid confusion between the two Mieczysławs.

There’d always been this fear in Mieszko, that his grandson would lose his Polish roots. That fear was wholly related to the boy’s father. Though the son of Polish immigrants himself, Noah had never been raised in their culture, had never even learned their language. His parents had Americanized themselves fully when immigrating to the states, had even quietly accepted the bastardization of their last name into a bogus sounding non-word. Stilinski. And then Mieszko’s daughter accepted that last name and now Mieszko’s grandson carried that last name.

But Mieszko would not stand by and watch his grandson carry their legacy of shunning their roots.

“Ćwiczysz polski, kochany wnusiu?” Mieszko asked. [ Polish: Have you been practicing your Polish, beloved grandson? ]

“Pewnie, dziadku!“ Stiles replied with a toothy grin. [ Polish: Of course, grampa !]

“See, daddy, you’re being dramatic,” Mieszko’s daughter-in-law spoke up. “Let the boy call himself Stiles, if that’s what he wants, it doesn’t make him less Polish.”

Mieszko frowned at his daughter-in-law at that. Carol was Texan through and through, a fifth generation rancher, a true Southern Belle. Nothing about that girl was Polish and yet she had always made an effort to learn their culture and though speaking with a near unintelligible Texan accent, she had learned Polish too. She’d taken on the Gajos family name and she had embraced their family.

“Fine, fine,” Mieszko sighed. “Stiles, then. Come, why don’t we show you your room so you can unpack?”

Mietek – Stiles – nodded enthusiastically and then looked around with a frown. “Where’s dad?”

Mieszko paused and exchanged a look with Carol. She frowned deeply, chewing her cheek as she considered the answer, before she stepped up to the boy with a small smile.

“Your daddy is… not feeling well. And he… needs help. Your uncle Stan brought him to a special hospital where they’ll help him,” Carol tried to assure him.

Yet Stiles’ face contorted into panic and his breathing picked up at a concerning pace. “No, no, no-“

“It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s nothing bad,” Mieszko whispered lowly, rocking Stiles back and forth. “It’s nothing like your mother. Your father will be fine, we can go and visit him once you’re settled in. It’s alright.”

For as long as he had known Noah Stilinski, Mieszko had never respected the man. He’d always been bothered by Noah’s parents’ decision to shed their heritage and by Noah’s acceptance of it. And then the man had swept his darling daughter away to California, away from his family and the farm. When Mieszko had always pictured the way things would be, when Stan and Claudia would find partners who would of course move onto the Gajos Ranch, become part of the family and make it grow.

Instead, Mieszko’s grandson had grown up in that small town in California, away from the ranch, not growing up with horses and the manual labor that formed a person’s character, not in the heart of his family, surrounded by those who loved and adored him.

And so Mieszko had always quietly (and not so quietly) resented Noah for these things.

Yet when the man had called him and asked for his help , tears in his voice as he pleaded for help, Mieszko had, for the first time since they’d known each other, gained respect for Noah. It took a real man to admit when one was overwhelmed and needed help and it had taken real guts to reach out to Mieszko for it, considering their strained relationship. Yet when it truly mattered, Noah came to rely on his family. And that, that was something Mieszko respected.

So while Stan drove Noah to a rehab facility in Austin, Mieszko and Carol were going to help Stiles settle in at the Gajos Ranch. They would protect, love and support that boy until Noah would be ready to do an outpatient program for his recovery. And even that, they would handle together, as a family.

/break\

Every summer when Stiles was little (which was every summer until mom got sick), they would go and visit grandpa’s ranch and it was always the best and most amazing time of the year. Stiles spent all year looking forward to it. The wide land, the horses and chickens, his cousins, his aunt and uncle, and of course his grandparents. Mom would always get a Texan accent whenever they were there which would always make him giggle because it was never that pronounced when they were home. Those were his happiest memories.

And then mom got sick. And Stiles and dad kind of lived in the hospital and the station; every day after school, Stiles had to go to the sheriff station to sit with his dad until work was done so they could go to the hospital.

His mom used to work half the day, during the school day, so she would usually be home when Stiles got out of school and they would make lunch together and laugh and she would help him with his homework.

Dad wasn’t that good at homework and he wasn’t that good at cooking and he didn’t have time for it either, because he worked long and then they went to the hospital to see mom. They’d usually eat at Susie’s Diner on their way home, or take something from somewhere. Mom would certainly scold him if she’d known how unhealthy they were eating back then.

They couldn’t go to Texas that summer, because mom was in the hospital. Instead, the family came to Beacon Hills. Mirka and Maggie – Stiles’ cousins – crammed into Stiles’ bedroom, uncle Stan and aunt Carol shared the guest room, dad would sleep on the couch so grandma and grandpa could have his bed (because they were old and because dad was kinda scared of grandpa).

And then mom died.

Stiles knew he was a bad son, a bad person, but he had felt relieved when it happened. For months, she had gotten worse and worse. She would yell at him, call him names – demon, bastard, abomination – and before she had been fully hospitalized, she’d tried to drown him in the bathtub. The woman who died wasn’t his mom anymore, his mom had died way, way before that, but there was something nasty and evil using her body to hurt him and he was relieved when it was gone. When they finally got to bury his mom’s body, long after his mom had already been gone.

The family came for his mom’s funeral – and not even just the family from Texas, but also grandpa’s siblings and their kids and their kids’ kids, all the way from Poland. It was loud and full and warm, even when it was sad.

After the funeral was when things got bad. Because there was only the sad left. Everyone returned home again and dad had to go to work again and suddenly, the house was empty and cold. His dad was struggling, even more than he had when mom was in the hospital, because there was now such a resigned sadness about him. He was more quiet, more subdued. His dad with the big, bright smiles only mustered sad half-smiles now.

Mom was gone and dad had so much on his plate that Stiles wanted to help. He used to cook with mom, so now he cooked without mom. He would clean up when his dad was at work, partially to help and partially just so he would be distracted, so he wouldn’t have to think about how quiet and cold the house was without his mom.

And then things changed again, one evening when Stiles was trying to quietly cook dinner while his dad was napping at the kitchen table. Something burned. That happened, sometimes, because Stiles was clumsy and he got easily distracted and sometimes forgot that he had something on the stove. But usually he was alone at home and could get rid of the evidence before his dad came back home. This time, his dad was at the kitchen table and he heard and smelt the evidence.

They hugged and they cried and they both apologized and then they cried a little more. His dad brought him to bed, tucked him in and then Stiles sneaked back out to listen in on his dad’s phone-call to grandpa.

The next day, uncle Stan and aunt Carol were there and they were helping them pack their stuff and for dad to file for an extended vacation with the station. And then they were on their next flight to Austin, where uncle Stan and dad split from aunt Carol and Stiles.

That had been four weeks ago now. His dad was in the special hospital – though nobody really explained to him what for – and Stiles got to visit him regularly. While his dad was in the special hospital, Stiles lived on the ranch with his family.

He got to make pies with grandma, went riding with Maggie, chased the chickens with Mirka, helped uncle Stan, aunt Carol and grandpa with the ranch work, just like Maggie and Mirka did. It felt like summer break did, even if his parents weren’t at the ranch with him.

“You should just stay here,” Mirka declared fiercely.

She nodded in determination, her blonde pigtails bobbing with the motion. Stiles grinned at her. She was three years younger than Stiles and Maggie, but she was still a lot of fun to be around with.

“I’m not sure why we’re taking a vacation in the middle of the school year, but I have to go back to school soon,” Stiles argued with a frown.

It was currently spring break, so he’d only missed like two weeks of school before then. And that was supposedly okay. Losing his mom was like a special kind of sick leave or something. But he had to go back to school and his dad – well, Stiles didn’t really know.

“Why don’t you girls run off and help your mother in the kitchen?”

Maggie groaned but listened to her father, running off with Mirka. Leaving Stiles alone in the living room with uncle Stan. He was really tall and had the same dark-brown hair as Stiles and Stiles’ mom, the same brown eyes as them too. Less moles than Stiles but still some. And a funny beard. Stan walked over to kneel down in front of Stiles, putting himself on eye-level with him.

“We adults have been talking a lot, kiddo,” Stan started slowly. “And we think that your dad’s ready to be released from the… hospital in two days. But we don’t think he’s ready to go back home.”

“Because home made him sick?” Stiles guessed, causing Stan to look at him with wide, surprised eyes. “It’s all cold and empty and lonely, without mom.”

Stan’s eyes softened and he pulled Stiles into a tight hug. “We want you guys to stay with us, for now. For however long you need. That sound good to you?”

Stiles nodded against his uncle’s shoulder. The ranch wasn’t cold and it wasn’t empty and it was never lonely. His fingers curled into his uncle’s shirt as he started sobbing a little. He liked not having to cook and clean and worry about his dad. He liked not seeing his mother’s ghost around every corner. He liked taking a shower without being unable to breathe because he remembered the way his mom had tried to drown him in the bathtub. He liked being here.

“It’s okay, Mietek,” Stan murmured. “Everything’s going to be okay. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, kiddo. I’m sorry we weren’t there. I’m sorry Claudia wasn’t… I didn’t know she… I’m sorry.”

/break\

Noah took a slow, deep breath, feeling the fresh air settle in his lungs. It was as though he could take a proper breath again for the first time in months, now that he was here. He’d gotten out of rehab four weeks ago. Stiles had hugged him so tightly when picking him up, it was easy to see that the boy had been afraid. Last time one of his parents went to the hospital, she never came back.

They had gone back to the ranch, with Noah going to regular meetings. He’d planned on only staying a week longer. Then he extended the stay. And extended it even more. Stiles needed the time off, after what had happened. Not just the fact that he’d lost his mom, also everything that had happened before her death. Stan had told Noah about his conversation with Stiles, about Stiles saying that he could finally shower without being unable to breathe. Because Claudia had… Noah had known, had found them in the bathroom, had pulled Stiles from the water, but he hadn’t known that Stiles was still suffering from it. That had been over half a year ago. Stiles had never said anything, never complained. He never did.

So the fact that Stiles had admitted to Stan that he was happy here, liked it here… It was time Noah prioritized Stiles, above all else. Noah went to his meetings and started looking around town. He was running out of vacation days and he knew it was time to make a decision.

“Stiles, kiddo,” Noah called out when he finally spotted the kids.

Maggie had a white stallion named Salt and Mirka had a gray mare named Pepper. Stiles had always just played with the horses, gotten to ride along with his cousins. After Noah got out of rehab, for Stiles’ ninth birthday, Mieszko got Stiles his own horse. A white mare that Stiles had named Sugar, to match his cousins’ horses. Noah knew what his father-in-law was doing. And it was working.

“What is it, dad?” Stiles yelled as he came riding up to Noah.

Sugar neighed and Stiles patted her neck, grinning at her. He’d gotten really attached to the horse. To the ranch. He was happier than Noah had seen his boy in… in far too long. The thought made Noah’s heart clench. He helped his son off the horse and took him aside, while Maggie took Sugar’s reins.

“You like living here, don’t you?” Noah asked softly.

“Yeah,” Stiles aimed a blinding smile at his dad.

“You like spending time with the family, and you like… your new horse…” Noah continued.

“I love Sugar,” Stiles corrected enthusiastically. “She’s the best. And I love riding! Grandpa says I could join the rodeo when I’m bigger!”

“Over my dead body,” Noah muttered beneath his breath.

“Why… do you ask?” Stiles wanted to know warily. “Are… Are we going back…?”

Suddenly the bright and happy demeanor dropped and there was the son Noah had seen in recent months. It broke Noah’s heart and strengthened his resolve. Shaking his head, Noah went to kneel in front of Stiles, resting a hand on his son’s shoulder.

“I was thinking… maybe we could stay,” Noah whispered softly. “I’ve been talking to the sheriff and he’s been holding off on retirement mostly because he didn’t have a good successor here. He’d want me at the station and I could… We could start fresh here, kiddo. Live at the ranch, with the family.”

Stiles’ eyes widened and lit up before the boy threw himself at his dad, chanting yes, yes, yes. Smiling softly, Noah hugged his son just as tightly, burying his face in Stiles’ neck. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for that boy.

/break\

Gosia Gajos had always had a strong sense for the magic in others. Her Spark called out to the magical nature in beings. Claudia had been twelve when Gosia first sensed the Spark in her daughter, but it had been a soft and low hum. Barely there, really. While she’d tried to hone it, had hoped to nurture it and get to share this with her daughter, it never fully blossomed. Claudia had been more inclined toward nature – which had led her to her career as a florist, flowers thrived for her – she’d never really shown a talent for magic. That realization had saddened Gosia, but she’d accepted it and never loved her daughter any less for it.

Stiles was ten when Gosia first sensed his Spark. The children were outside playing in the rain, while Noah yelled at them from upstairs about getting sick. Gosia stood in the kitchen, preparing dinner together with her husband and her daughter-in-law, when it happened.

The rain seemed to be picking up around the children, and when Stiles laughed, lightning crackled in the sky. Gosia dropped the bowl she was carrying, surprised by the flash of bright teal.

“Mother!” Carol yelped in surprise and immediately started collecting the shards of ceramic. “You alright?”

“What’s wrong, my flower?” Mieszko asked concerned, taking his wife by the arm.

“He has magic,” Gosia whispered in awe, still staring out of the window, unable to tear his eyes away from Stiles. “I can sense his Spark. And it’s… it’s powerful, dear heart.”

Mieszko froze beside her, his eyes widening. Carol got off the floor, a few shards gathered in her hands as she too turned to look at the playing children. Stanisław, bless his heart, had been born as human as could be and he had married a human woman in Carol. Both their daughters, as precious and wonderful as they were, carried no magic in them. With how weak Claudia’s Spark had been, Gosia had never anticipated for Stiles to share their magical inclination.

“Suppose it’s time we have a sit-down with the boy about your family,” Mieszko muttered stunned.

/break\

Stiles had magic. Or was magic. He wasn’t entirely sure about that. Grandma and grandpa told him about it, while dad looked super constipated. Apparently, grandma’s family was magic. And Stiles had inherited it from his mom. When Stiles got too excited about it, Noah had cut in very sternly that this was a lot of responsibility and that Stiles had to hone his magic. Learn to control it.

So learning magic involved a lot of reading. Like, a lot . About nature, plants, meditation (which he now had to do with grandma and aunt Carol, every morning. Urgh. He was not designed to sit still!!). He had to learn breathing exercises and how to ‘center himself’, whatever that meant. Grandma took him on daily walks into the woods behind the ranch, along the creek. Teaching him to feel nature, feel the flowers and trees and water.

Only after he had those basics down did grandma finally start teaching him real magic. Potions and spells and runes and all the cool stuff that could so something. But she didn’t teach him alone.

“I’m Lily. Lily Logan. Your grandmother’s apprentice.”

Stiles eyes the redheaded girl in the green flowery dress for a moment before holding his hand out to shake. “Hi. I’m Stiles. Does that mean you’re like me?”

“Yes,” Gosia answered with a smile, resting one hand on each their shoulders. “We Sparks are very, very rare. Lily is the only Spark in Austin, her parents sent her to me to learn.”

Redwood Creek, where the Gajos Ranch was located, was an hour outside of Austin. Which was cool because it meant that Stiles could regularly go to the really big city with his family. He knew that Austin was big. Like, huge. And there was only one Spark there…? That… They were really rare, huh. Stiles didn’t entirely know what that would mean for him in the long run.

“Come on, children. Today, I teach you how to make a tree grow,” Gosia instructed.

Stiles’ eyes widened in excitement and he shot Lily a look, seeing the same excitement on her face. He hoped they could be friends.

/break\

“Sti—iles. Stiles, she is perfect. Oh my god, what do I do—o?”

Stiles, sprawled out under a tree in the school yard and trying to read the book they got assigned in literature class and that they had to hand in an essay about in two days (he had not started reading the book yet. To be fair, grandma had gotten a new, old book about weather-control so naturally, Stiles had to devour it and then try it out). With a heavy, dramatic groan did Lily collapse sideways over him, draping an arm over her eyes. When Stiles didn’t react, she started elbowing him.

“Girl,” Stiles shot her a glare. “What’s wrong?”

Lily lifted her arm to peek at him with her bright-green eyes. “As I was saying: She is perfect. What do I do?”

She pointed toward the basketball court. Stiles squinted, trying to figure out which member of the girls basketball team she was talking about. Mags next to Stiles heaved a sigh and pointed more directly.

“Ryan Nelson, one year above us, average grades, captain of the basketball team,” Mags supplied dryly. “Lily has literally been doing the heart-eyes since the school year started. How do you not know that. I know that and she is only my best friend by proxy of you.”

Stiles shot his cousin a glare at that. “Lily has had three life-altering crushes this summer alone. One that had her declaring she would be moving to London. I’m sorry that I don’t pay as close attention to the lesbian drama as you, gossip queen.”

Mags stuck her tongue out at him and Lily elbowed him again. Why was he surrounded by mean women. They were thirteen now, Stiles had been friends with Lily for three years, lived in Redwood Creek for five years. Sometimes, it felt like his life in Beacon Hills was just a distant memory.

“This is different, Mieczysław,” Lily declared with fierce determination. “This one, I can feel it, is True Love!”

Stiles wrinkled his nose at her slightly off pronunciation of his name. She always did that to show that she was serious. It was just annoying though. Stiles turned back to look at Ryan Nelson more closely. The girl was ridiculously tall, with dark skin and dreadlocks, her arms showed that she was an athlete and yeah, Stiles definitely saw the appeal. But he also saw more than that. There was like a golden glow around her. He’d started seeing differently colored auras on some people about a year ago. Grandma said that he shared her gift of sensing the magic within people and she’d started teaching him what the different colors meant. The golden glow was that of a Beta werewolf.

This could prove to be much more interesting than Lily’s usual infatuations.

/break\

Stiles was sixteen when they started getting involved in pack business. Because Lily and Ryan had started dating about a year ago – and okay, so Lily’s crush lasting for two years and growing into love before she finally managed to ask Ryan out, that was different than the usual. Turned out Ryan wasn’t just a Beta wolf though, she was the daughter of the Alpha.

“What’s an Emissary, grandma?” Stiles asked curiously as he walked into his grandmother’s study. “Alpha Nelson apparently told Lily that he would like her to apprentice as his pack’s Emissary.”

Gosia’s eyes widened in surprise at that. “An Emissary is an adviser of the Alpha. They give council, guide werewolves to consider the rest of the supernatural in their decision making, because they tend to narrow their worldview onto their pack and territory. They also support the pack with magic, protection and healing.”

“Huh,” Stiles wrinkled his nose. “Lily’s sixteen. Isn’t that like… too young for that much responsibility?”

Gosia tilted her head thoughtfully. “It’s an average age to start an apprenticeship, so by the time you children graduate and are off-age, she would be fully equipped to take over the position. Has Lily made a decision yet?”

“I mean, Lily mostly thinks with her heart and her heart is wrapped around Ryan’s little finger. She is taking any opportunity to spend more time with Ryan and the romantic notion of Ryan one day taking over as Alpha from her dad has Lily absolutely heart-eyed,” Stiles shrugged. “Which means she’s leaning toward yes.”

Gosia hummed with a frown and looked at Stiles. “You and Lily are special. You’re Sparks. There aren’t many of us left in the states and we are… powerful. People of all kinds want us for that power. I don’t ever want to see either of you taken advantage of, you hear me? Don’t ever mistake an offer like that as a high honor for you – you accepting it would be the high honor for them. You hold the power. Do you understand that, Mietek?”

A faint smile found its way onto Stiles’ lips at that. His grandparents tended to use his childhood nickname whenever things were emotional, one way or the other. So he knew this mattered to his grandma. He didn’t really get it yet, if he was being honest, because an Alpha wolf was kind of a big deal after all and advising them, being that involved in a pack, sounded like a great honor and also kind of like a cool adventure. But he nodded regardless.

/break\

Graduation went without a hitch, which was honestly more than Stiles had anticipated. Ever since werewolves became a part of their lives, things had gotten much more exciting and also dangerous. Lily was still dating Ryan, and Mags had started dating a boy from the pack named DJ. Together, the five of them – often with Mirka as a tag-on even though she was younger than them – had gotten into a lot of trouble over the past two years. The ‘dodging werewolf hunters’ and ‘fighting an evil Darach who was trying to drain the magic from the sacred grove grandma Gosia was protecting’ kind of trouble. The kind of trouble that had landed Stiles in the hospital on more than one occasion.

Genuinely, he had half expected graduation to include the ground opening up or the mayor turning into a giant monster that wanted to eat everyone, full Buffy-style. But it had come and gone and everything was calm. Dreadfully calm, actually.

It was Stiles’ last summer before college – he’d signed up at the University of Austin. He was going to take a student apartment together with Mags, Ryan and Lily. This was the last summer they were going to be living in Redwood Creek and Stiles just kind of wanted… something interesting to happen. One last adventure before college.

“Stiles,” uncle Stan called upstairs. “The new arrivals are coming in a bit, I’m still fighting the radiator with your father, can you go out front and greet them?”

“Sure thing,” Stiles called back and made his way downstairs. “Which ones?”

The Gajos Ranch had a second big house that they rented out to tourists, particularly over the summer, to make some extra money, because farming didn’t bring as much as it used to. Lily used to fall head over heels for every girl that checked in with her family, back before she started dating Ryan. Stiles himself may or may not have had a few summer romances that way.

“Married couple, the Hales,” aunt Carol provided from the kitchen.

Hhu. Not many married couples who chose the farm life as a romantic vacation spot. Most were either families, or newly weds who wanted their honeymoon to be ‘adventurous’. He grabbed his hat and put on his boots before exiting the house.

Just as Stiles closed the door behind himself did a black SUV pull up. He paused when the car’s doors opened and the prettiest man he had ever seen in his entire life stepped out of the passenger side. The very tight and very low-cut v-neck shirt that left so little to the imagination, a trimmed goatee framing his sharp jawline and very strong, distracting forearms and intense, blue eyes. But the most distracting and surprising part about this overall package of a man was the red glow around him. An aura that Stiles had only ever seen once before, around Ryan’s father. Alpha werewolf.

Stiles stumbled a little at that and stared at the man, unsure what to do with that. In the meantime, the man’s partner got out of the car and holy hell, that was the most certified silver fox Stiles had ever seen, with a well-groomed, silver-streaked beard and sharp, blue eyes. He was clearly well-trained, from the way his shirt hugged his frame and hng, arms again, because his sleeves were rolled up and Stiles’ eyes traced up the veins on the man’s forearms. This time, however, the aura he got had him take a startled step back – because his hair and beard were not the only things silver. The faint silver glow around him easily identified him as a hunter; not supernatural in nature himself but drenched in the supernatural creatures he surrounded himself with and killed.

Holy shit the new guests were a couple of hot DILFs. And they were an Alpha werewolf and a werewolf hunter. Well, that sure sounded like Stiles’ summer was going to be interesting after all.

“Hey,” Stiles greeted them after a long moment, then he cleared his throat a little embarrassed at the crack in his voice. “Hello there! I’m Stiles, the owner’s grandson. Let me show you where you’ll be staying. You’re the earliest arrivals this summer, but there’s more guests coming in the following weeks. Until then, you’ll have the guest house to yourselves for now.”

The Alpha werewolf was looking at him, slow and appreciative. The intensity of those ice-blue eyes had Stiles flustered though, before the wolf smiled and took Stiles’ hand to shake.

“Peter Hale,” he said. “And this is my husband, Chris. Thank you for having us.”

“If you need help with your luggage, I could call over one of our farmhands,” Stiles suggested. “Because I was not built for strength.”

“We’ll be good, sweetheart,” Peter assured him amused, picking up his suitcase.

Stiles grinned playfully and flexed. Though he’d been doing farm-work for ten years now, he just was on the leaner end of the body-build spectrum, he’d never bulked up. Besides, he let the werewolves do all the really heavy lifting around here. Which did remind him…

“Do you already have an appointment with Alpha Nelson?” Stiles asked curiously.

He was leading the way to the guest house. The Hales paused at that warily and Chris’ fingers flexed toward his hip, like he was trying to reach for a gun that wasn’t there. Well, not the most ideal instincts to have on a farm filled with werewolves.

“I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about,” Peter stated neutrally.

Stiles opened the door to the guest house and offered them a smile. “I’m not super versed in werewolf culture, but I do know you’re supposed to alert the local Alpha if you cross into their territory. If you haven’t reached out yet because you don’t know who the Alpha of the territory is, I could make arrangements for you to make it easier.”

Peter tilted his head very curiously at that, his eyes not leaving Stiles. “What do you know about werewolf culture? You’re not a wolf.”

Stiles grinned impishly, leading the way inside and upstairs, having the husbands follow him. “My cousin’s a wolf, part of the local pack. She got bitten by a rogue Alpha during our junior year in high school. So I’m not really part of the pack, but I’m involved with it. Two other members of the pack are working as farmhands here over the summer for some extra money.”

Both visibly relaxed at that and nodded. Stiles opened the bedroom door, waving inside. Chris walked past him, followed by Peter. Once they put their things down, Chris turned to look at Stiles with steel-blue eyes. They really did make Stiles feel like prey trapped by a hunter.

“How did you know Peter was a wolf?” Chris asked, in a low, dark voice that sent a shudder down Stiles’ back. “If you’re not a wolf and couldn’t smell the wolf on him.”

“I have other ways of telling these things,” Stiles replied with a teasing smirk. “Stick around and you may learn what I am. For now, why don’t you get settled in? You booked with breakfast and dinner, right? Dinner and breakfast are between six and nine, PM and AM respectively obviously. Come by the main house for it. You can also come by if you need anything or have any questions.”

Stiles gave a two-finger salute and then left the hot married couple to it. He made his way back to the main house and then bee-lined directly to his grandmother, who shot him a curious look.

“What’s wrong?” Gosia asked, attentive eyes watching Stiles’ aura.

“The new guests. They’re… One of them is a werewolf and the other is a werewolf hunter. And the wolf? Not just a regular beta. He’s an Alpha,” Stiles blurted out wide-eyed.

Gosia pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes. Golden honey-brown looked back at Stiles thoughtfully. They had had supernatural guests before. Plenty of them, really. Not Alphas.

“Call your friend Ryan, have her… snoop around, see if she can find out from her father if this wolf is here on any kind of official business,” Gosia requested softly. “Alphas rarely take vacations outside their territory. It’s usually a business trip. I do not want our home to get in the middle of whatever kind of trouble an Alpha and a hunter could get up to.”

Stiles hummed with a sharp nod. It was a bit too Romeo and Juliet for his taste too – a werewolf and a hunter. Chances were their romance was laced with the same kind of body-count. Stiles preferred to keep danger from this ranch. It was what him and his friends had spent their high school time doing. It was what had landed Stiles in the hospital more than once. It was what had led to Mags turning into a werewolf herself. Protect the family, protect the farm. First two rules.

“I’ll call Ryan. And I’ll keep an eye on them,” Stiles declared with a frown.

“You didn’t…” Gosia reached a hand out to rest on his upper arm. “You didn’t reveal yourself, did you? The last thing I want is for some foreign Alpha to snoop around my Spark grandson.”

Stiles made a bit of a face at that. “I mean I didn’t tell them I’m a Spark. I did reveal that I knew he was a werewolf though. But there are plenty of supernatural and magically inclined people who could be able to tell that. Sparks are so rare, it’s not gonna be their first guess.”

Gosia hummed and nodded at that, giving his arm a gentle squeeze. “Be careful, dear.”

“Always am, grandma,” Stiles grinned mischievously.

/break\

When Christopher had suggested they go to a ranch for their wedding anniversary, Peter had been thrilled. He remembered spending every summer as a kid at his uncle James’ ranch, the Hale Ranch that had fallen out of use decades earlier, before James took it over and fixed it up together with his mate. Riding with his siblings had been some of his fondest childhood memories.

It was a little trickier for an Alpha werewolf, to find a place for a vacation that either had no pack, or an accepting Alpha. The Nelson Pack in Austin had been allies from Peter’s grandfather’s times, so he had reached out to them. When Alpha Bryan Nelson gave his okay, Peter and Chris started looking for a ranch – and they both fell in love with the charming Gajos Ranch.

And then they got to the ranch and this beautiful cowboy greeted them, long legs wrapped in tight jeans, a flannel shirt spanning over his chest, cowboy hat and boots on. Big, brown eyes seemed to see all of Peter with one glance, making the Alpha shudder. And then the boy revealed that he indeed did see all of Peter – because he somehow knew Peter was a wolf. How, well, Peter was keen to find that out. The boy wasn’t a wolf himself, not a shifter at all, from what Peter could tell. But he clearly was something. And Peter would figure out what exactly.

“Dinner was absolutely delicious, Missus Gajos,” Peter smiled charmingly.

The owner, Mieszko Gajos, was a stern looking, white-haired older gentleman. Gruff, showing the years spent as a cowboy. The man’s wife, Gosia, had prepared dinner for the family as well as Peter and Chris. She was a kind-looking grandmother type, who made one feel right at home and welcomed (the opposite vibes to her husband). There were three other adults, somewhere around Chris’ age, maybe a little older – Noah, Stan and Carol – as well as three teenagers – Stiles, Mags and Mirka. The girls were sisters, the same sun-blonde hair as their mother Carol.

Over dinner, Peter and Chris had learned a few things about the family. Mirka was a Freshman in high school, while Mags and Stiles had only just graduated high school and were about to start college in fall. Which meant the pretty little cowboy was eighteen, information that Peter filed away for potential personal use later. Noah was the sheriff of Redwood Creek, and he was Stiles’ father. Peter wasn’t entirely sure about the relations beyond that – how the middle generation fit together there; whose sibling Noah was – but the family seemed like a tight-knit bunch.

“How big is your pack?” Mirka asked curiously leaning forward.

“Miriam,” Stan’s voice was stern. “We don’t ask pushy questions at the kitchen table.”

Mirka rolled her eyes at her father. “I’m not a little kid anymore, dad. Besides. I’m just curious! The Nelson Pack is the only pack of werewolves I’ve ever met.”

“It’s quite alright, I don’t mind,” Peter smiled amused. “There are eight Beta werewolves in my pack, as well as a banshee and a kitsune.”

“That’s a… well-sized pack,” Mieszko commented with a frown. “I assume family-centered.”

Peter chuckled dryly at that. “More or less. My husband and I have two daughters, from… previous relationships. My daughter is a born were, Christopher’s is… turned. I gave her the bite when she nearly died about a year ago. She’s adjusted well to it. My nephew and niece are part of the pack too. But the other half of our pack are turned and have become family.”

“What’s a banshee?” Mags asked and wrinkled her nose. “We only have wolves in our pack. Well, and our Emissary, who is a total badass.”

“A banshee, or a wailing woman, is someone with a deep connection to death,” Gosia answered.

There was something about the way she looked at Peter. The same intensity as her grandson. Whatever they were, they made the hair in Peter’s neck stand up. Dangerous. Peter should not feel attracted to danger, but looking at the mischievous boy with the honey-golden eyes, well…

“Lydia, the banshee, is the mate of Peter’s first Beta,” Chris added when the girls still looked curious. “Peter was… not in the best state of mind and he came across Jackson and Lydia while they were sneaking around in the preserve on a date. His bite turned Jackson and it activated Lydia’s banshee heritage. It… was a struggle, but our pack has come together over the years.”

What an understatement. Lydia had spent half the time they knew each other keeping Peter at a distance. Only when Peter was saner again, grounded by having Jackson and Derek as his Betas, and with the help of Chris, did Lydia start trusting him. When Peter turned Boyd, Erica and Isaac, after telling them the risk. When Peter was able to show that he had the potential to be a good Alpha. And after her own stint of more or less losing her mind thanks to her own powers, Lydia had gained a new understanding for the way Peter had acted, had felt, back when he was freshly out of the coma. It was a quiet understanding that had made them grow closer.

“What are you folks doing here,” Mieszko asked flat-out, eyes hard.

Peter could feel his husband tense beside him so he reached out to take Chris’ hand, to soothe him. He smiled charmingly at Mieszko, trying to look as non-threatening as possible.

“I didn’t think you would have a problem with werewolves, considering your granddaughter.”

Mags offered a toothy grin at that and flashed her eyes golden, leaning casually against Stiles, who snorted softly. Mieszko’s eyes hardened even more though, while his wife sighed next to him.

“I got no problem with wolves,” Mieszko turned his hard gaze on Chris. “But with hunters. Especially with hunters who carry the last name Argent.”

Now Peter tensed just as much as his husband. Noah heaved a sigh, but he looked no less guarded and careful as Mieszko. There was a tension in the air and though this family seemed so painfully normal and human – Mags aside – somehow Peter felt like they were threatened.

“You gotta excuse my father-in-law,” Noah sighed. “We usually don’t judge people for the crimes of their family, but Gerard Argent caused quite some trouble when he came through town two years ago, hunting a rogue Alpha werewolf and ending up…”

“The rogue Alpha turned me and your daddy figured I should be put down,” Mags chimed, the smile a little sharper and with a little more fangs. “He captured Stiles and two friends of ours and tortured them trying to find me while the Nelson Pack hid me. Put my very breakable cousin in the hospital for weeks with broken ribs. Uncle Noah and grandpa are a little sensitive about that.”

Stiles sat relaxed, with his arms crossed. The way Mags leaned against him seemed less casual more and rather looked protective. A wolf guarding a precious pack member. Peter nodded in understanding and turned to look at his husband, leaving this one up to Chris.

“I turned my back on my family a very, very long time ago,” Chris gave Peter’s hand a squeeze. “When I chose Peter and his family over my own. I’m sorry that my family caused you pain, but… they caused us pain too. That’s why I traded the Argent name for the Hale name.”

“But you’re still a hunter,” Stiles pointed out, that intense gaze on Chris. “It rolls off you in waves.”

“I’m still a hunter,” Chris confirmed with a nod. “I hunt to protect. My mate, my family and pack, and our territory. I hunt werewolves, humans, hunters, whatever threatens us and tries to hurt those who can’t protect themselves.”

Peter was a little startled when the family turned toward Stiles at that, even the strict head of the family deferring to Stiles. Then again, Peter supposed it made sense if Stiles was the one who had been hurt the worst by Gerard. Leaving the decision to him.

“Bryan wouldn’t have let someone come onto the territory if he thought them a threat,” Stiles said, after a moment. “And I believe their words. I don’t think they’re a threat.”

“If any of my family get hurt because of you – directly or indirectly; I know the trouble that Alphas can attract – nobody will find you,” Mieszko threatened darkly, nodding toward Noah. “He’s the sheriff. We know what we need to do to make someone disappear.”

These humans were very… interesting. Peter nodded slowly, wondering if they made a mistake.

“That’s quite enough threats spoken at the dinner table,” Gosia declared, clapping her hands loudly and smiling at both Chris and Peter. “As long as you do not cause trouble to this family, you are very welcome here and we will take good care of you.”

/break\

The first day at the Gajos Ranch had gone a little unexpected. Threats all around, a curious pretty boy who was able to tell not just that Peter was a wolf but that Chris was a hunter. And yes, Chris had realized that it was Stiles who’d figured that out. He seemed to be a kind of authority figure within the family, despite being one of the youngest members. Chris wasn’t going to judge him by his age though. No, they had so many young members in their own pack, who had all proven their worth ten times over at this point. So, Chris wasn’t going to dismiss the boy that easily.

Despite how that first day had gone though, things eased over the following days. It helped when Alpha Bryan Nelson came by the farm to welcome them into the territory. There was trust there, between Mieszko and Alpha Nelson. There had to be, considering Mieszko’s granddaughter was part of the Nelson Pack. The Gajos family was welcoming, showing them around the ranch, showing them what they were allowed to do and what they weren’t allowed. What was too dangerous for tourists to get close to.

The biggest selling point of the Gajos Ranch was the wide land – the creek, the forest, the mountains. It was beautiful. Turned out the Nelson Pack, mainly located in Austin, took to the Gajos land for its monthly full moon runs. As guests, Peter was invited along to the run during the full moon at the end of their first week in Redwood Creek.

For the most part, Peter and Chris just enjoyed nature. Walking around, riding, fishing in the creek behind (Mieszko and Stan had fishing gear that they lent to Peter and Chris). Being one with nature, relaxing and enjoying that there wasn’t an immediate crisis demanding their attention. Things were going to change, the Betas were going to start either work or college this fall and Peter and Chris wanted a little break before the chaos this would entail.

Today had been particularly exciting, because Mags and Stiles took Peter and Chris to see a rodeo show and afterward, to unwind at a real cowboy bar. They ordered drinks and sat down when the music changed. Stiles looked up eagerly, his golden eyes sparkling so prettily.

“I’m not missing out on this, Mags,” Stiles grinned and grabbed his cousin.

Mags gave a put-upon sigh and grabbed her hat from the bar to put it back on before the two joined the masses on the dance-floor. Chris had never seen live line dancing before and he couldn’t tear his eyes away from Stiles when the two teens took to the dance floor. Chris held his glass tightly, eyes dark. Those endless legs, twisting and turning, the cant on his hips and when he turned so Chris and Peter had the perfect view on that pretty, tempting ass.

“He’s gorgeous,” Peter murmured, leaning against Chris. “I think we deserve a treat, husband. It’s our anniversary, we should indulge a little. He’s wicked and funny.”

Chris sighed, unable to argue with his wolf. The boy’s sharp sarcasm went so well with Peter, the two could trade barbs back and forth endlessly. Chris would sit at the breakfast table, drinking coffee and just watching them fondly. He preferred slow mornings, quiet mornings. Peter’s mind was online right away and he wanted to argue, lived to argue. Stiles seemed to be the same. Noah had heaved an exasperated sigh on the first morning, muttering ‘Great, now there’s two of them’.

“He’s the owner’s grandson,” Chris pointed out. “Mieszko has a shotgun. And a rifle. And a hand-gun. And him and Stiles’ father have already pointed out that they know how to make bodies disappear. Think they won’t make us disappear if we come onto Stiles?”

He’d turned toward his mate, raising his eyebrows at Peter. Peter looked unaffected. Someone on Chris’ other side laughed, a chiming, delighted sound. When the husbands turned toward the person, they saw a young redheaded woman in a flowing black dress, grinning. Her pale skin was splashed with freckles, she was a total contrast to her partner next to her. A tall, dark-skinned woman with countless tight braids, blue, pink and purple braided into her black hair had an arm wrapped around the petite redhead and where the first girl wore an elegant dress, this one wore jeans, flannel and high boots caked in some mud.

“I’ve seen you before,” Peter narrowed his eyes thoughtfully.

“Ryan Nelson,” Ryan grinned, showing some fang at him. “And that’s my better half, Lily.”

Ryan Nelson. The daughter of the local Alpha. Lily smiled brightly and wiggled her fingers at them.

“I’m also Stiles’ best friend. And let me tell you, the threat of his dad and grandpa objecting to something usually just makes him want it more,” Lily winked at them and then dragged her eyes over them. “And oh boy, he’d always been weak for a hot DILF. Two for one?”

She grinned impishly while Chris felt a little flustered. The guy on Ryan’s other side snorted and took a drink from his coke. Before Chris and Peter had a chance to react otherwise did the Gajos cousins rejoin them. Stiles was breathless and flushed with laughter, looking absolutely stunning. Mags gave him a push and then rounded Ryan and Lily to reach the other guy.

“He—ey, babe, you came,” Mags grinned and kissed him.

“DJ. Member of the Nelson Pack,” Stiles offered. “Also the guy crazy enough to date my cousin.”

While still kissing DJ, Mags flipped Stiles off. Chris smiled fondly at them and shook his head. Stiles squeezed in between Chris and Lily, hip-checking the redhead and stealing her drink.

“Rude,” Lily glowered at him. “Watch it or I’ll hex you.”

“I’d like to see you try,” Stiles grinned sharply at him.

“Yeah, Stiles had figured out wards and protections against your magic when he was like ten,” Mags commented with a snort. “You know he can hand you your ass with his eyes closed.”

“Lies and slander,” Lily hissed, just to be kissed on the cheek by Ryan.

“Babe. You’re my badass future Emissary. We will just ship Stiles off to… I don’t know where yet,” Ryan shot Stiles a playful grin.

“Somewhere sunny, please. With a forest,” Stiles requested with a grin of his own. “And hey. No hard feelings. Not everyone can be as talented as me. Some have to be ordinary to make others shine.”

When he took a step back to order, he stumbled over a tree root – in the middle of the bar. Lily shot him an innocent smile and offered him a hand where he was laying sprawled out on the floor. He glowered at her and the root suddenly grew, twisting around her ankle and forcibly bringing her down next to him. She huffed indignantly and straightened her dress.

“Children, play fair,” DJ requested annoyed. “I swear, if we don’t get kicked out for wolf roughhousing, we get kicked out for magic shenanigans. I want to spend just one full night somewhere without trouble.”

“You need to find different friends for that,” Ryan commented dryly.

Chris was still hung up on the part where Stiles apparently had magic. That at least explained how he could tell that Peter was an Alpha werewolf. There were magic users with a keen sense for the magic within others, much more in tune with nature that way. Though it didn’t explain why he had known that Chris was a hunter. Hunters weren’t inherently magic.

“I’m going to figure you out before we leave,” Chris muttered softly when Stiles sat down again.

Stiles turned to him surprised, before a pleased and near teasing grin spread over his lips. “Yeah, I would like to see you try. If you do, maybe you’ll get a special reward.”

He winked and Chris couldn’t help the faint flush at it. Peter next to him growled pleased.

/break\

“A Spark,” Peter barked out. “You’re a Spark.”

He grabbed Stiles around the waist and quickly hoisted him up. The boy was limping with his twisted ankle. His eyes were glowing a bright teal as he channeled his magic deeply. A Spark. For the past two weeks, since that night at the bar, had Chris and Peter been trying to figure out what exactly Stiles was. Peter observed him with his friends – Lily, the Emissary in training who seemed to have a similar magical inclination as Stiles, and the three werewolves, Mags, DJ and Ryan. There was something so natural in the way Stiles ran with wolves that really pleased Peter.

“Ye—ep,” Stiles yelped back. “Less bafflement, more running, please.”

There was a manticore hunting them, roaring and lashing. Damn beast, mighty as a lion and with its claws to match, with wings that had it airborne, a stinger like a scorpion lashing at them. Stiles had gotten injured trying to get out of the stinger’s way. This was not the only manticore. Apparently, a whole herd of ten of them had decided to invade the ranch. Last Peter had seen Chris, he had carried Mirka to safety while shooting at one of the beasts, the girl crying as she bled profoundly.

“What can you do?” Peter asked urgently when he slid into a tight cave.

The one upside was that the manticores were huge. So maybe this could at least buy them some time to regroup for now. And for Peter to check Stiles’ injuries. He put the boy down deeper in the cave where it was a little more spacious. Carefully, he rolled up the torn jeans leg.

“Mother of all fucks,” Stiles moaned and leaned back. “Fuck.”

Peter frowned at the bleeding leg. The boy hadn’t just twisted his ankle, he had been swiped at by the beast. Peter had been so distracted by the very foul scent of the manticore, he hadn’t noticed the scent of blood coming from the boy. Wrapping his fingers around Stiles’ calf, he drained his pain until Stiles sank back down with a heavy, relieved sigh.

“I can… I’m not sure,” Stiles admitted. “I’m good with nature. But I prefer a gun for offense over my magic. And these things are big and fast. I think I can at least stop them from flying. Summon a storm that’ll force them to stay grounded. Now that the pain’s gone, I might be able to focus enough to use lightning against them? Lightning comes pretty easy to me.”

Peter hummed softly and kept draining Stiles’ pain. “A Spark.”

“You said that already,” Stiles grinned amused.

“Wait,” Peter tensed. “Does that mean the Nelson pack’s future Emissary…”

“Ye—ep,” Stiles shrugged. “We’re cut from the same cloth. Trained by the same Spark.”

Peter watched the boy curiously. Over the past weeks, they had heard about many of the teens’ adventures. Stiles was inherently protective of the land, as any Spark would be. But if Lily was also a Spark… Peter was a bit confused. Generally, only one family guarded a territory, and there was only ever one Spark born into every generation of it.

“Lily is the rightful Spark of these lands,” Stiles admitted when he noticed Peter’s gaze, drawing his legs up to his chest with a frown. “I do my best, but it’s… The land doesn’t answer me as naturally as it… would if it were mine. There’s a disconnect. I love it here, I love my family deeply, but… at the heart of it, I am an uprooted Spark taken from his land.”

There was something to Stiles’ voice that made Peter feel as though he had never actually admitted that aloud to anyone. Not even his family. The connection to the land was an important one to a Spark. Peter made a mental note to find out where Stiles’ family had put roots. It mattered where a Spark was born, first took root, so to speak. Peter tried to contain his wolf, who was rumbling in excitement at the powerful creature next to him.

“How are you feeling?” Peter asked while wrapping Stiles’ injured leg in stripes torn from his shirt.

“I’m good,” Stiles nodded sharply and flexed his hand. “Yeah. Okay. Let’s to this. I want these beasts off our ranch before any of my family can get seriously hurt.”

Peter smiled and wrapped an arm around Stiles’ waist to help him up and steady him. “Okay, sweetheart. Let’s go. I’ll have your back, make sure it can’t hurt you, while you do your thing.”

Stiles grinned sharply at him. “I’m trusting you on it, Alpha.”

Peter shuddered at the thrill it send through him to have Stiles call him that. It felt inherently right. And that was a concerning and confusing thought to have for him.

/break\

So Stiles was a Spark. A damn powerful one, if he had been able to sense the magic that Chris had been in contact with – which was how he had figured out Chris was a hunter. Or so Stiles had said. That he could sense the magic Chris had interacted with as a hunter. The creatures he killed. The wolves he ran with (though he hadn’t been able to tell that Chris ran with them and didn’t hunt them). Chris turned to watch the boy. They were having a bonfire, celebrating the fact that they had chased the manticores off the land. Chris had carried Mirka into the main house and been able to warn the rest of the family, with Mieszko immediately calling Alpha Nelson as backup. Now they all sat together and celebrated with barbecue – the Gajos family, the Nelson Pack, Chris and Peter.

“You figured it out,” Stiles whispered with a grin, his eyes sparkling.

“Well, your glowing eyes gave it away,” Peter commented.

Stiles rolled his eyes at that. “Yeah, well, I wasn’t going to let the manticore eat you. It’s bad for business if our tourists get eaten by giant half-lions, you know.”

“Of course,” Peter smiled bemused, before he sobered up some. “Thank you, for the safe.”

“Thank you for the safe,” Stiles bumped shoulders with Peter. “You were pretty good backup.”

This wasn’t good. Chris took a deep drink from his beer and then startled when Stan handed him a plate with a steak on it. The man’s dark eyes bore into Chris, like he could tell that Chris was having unsavory thoughts about his nephew. Chris took another drink from his beer.

/break\

Stiles stretched languidly. They’d been at the bar again last night and this time, he had even gotten Peter and Chris to dance with them. They were a little clumsy about it, but it was cute. Stiles had never spent that much of his free time with guests before. Not even with the ones he hooked up with. Which, he supposed, he had now rectified. He turned onto his side and rested his cheek on Chris’ broad chest, his fingers carding through silver chest-hair. On Chris’ other side, with his head pillowed on Chris’ shoulder, was Peter. All three of them were naked.

“Morning,” Stiles whispered softly when Peter opened his eyes.

There had been some alcohol. Not a lot, but enough to lower inhibitions. Dancing and laughing, the kind that made Stiles feel like he could fly. And then they were dancing with each other, Stiles with Chris, just to be twirled around by Peter, until in the end he was between them. And then there was kissing. Oh god, the kissing. The kissing was so good. And there was a lot of it.

“Your father, grandfather and uncle are going to shoot us,” Chris commented dryly.

“I’m nineteen,” Stiles huffed amused. “Nothing they can do about me making my own choices. And besides, you should worry so much more about grandma than them. Inciting a Spark’s wrath is much more dangerous than a grumpy cowboy, you know.”

Both men tensed and Stiles laughed brightly at that before leaning over and kissing first Chris and then Peter. They were so handsome and Stiles could really get used to this view of them in bed together. He’d had his eye on them since they arrived, but somehow, over the summer, they had become much more than pretty eye-candy. He liked them. Genuinely liked them. And that was going to be a real problem on the long run, because they were going to leave again.

Oh well, that was future Stiles’ problem. Present Stiles had hopes for another round.

/break\

Stiles was from Beacon Hills. That was a realization that slammed into Peter hard. He sat stunned on the porch, watching Stiles, Mags and Mirka riding off together. Peter had asked Boyd, Lydia and Kira to do some research into the Gajos family – after the confirmation that Stiles’ Spark came from his grandmother, Peter asked them to look into her side of the family specifically. Apparently, Stan’s sister Claudia had moved to Beacon Hills and married Noah. Stiles had been born in Beacon Hills.

“You know,” Gosia commented curiously as she sat down next to him. “You look shocked.”

“I… Yeah,” Peter cleared his throat.

“You shouldn’t be,” Gosia tilted her head. “Beacon Hills itself has ranches. There are many, many ranches that would have been closer than Texas. Something drew you here. He drew you here.”

Peter stared at the woman wide-eyed, but she just smiled at him knowingly. Was that it? Sure, he had felt drawn to the boy since they had gotten here, but… The smile on Gosia’s lips turned sad, her honey-eyes turning toward the distance, watching her grandchildren.

“I love him dearly,” Gosia whispered. “He is… He is the best of both his parents, you know. He has Noah’s inquisitive and deductive mind, his strong protector nature, but he also has Claudia’s mischief, magic and nurturing nature. He is… He is a good boy. I’m glad I had the chance to train him, to teach him about his Spark. But he was never meant to stay here.”

“His mother moved,” Peter pointed out. “She had been here, this was her land.”

Gosia shook her head. “Claudia’s Spark had always been weak. She wasn’t as affected by moving. But Stiles’ Spark is strong, stronger than any I have ever met. The older he gets, the stronger the call from his Nemeton will be. He has to return home at one point. And when he does, all I’m asking of you is to keep him safe and happy. Can you do that for me, Alpha Hale?”

She turned to look at him and the honey-whiskey of her eyes glowed a gentle teal for a moment. Peter swallowed hard at the intensity and the weight of her gaze and words, but he nodded. She smiled gently, pleased by his reassurance and got up again.

/break\

“You guys are really hot but I’m not just… overthrowing my life plans for you,” Stiles declared. “Like, you do realize that, right? I’m starting college at the university of Austin soon.”

He was sitting on the bed in nothing but his cowboy hat. It was wildly distracting. Chris had a hard time focusing on his words, because Chris’ eyes and mind were drawn to the marks littering Stiles’ torso, that Chris and Peter had left there in the past few days – the boy bruised like a peach and it was too much fun to suck and bite marks onto him, watch them change colors and slowly fade, just to reapply new ones. Peter elbowed Chris, drawing him out of his distracted thoughts.

“We never asked that of you,” Chris pointed out.

“I know who you are. I know where you’re from,” Stiles pointed out. “The Hale Alpha without an Emissary just happens to end up at the farm where the Beacon County Spark lives. C’mon.”

“We didn’t know about you when we came here, sweetheart,” Peter reached out to take Stiles’ hand, interlacing their fingers. “We didn’t come here to get you. But I have to admit that… now that we are here and now that I had you, I… would like to keep you.”

A blush dusted Stiles’ cheeks at those words. Chris found it enchanting. He cupped the boy’s red cheek and brought him in for a slow, deep kiss. He pulled Stiles closer, until the Spark was sitting in his lap. Chris had found that he really liked Stiles there. Biting his lip, Stiles rested his hands on Chris’ chest, looking at the hunter with hooded eyes.

“I just… what is this?” Stiles asked softly. “You guys are married, you’re going to leave soon, back to your pack and family. And I’m… starting college. Here. In Texas. But I… feel this pull between us and I want to be with you, but I don’t know if I have a place there.”

“You do,” Chris declared, more forceful than expected. “You have a place with us. We aren’t here to uproot your life, we’re not forcing you to make a choice. But if you do choose… We’re an option. It’s your choice and we are an option. If you want us.”

“Oh god, so much,” Stiles groaned and buried his face in Chris’ neck. “I didn’t even know that it was possible to physically want someone that much.”

Chris smiled softly and smoothed Stiles’ hair down, before kissing his temple. Peter lounged comfortably next to them, watching them with soft, loving eyes. They were both so gone on this boy, it was ridiculous. Chris didn’t know what either of them would do if Stiles just… stayed here and stopped being a part of their lives. But they also knew that they couldn’t ask Stiles to change his plans like that. This was where his family lived, where he planned on going to college.

“Texas isn’t that far away,” Peter murmured softly, resting a hand on Stiles’ bare thigh to rub. “We’re just a short flight away. We could visit you on the weekend, or fly you out-”

“Right, that’s super not in the budget,” Stiles snorted.

“It’s in the Hale budget,” Peter assured Stiles, giving his thigh a squeeze. “I want you, sweetheart. I want to see where this between us could go. No uprooting. But… we could still see if there is something, something substantial. You focus on your studies and education, we’re your weekend treat to look forward to. And you visit us and… see how you are connecting with the lands.”

“Okay,” Stiles’ voice was small but hopeful. “I… I think I’d like that.”

/break\

Noah didn’t like this one bit. Chris and Peter were good men, but they were still men. Twice the age of Noah’s son! And married. How could Stiles possibly be more than a midlife crisis adventure to them? There wasn’t a future there – and that was all Noah wanted for his son. A future. Happiness, love, a family. The fact that they came from Beacon Hills didn’t help. It felt like an itch, the wound left by this town, the loss, all bubbling up again.

The night Stiles told him and the family that he was going to try a long-distance relationship with Chris and Peter to see where things could go, with a potential of moving back to Beacon Hills after graduating college – and how was his son so optimistically thinking that far ahead already, how has these men wrapped him around their fingers like that so quickly – was the first night in years that Noah found himself sitting in front of a filled glass of whiskey at a bar again. Just staring into it, seeing Stiles’ eyes and Claudia’s eyes in the deep, rich color. Remembering all the pain.

“You shouldn’t drink that, sheriff.”

Noah looked up and met Ryan’s eyes. The young wolf had a heavy gaze, her dark eyes glowing golden for just a moment as her wolf shone through. She was twisting three of her braids into a thicker braid – one blue, one pink, one purple. It was a habit, to keep her hands busy. Noah knew that. He also knew those colors were the bi flag; things he’d learned when reading up on all that rainbow stuff after Stiles came out as bisexual to him.

“You’re right,” Noah sighed and pushed the glass away some. “It’s just…”

“A lot,” Ryan shrugged. “Lily threw a fit, you know. In her world, her and Stiles are forever. The idea that he wants to leave for California again – that storm last night? That was her. Yeah.”

Noah huffed at that and shook his head. “There’s so much pain in Beacon Hills.”

“But not just pain,” Ryan pointed out. “There was a ton of good too, I know that. Stiles told us about his childhood. Before his mom got sick. And it’s his home land. Territory is important to wolves. It’s not just a place where we live, it’s a part of us, especially born wolves. Sparks aren’t all that different there. It’s what drew Lily and me together like that. I will be Alpha of these lands and she is their Spark. This is our land and that is – that is a connection I can’t even begin to explain to you. It’s the same for Stiles and Peter. They’re drawn together, and Stiles is drawn away to his lands. That’s not a bad thing. I know it feels bad, because it means Stiles will leave, will leave to a place where you both have been hurt, but… It’s not a bad thing.”

Noah looked up at her with a sad smile and rested a heavy hand on her shoulder. “I always liked you, kid. You have a good head on your shoulders. You’re gonna be a good Alpha one day.”

Ryan smiled at him at that. Noah hoped Peter was a good Alpha too. All Noah could do was hope.

/break\

College was simultaneously amazing and hell. Exams were torture. Living with Ryan, Lily and Mags was the best thing ever. Having long-distance boyfriends sucked because they were so far away and he couldn’t just crawl into bed with them when he felt like it, plus, they realistically couldn’t be there every weekend either because they were the Alpha Pair of their own territory and rudely enough, threats did not schedule their attacks according to date night plans. Also Stiles had obligations to come visit the ranch too, so only every second weekend was free for them anyway.

But he visited Beacon Hills, a lot. Countless times, over his Bachelor degree. He got to know Chris and Peter’s pack. Their daughters Allison – sunshine personified and a deadshot like her dad – and Malia – vicious and fierce and with a big heart under the rough exterior. Derek, who was a total Sourwolf but who also definitely had grown fond of Stiles by now. Cora and Jackson were harder nuts to crack, Jackson and Isaac were both kind of assholes, but of the two, Stiles was more partial to Isaac for now. But Stiles definitely got along well with Kira and Lydia, who shared many research sessions with him whenever Stiles was over while there was an active threat. Because he wasn’t just idly sitting by. His favorites were probably Boyd and Erica though, they were a total power couple and Erica was awesome and shared his interest in DC.

Or, to make it short: Stiles had accidentally grown very attached to Chris and Peter’s pack.

He had also grown attached to his lands. The first time he set foot in the preserve had eased something in his chest. Like he could breathe freely for the first time in years. The first time he ran through the preserve with the pack, hearing them howl beside him, felt like coming home.

By the time he graduated, he felt steeled in his resolve, and in his feelings. For Chris and Peter, but also for their pack and for his long-abandoned home. His Nemeton was calling to him. As much as it hurt to leave behind his friends, family and the Nelson Pack, he knew it was time to come home.

“What’s this?” Stiles asked confused when Chris handed him a paper back.

“...I made you lunch,” Chris looked a little flustered. “It’s your first day.”

Stiles burst into bright laughter and leaned in to kiss his lover. “It’s my first day working at the school library. Not my first day of school.”

“Don’t be mean to him, he’s been fretting,” Peter pointed out.

Chris shot him an irritated glare, which earned him another kiss from Stiles. He’d moved into the Hale House – a beautiful, modern and new mansion that Chris, Peter and their pack had built in the preserve, not a replica of the old Hale House – after graduation. And he got a job at the high school.

“I can’t believe I’m gonna be Giles,” Stiles whispered with an eager grin.

“You’re Stiles,” Cora commented blankly, eating her cereal.

“It’s like, Buffy the Vampire Slayer,” Erica argued and rolled her eyes. “The school librarian.”

“And that is why you are my favorite,” Stiles grinned at Erica.

Peter heaved a sigh while the majority of the pack dissolved into arguments about why they should be Stiles’ favorite actually. School librarian at the high school he’d never gotten to visit. Though there was apparently a Hale Vault beneath the school that still housed many secrets. Stiles was eager to crack it and explore it – yes, Peter had offered to take him, but where was the fun in that?

“Don’t forget to buy everything on the grocery list,” Stiles instructed, shooting Peter a look.

“Yes, dear,” Peter rolled his eyes and wrapped an arm around Stiles’ waist to draw him close. “We will cook a proper Polish feast for when your family comes visit on the weekend.”

“I still don’t get why we have to make the dumplings now and freeze them. Instead of just making them fresh and eating them then,” Isaac complained with a frown.

Stiles opted to ignore him and instead kissed both Chris and Peter again before rushing out and climbing into Roscoe to drive to school. He’d been told a Coach Finstock was going to give him the grant tour and he didn’t want to be late. This was the start of something great, he could feel it.

~*~ The End ~*~