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Maeve generally did her best not to eavesdrop on her customers, but as a werewolf it was harder than one might expect. Chris Argent's meeting in booth three with some kind of knife manufacturer would theoretically be exactly the kind of danger she was on the lookout for, but since he had married Peter Hale and given up Hunting, it seemed to be legitimate Argent Arms business. Still not a riveting or relaxing conversation, but not the kind of thing she needed to report to Satomi as a potential danger.
Argent apologetically excusing himself from his associate and moving closer to her counter was unusual, but his phone had chimed with an incoming text a dozen times in the last few minutes, so it wasn't entirely unexpected.
"What, Peter?" Argent asked tiredly.
"They've found our third!" Peter said excitedly, and Maeve couldn't help but perk up her metaphorical ears. Anyone who spent time around the pair knew they were both doms — Peter might play at being a switch, but he'd never stand subbing full time — and they wore the wristbands to prove it. Their soulmarks were common knowledge, given that they'd subsequently kicked off and then ended the last generation of Hale-Argent feud. Which meant everyone knew they must be waiting on a third — a sub.
"What are you talking about?" Argent sounded more alert, but wary.
"I just got the email notification," Peter said. "The registry has officially found our sub and is alerting us. We're to go in at our earliest convenience to have our marks confirmed, and then we'll be given their file. You are delaying our earliest convenience."
"I'm sorry that my work is coming between you and knowing their identity twenty minutes faster," Argent said dryly.
"As you should be," Peter snipped.
"So why don't you come down and meet me at Florence's; then we'll be able to go together?"
Peter's only reply was to hang up, but Argent just chuckled and returned to his business partner with a quick, "sorry about that. Now, back to business."
Meanwhile, Maeve's mind was spinning. It wasn't like Stiles was the only kid in the world who turned 16 today. Over 350,000 people registered every day, according to the statistics that Stiles had rattled off during his last shift. And it wasn't a guarantee that Argent and Peter's third would be a sixteen year old — especially given their own ages. Soulmate marks had been known to change occasionally, usually due to trauma or the death of their mate before bonding, according to Stiles.
That was why the registry always made new soulmate matches come in and confirm that their marks hadn't changed before turning over the information.
Furthermore, some societies refused to register their children, and it wasn't until they got older and fled to another country that they could be documented. Some families simply chose to wait until their child had finished college or learned a trade before allowing them to register, afraid that they wouldn't do so if they found a match quickly. Stiles had been sharing all of this information for a month, in between desperately hoping that his match would already be in the system and panicking that he'd never get a soulmark at all, so Maeve knew more than she ever wanted to about the process.
So there was absolutely no reason for Maeve to think that, just because Argent and Peter had just gotten their notification, and Stiles was going to be going to the registry during his lunch period today, that their third was Stiles.
Speak of the devil, Maeve knew that clunker and racing heartbeat. One that was supposed to be going right back to school after registering, not skipping his afternoon classes to come in to work early.
"Maeve!" Stiles burst into the diner. "Maeve, I got my match already! There's two of them: a dom and a switch. And one's a werewolf. Normally I wouldn't get any details, but they had to ask me if I was okay with a supernatural partner before they sent out the notifications. I guess they aren't necessarily a werewolf, since she didn't specify, but werewolves do make up 69% — nice — of the supernatural population so the odds are good that—"
"Breathe, Sugar," Maeve said, clapping her hands down on his shoulders gently. Stiles instantly stilled beneath her, and nuzzled her hand softly. "Now why don't you perch on up here at the counter, and I'll get you a peanut butter milkshake to celebrate the fact that you didn't have to wait to find your match, hmmm?"
"Sounds great!" Stiles gave her a pair of finger guns, the way she'd eventually convinced him not to do with customers, and then slid into the endmost barstool.
Maeve looked across the diner and found Argent staring at Stiles. She cleared her throat, catching his attention. As soon as she had it, she jerked her head at Stiles and gave him an approving smile. Argent startled, but nodded, then quickly said goodbye to his associate, who smelled amused at the turn of events.
Normally Maeve wouldn't encourage them to talk to each other until the registry confirmed it, but she knew Peter Hale well enough to know that he wouldn't hurt the boy. They may not be in the same pack, since Maeve and Florie were in Satomi's, but everyone knew the Hales. Talia Hale was a legend, and after he'd nearly been burned alive protecting his family, so was Peter Hale. If he actually was one of Stiles's partners, he'd look after the boy, and with Argent as his spouse the same was likely true of him.
Argent walked up to the counter, and Maeve saw he had switched which wrist he wore his band on, now clearly displaying the soulmark on the back of his hand. From this distance it looked identical to the one on Stiles's arm, which he'd proudly shown off this morning before darting off to school. She nodded again.
"Excuse the interruption, but I couldn't help but overhear," Argent said, coming up to Stiles. "I believe you've waited on my husband and me a few times?"
Stiles swung around on the barstool to face him and then nodded almost immediately. "Yup, Chris Argent and Peter Hale."
Argent — she was probably going to have to think of him as Chris now, wasn't she, if he was going to court her Stiles — raised one brow.
Stiles scoffed. "Sheriff's kid, my dude. I know all about that whole," he flailed his hand around to encompass Chris and half the room, "thing." Maeve delivered his milkshake with a smirk, and Stiles took a big slurp. "Plus, you know, I make a point of remembering the big tippers."
Chris gave him a small smile. "Glad to know we made an impression for more than that whole thing." Which was a very polite way of saying that his sister went crazy and tried to murder all the Hales in their beds, and Chris had been forced to kill her to save his newly discovered soulmate. The Hale house had had to be rebuilt, but Chris had been able to break the mountain ash barrier around it, so all of the Hales had survived. And with his pack around him, it had only taken Peter a few months to heal from the horrific burns that would have killed a human.
Stiles flushed, but thankfully Chris didn't appear upset. "So what's up, dude?"
"This," Chris said simply, holding out his hand.
Stiles glanced down, then did a double take and nearly fell off the barstool. "Holy shit!"
"Stiles," Maeve sighed. "Not around the customers." It was otherwise a lost cause to reign in his swearing, and she wasn't his parent, so she generally let it go.
Chris chuckled. "That's alright, Maeve; I think I thought the exact same thing."
Stiles ripped off his hoodie, tossing it onto the counter — Maeve saved his milkshake from going flying — and thrust his arm out next to Chris's. Side by side, it was impossible to deny that they were identical, the wavy lines spiralling around a simple triangular starburst. "Oh my god," Stiles breathed quietly. "It is you."
"Me and Peter," Chris confirmed.
"Right," Stiles jerked his head in a nod that moved half his body.
"Would you like to have dinner with us tonight?" Chris asked. "Unless of course you're working?"
"Take the day off, kiddo," Maeve said instantly. "Celebrate."
Stiles nodded again. "Um, we could meet at my house? My dad's off by 6, and I could maybe cook for you?"
"That sounds lovely, Stiles," Chris said warmly. Maeve detected no lie in his heartbeat.
They exchanged phone numbers, and Stiles texted Chris his address, double checking that it had gone through properly.
"Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go save my husband from taking on the entire registry office single handedly," Chris teased.
"Y— yeah, no problem," Stiles agreed quickly. "See you tonight."
"See you tonight, Baby," Chris replied, and then he was out the door while Stiles tried to simultaneously flail with glee and melt into a puddle in the middle of her diner.
"Breathe, Sugar," Maeve reminded him, handing over his milkshake again. Stiles took a deep breath, and then an even deeper sip, and the cold seemed to help ground him. It certainly worked on her Florie when she got into a tizzy about the diner.
Stiles gave her an unexpected, but welcome, hug. "Thanks for helping me out," he murmured into her shoulder. "And for giving me the afternoon off."
Maeve grinned and squeezed him back. "You betcha, kiddo. Now get out of here and go on back to class. You'll have plenty of time this afternoon to whip up something that'll impress your two suitors."
His eyes lit up with an unholy glee, and Maeve knew that getting him back to school was a lost cause. Still, she wasn't his parent, and he was a good boy most of the time, so she let it slide as he raced out the door towards his poor clunker of a jeep.
As soon as he was in his truck, Chris called Peter. Before he could say a word, Peter was off.
"His profile makes no sense, Christopher. It says he's a sixteen year old male, but in the skills questionnaire he checked off basically all of the domestics. Cooking, cleaning, laundry, balancing a budget… he's got lawn care and gardening as well…"
"Peter, did you go to the registry without me?" Chris teased. He really should have known that would happen.
"Of course I did. You were taking too long," Peter snarked. "Now, he's also listed customer service, so I was thinking that maybe his family owns a restaurant or cleaning service and he's worked for them? But then in the next section, he apparently listed research and technical writing skills? Experience in a police station, self defense, firearm handling… there's no way this can be a sixteen year old!"
"I met him," Chris finally said when Peter took a breath.
"I beg your pardon?"
"I met him in the diner; he's served us before, though I didn't realize he wasn't sixteen yet. He's the Sheriff's kid, which is probably how he filled in the law enforcement section," Chris explained. "We're invited to dinner with him and the Sheriff tonight at 6."
"Don't you have to be sixteen to get a job?" Peter asked. "I mean, legally?"
"You can do it at 14 if you have parental permission," Chris pointed out. He should know; he was learning the family trade at eight.
"Right, dinner at six o'clock it is," Peter declared.
Chris and Peter pulled up to the Stilinski house just before six, as planned. The Sheriff's cruiser wasn't in sight, but Chris assumed he was just running late. "Should we wait?"
"Until he arrives? You want us to sit out here in the car waiting when we could be in there wooing our soulmate?" Peter asked him incredulously.
"Of course, how silly of me to wait until the Sheriff got home instead of being alone with his sixteen year old son," Chris muttered.
Peter just scoffed and slid out of the car — he'd insisted on driving his Shelby — and Chris had to hurry to make it to the door before he knocked.
Stiles opened the door a little too quickly, like he'd been watching out the window, and Chris was a little relieved that Peter had barged in. Though he'd probably heard how close Stiles was, which was why he had gone ahead.
"Hello Sweetheart," Peter said gleefully as Stiles looked them up and down appreciatively. "I'm Peter, the handsome half. Aren't you just a delectable little morsel?"
Stiles flushed bright red, dropping his gaze easily. Chris was struck with the urge to drop him into subspace, to see how beautifully he blushed and submitted. He'd seen Maeve calm him down at the diner, and knew he was primed and panting for someone to take him in hand.
"Please come in," Stiles managed to say, backing away from the door. "I'm afraid my dad isn't home yet, but I can get you a drink to get started?"
"Water would be wonderful, thank you," Chris said, nudging Peter inside. "It's nice to see you again, Stiles."
"You too," Stiles said, grinning. Chris didn't have to be a wolf to know that he liked what he saw of them.
Stiles waved them into the living room as he headed through it towards the kitchen, where whatever he was cooking smelled delicious indeed. He'd texted earlier to ask if either of them had any allergies — Peter had been less than amused with Chris's reply of 'wolfsbane' — and Chris was looking forward to seeing what he'd whipped up.
A minute later, Stiles emerged from the kitchen with two glasses of water and handed one to each of them. Then he fluttered awkwardly between the two armchairs until Peter said, "Please, darling, sit down. Let's get to know each other."
Stiles took the chair that appeared less used — clearly the other was intended for his father — and clasped his hands together between his knees. "What would you like to know?"
"Well, we can start with the boring things, like how you're doing in school," Peter teased.
Stiles grinned. "I'm doing good, actually. I'm in AP Chemistry, Pre-Calculus, English Literature, and US History, and I'm taking AP Psych online, since BHHS doesn't offer it. Last year I took AP Biology, Statistics, World History, European History, and English Language. And Art History over the summer. I got straight 4s and 5s, so I'm on track to be a National AP Scholar if I do the same this year."
"I didn't even know BHHS offered so many AP classes," Peter said appreciatively.
Chris hadn't known it either. "What's a National AP Scholar?"
"Someone who gets 4s or better on 8 or more AP tests," Stiles said easily. Lydia Martin and I are both on track to make it this year, and we've got a friendly rivalry to see who actually comes out with a higher average."
"It sounds like you're incredibly smart," Chris said wonderingly. "I'm surprised you haven't skipped a grade."
Stiles shrugged. "They suggested it, but I wanted the full four years in high school."
"Wanted to stay with your friends?" Peter asked.
"No. AP tests cost less than taking actual college credits. If I complete everything as scheduled, I'll have completed an entire year of college early. Plus there are some scholarships offered to National AP Scholars, which should help me pay for the rest. If not, I'll take a year at the community college to finish off my gen ed requirements."
Chris glanced at Peter, and saw the same expression on his face. No sixteen year old should be working that hard and shouldering that much responsibility because of finances. Not when they could ease his burden without making a dent in either the Hale or Argent fortunes.
"I can't believe you find time to study for all those classes while also working at the diner," Peter said calmly.
"It's just weekends and summers," Stiles shrugged. "I also— maybe I shouldn't mention it."
"Oh, do mention it," Peter said salaciously.
"It isn't like that," Stiles protested, though a smirk teased around the edge of his lips. "I just… I make some extra gas money during the year by selling papers. They're clearly marked as examples, so no one can fault me if someone copies them and turns them in, but… yeah."
"Our ingenious little mate," Peter all but purred. "We're going to get along splendidly, I can tell." Leaving Chris as the voice of reason, as usual.
A timer went off in the kitchen, and Stiles leaped up to take care of it. While he was gone, Chris took the opportunity to look around. The home was simple and well cared for, but there were subtle signs that not all was well. Every picture seemed to end when Stiles was seven or eight, with nothing taken when he was older. There was a fully stocked liquor cabinet in the corner, and a recently emptied trash can sitting beside it, if the half-placed bag was any indication.
There was also the fact that it was now twenty past, and the Sheriff was nowhere to be seen.
Chris had a sneaking suspicion that Stiles was doing all the chores around the house, in addition to his heavy school schedule and working part time. It would certainly explain how filled in his questionnaire had been. But it also meant that Stiles barely had time to be a kid, let alone a sub. He probably hadn't been in subspace in months. It wasn't good for doms or subs to be denied that way; it led to consequences for the mind and body. Chris and Peter were going to need to take Stiles in hand soon, but first, then needed to take a bunch of other things off his plate.
Looking at his husband, Chris saw he was in perfect agreement; their little sub needed someone to start looking out for him, since it seemed like no one else was going to do the job.
"Dinner's ready!" Stiles called out from the kitchen, and Chris obligingly collected his water and headed in that direction. Beside him, Peter did the same.
As soon as they reached the room, Chris was struck by the mouthwatering smells he'd ignored earlier in favor of his inspection. "It all smells delicious, baby boy," he said appreciatively, making Stiles flush with pride.
"Why don't you tell us what you made," Peter suggested.
"Okay. I don't know if you've ever had Polish food before, but this is Golabki, or cabbage rolls. My mom taught me how to make them when I was little. Then there's placki ziemniaczane, or potato pancakes, on the side, and wuzetka cake for dessert."
"Oh, and the bread rolls are from the same bakery that the diner uses. I'm learning how to make them myself, but so far my results have been either rocks or glue, so…" he shrugged self deprecatingly.
"I'm sure you'll master it in no time," Chris reassured him. "It all looks wonderful."
"So, will your father be joining us?" Peter asked, and Chris was struck with the urge to stomp on his foot.
Stiles froze, then looked at the clock on the microwave. "He's probably caught up in paperwork; I should call the station and remind him what time it is." Chris didn't have to see the slight tightening of the corners of Peter's mouth to know that Stiles's scent had probably shifted away from his earlier happiness, and the urge to stomp on his husband's foot only grew. They weren't here to make Stiles feel bad, especially about things he couldn't control.
Stiles pulled his phone out of his pocket and placed a quick call, walking into the living room as he softly greeted someone called Tara. It was clear the moment that his face fell, before he put on a happy mask again, and Chris glanced down when Stiles turned to check on them. He'd give the boy what privacy he could, given that Peter could hear every word.
A moment later, Stiles came back into the kitchen. "So it turns out there's big things afoot down at the station, and he can't get away," Stiles said brightly, and Chris didn't need to hear his heartbeat to know the boy was lying. "Obviously we can still eat dinner together tonight, it just means that the awkward conversation about my dad's guns will have to be put off until next time."
Thankfully, Peter didn't call him out on the lie, but instead smirked and said, "Oh, I don't mind putting off that conversation at all, sweetheart."
Stiles blushed prettily. "Well, dig in!"
The food was delicious, and both men didn't hesitate in telling Stiles so. He got adorably awkward with each compliment, clearly not used to hearing them. Chris resolved to compliment him every day until he no longer flailed in surprise at receiving one.
As they ate they continued getting to know each other. Peter talked about his job as a lawyer, and briefly touched upon his relationship with his pack. Since things were a little strained with his sister at the moment — something Chris didn't want to touch with a ten foot pole — he kept the information surface level, but Stiles still soaked it up like a sponge.
Chris talked briefly about Argent Arms, which he had taken fully legitimate after his father ended up in jail for assisting in Kate's crimes (and committing more than enough of his own). That was also when they learned that Stiles had grown up at the Sheriff's station, hence the self defense and firearms training that had been listed on his questionnaire. Chris was relieved that the boy seemed to know what he was talking about, or Chris would have suggested some kind of defensive training of his own. You could never be too careful, after all.
It also turned out that, before he'd gotten the job at the diner last summer, he had worked at the station during the summers with his dad's permission. Filing paperwork and the like "so as not to be a bother."
Chris was tempted to tell Stiles that he could never be a bother, but he knew that was his infatuation talking. And worse, Stiles would know it too. No, it was better to save that kind of conversation until they knew each other better. Chris could already tell that the boy had trouble sitting still, and he had mentioned his ADHD — high protocol was not in their future — and he knew well enough that kids teased anyone who was different. And Stiles was definitely different.
Their conversation ranged through a variety of topics, and Stiles had plenty to say about the most obscure things.
"Did you know that the way it used to work was there was a registry in each country, and foreign soulmates were kind of just screwed. Things like NAFTA and the UK and the proto EU helped, but yeah. And the idea was you went in and registered your mark, and they made this big encyclopedia/phone book that had people sorted by increasingly narrow descriptions. So Nature: Flowers: Roses: Yellow: With stem and leaves. So you would go find your potential people, and then compare. No, I only have two leaves, not three. No, mine are arranged differently. No, mine is more of a bud than fully open. Etc. Now, of course, there's an electronic database."
That was followed a little while later by "Snow leopards, I swear, they carry their tails around in their mouths! Even the babies do it, and it's the cutest thing. And scientists have no idea why!"
Even their after dinner coffee came with a dose of information. "I have to drink tea this late at night — I can't have coffee after 4 pm unless I'm going to be staying up all night. Did you know that legend has it that this Chinese emperor, Shennong, was just drinking a cup of boiled water, and some leaves fell into it, and he just shrugged and was like, tastes good, and that's how we got tea? Oh, and, it can only actually be called tea if it contains leaves from one specific plant? Otherwise it's just an herbal beverage or something."
It was clear that knowledge was Stiles's passion, and Chris resolved not to forget that when they took the boy under their care. Restricting his access to reading materials might work as a better punishment than something like manual labor, though it also might backfire if that was part of how he sated his ADHD. They would need to learn what kind of things soothed his mind, what distracted him, what was a reward, and what was a punishment. Chris couldn't wait.
When the meal was over, Peter and Chris both thanked Stiles for the lovely evening. He and Peter traded phone numbers, since only Chris had done so before, and then both of them exchanged chaste goodnight kisses with their sub. After arranging to meet him for lunch on Saturday, before his evening shift at the diner, Chris finally tugged Peter out the door. Then — after giving Stiles a moment to gush over his car — Peter drove them back home.
As soon as the car had pulled away from the Stilinski house, Peter was raging quietly. "He runs that entire household, Christopher."
Chris sighed. "I know, Peter. I realized that too. At least now we know why his questionnaire was so detailed; he really does have all the experience he noted down, even at 16."
"He should be in college already, having fun and drinking with friends, not cramming in advanced classes in a desperate bid to save money while working himself to the bone," Peter growled. "He's not the damn adult in that relationship."
"I know," Chris sighed again. "He's clearly touch starved, and I don't know when the last time he was allowed to relax and drop into subspace was. We're going to need to handle him carefully until we figure out what he can tolerate. But he's got a lot of pride, Peter. I understand the kind of pressure that comes from having a father in law enforcement — or pseudo law enforcement — and the desire to prove to him that you aren't weak. You can't just storm in and rearrange his entire life without getting some pushback."
Peter scoffed, but he knew his husband was right. They were going to need to tread carefully to keep from upsetting their beautiful little sub while they gave him the life he deserved. Chris may have started working much younger than Peter, but the life of a Left Hand wasn't easy either, and he had begun his training as a teenager as well. It wasn't the kind of life he would wish on anyone as young as his sub.
"It explains the age gap, though," Chris mused. "He clearly hasn't been allowed to be a kid in nearly a decade — since his mom died, I'd wager — let alone a sub."
"He might not even know how to submit," Peter pointed out, quietly appalled at the thought. Chris made a strangled sound in reply.
Sometimes the only choice one had was to work through, never stopping to take a breath lest you be buried under the waiting avalanche. If Stiles had been living like that — and it seemed likely, at first glance — then he was going to fall hard before he could accept that they were there to hold back the tide for him.
As soon as they got home, Peter called one of his contacts to arrange a background check. He wanted to know everything he could about all three Stilinskis before they planned how to make their next move. He had no doubts that the Sheriff would be doing the same with them, as soon as he spoke to Stiles about it, so he felt no guilt at all.
He also looked through his library to find his books on soulmate law and dom/sub law. There was a good chance they were going to be taking custody of their underaged soulmate, and Peter wanted all of his legal ducks in a row before doing so. Especially when going up against law enforcement. It was clear from his stories of growing up at the station that Stiles had most of the deputies wrapped around his little finger; any one of them could throw a wrench in the works if they thought that Peter and Chris didn't have their sub's best interests at heart.
While he was doing that, he heard Chris leaving a message for their financial advisor, and he nodded approvingly. They were going to need to set up a college fund for their sub, after all. And a personal credit card wouldn't go amiss either, so he could stop worrying about selling papers for gas money.
Peter snorted. While their little sub was quite ingenious, it grated at both his dominant and his wolf instincts to let the boy live with that kind of insecurity. If he still wanted to write papers about snow leopards in his spare time, he could do that, but he shouldn't be working himself to the bone because of money. Not when Peter and Chris had the means to take care of him without pause.
Stiles flopped face down onto his bed and groaned. This was not how he had imagined meeting his soulmate — soulmates. Well, in some respects, it was exactly how it was supposed to go.
It was supposed to be someone his age, and only one person, but Stiles didn't have a problem with either of those things being different. Both Peter and Chris were hot like burning, and it made him feel all gooey inside when they called him sweetheart and baby.
Plus, Stiles had obviously known he was a sub long before his official designation, and he'd tried to imagine subbing for some of the kids around school. Lydia Martin was the only one he could imagine in the role of his dom, and even that was kind of hazy and based on her intelligence rather than the way she acted. He assumed that Jackson was a switch, with the way she dommed him, and the way he was an asshole to everyone else, but Stiles could never slot an imaginary sub into their relationship and make it make sense — even himself.
Scott might have been an option once upon a time. They had been best friends growing up, and if there was anyone Stiles was going to trust to dom him, it would have been his best friend. But that was in middle school. Freshman year had begun to break them apart when Stiles took a full load of AP courses. Scott was upset that Stiles wasn't in all the same classes as him, and ignored the very obvious logic that even if they were taking the same classes there was no guarantee they'd get the same periods together.
Then Scott had gotten put on a new, experimental, magical treatment for his asthma, and grew out of it completely. By the time the spring trimester rolled around, he was one of three freshmen on the first line lacrosse team, and hanging out with the jocks at lunch, leaving Stiles in the dust. Scott might have accused Stiles of breaking their friendship first, though he still made time for the other boy on the weekends, and helped him with his homework, but Scott had dropped him like a hot potato as soon as he had the chance.
(And what was with that phrase? Why hot potatoes specifically? Why not something else hot, like french fries, or pieces of bacon, or shotgun shells?)
Ahem.
Danny might have worked as a practice dom, but Stiles had never seen him act all that dominant or submissive — his assumption was also a switch in waiting — so Stiles just couldn't picture Danny taking on an authoritative role with him. Actually, that was true of most of his classmates. At this age, doms tended to be more bully or sports star than caring and trustworthy, like the stories and movies all made them seem. High schoolers were far more like the villainous doms of action movies than the sweet ones from romcoms.
Peter and Chris, however?
Oh Stiles could picture that. He could easily imagine himself sinking to his knees for them — despite how much trouble he had sitting still. It wouldn't end well, thanks to his fidgeting, but for once Stiles actually wanted it to. He wanted to feel Chris's calloused hand on the back of his neck, or smell Peter's mild cologne as he nuzzled into his neck. Stiles wanted desperately to sub for them, and that he hadn't expected.
But if the part Stiles had been the most nervous for was exceeding all his expectations, the part that he'd expected to go well was falling flat. His dad.
So far Stiles had eaten meals with Chris and Peter three times and his dad had missed all three of them. Then, tonight, when they'd come to pick him up for dinner, his dad had finally been home, but he'd started drinking immediately, before Stiles could even explain what had been happening.
By the time Stiles had gotten ready for his date, his dad was no longer fit for company, so Stiles snuck out the door to wait for them on the porch.
When they'd arrived, Chris had immediately said, "Ah, I see we have a chance to meet your father at last."
"Uh, no, sorry, he, uh, went back to work." Stiles had totally fumbled the lie, and Peter's pointed look at the cruiser spoke volumes. "Uh, a deputy picked him up. It was a very important… thing. We should go."
Peter had obviously known he was lying: even if he hadn't smelled or heard the lie on Stiles, his werewolfy senses had surely told him that Stiles's dad was inside, but thankfully they both let it go and simply took him out to dinner.
It had been wonderful, a new Moroccan fusion place over in Beacon City, and Stiles had quickly forgotten about his dad and just enjoyed himself. But of course, when Peter and Chris dropped him off at home — with goodnight kisses that were getting more heated the more they dated — the presence of the cruiser had reminded Stiles of his lies, and now it was all hanging over his head again.
He hadn't even gotten a chance to tell his dad about Peter and Chris! For all he knew, his dad hadn't even realized that his birthday had passed, and that he was eligible to add himself to the registry. He'd be hungover in the morning, and he'd told Stiles more than once that his voice was grating that early in the morning, so Stiles couldn't talk to him about it then.
This thing that was blooming between him, Chris, and Peter was so special, and Stiles wanted someone to share it with, but he didn't have anyone.
Well, that wasn't entirely true. He had Maeve and Florie at the diner. He could talk to them tomorrow during the slow part of his shift. Maybe talking it out with them would make him feel better about everything, like he had hoped talking to his dad would.
The sound of a bottle clinking as it was dropped came up the stairs, and Stiles buried his head under his pillow. He wasn't young enough to believe it would keep the bad things at bay anymore, but at least it could block out the sounds.
In truth, Stiles wasn't sure what he should do. On the one hand, he really should tell his dad that he was being courted by a dom and a switch. On the other hand, if his father never gave him a chance to do so, what was the harm? Was he supposed to burst into the station and interrupt his dad while he was working to tell him that he had a date and would like his father to be there? That was a fast ticket to a shouting match, in his experience.
And what if his dad forbade him from seeing Peter and Chris again? It would only work until he was eighteen, but even after just two weeks, Stiles couldn't imagine waiting two years to have this again. Dating Chris and Peter felt easy, comfortable, like he could just breathe in their presence.
Stiles didn't want to give that up.
Stiles wasn't stupid; he'd done his research for months before registering, and he'd done even more afterwards. He knew that adult doms and switches could gain custody of their sub as long as they were over sixteen. That meant that, legally, Peter and Chris were allowed to gain custody of Stiles.
But he had no idea if that was even something that they would want! He was a burden, he knew, with his ADHD and his inability to focus on one thing and his… everything. There was a reason that his dad spent all his time at work after all. There was a reason his mom had tried to get rid of him.
So no, Stiles didn't hold out hope that Peter and Chris would want to put up with him full time. He barely believed that they were willing to continue dating him, no matter how much they appeared to enjoy it each time.
Then there was the issue with his work and classes. Peter and Chris had made it clear that they thought Stiles was doing too much. But what choice did he have? Stiles had had a college fund once upon a time, but what little was left after his mom's medical bills had finally been paid off had long since been drunk away. If he didn't take all the APs he could, if he didn't ace his SAT one and twos, if he didn't get all the scholarships he could, then how else could he go to college?
Stiles had seen people who got stuck in Beacon Hills, going nowhere fast. Often they became the kind of person who the deputies picked up on drunk and disorderly charges where they swore at the unfairness of life as they were being locked up in the tank overnight.
Look, Stiles had spent a lot of time at the station when he was a kid; he saw things.
Stiles was not going to become one of those people who spent the weekend drinking away their regrets and fighting with someone else who was stuck in this town. He was going to college, and he was getting the hell out of here.
But what about Peter and Chris? They were here, weren't they? Could he really leave Beacon Hills behind, knowing that his soulmates were still here?
Stiles didn't want to.
In all honesty, he had expected his soulmate to be his age, from somewhere other than Beacon Hills. Somewhere better. Stiles thought he'd be able to meet them for college — maybe go to the same place — and strike out into the world together. He hadn't expected Peter and Chris.
But even after just a few dates, he couldn't imagine leaving them behind. Would they still want him to go to college, if he was already with them? Would they let him? Doms couldn't stop you from attending, officially, but unofficially it could still happen. Peter and Chris didn't seem like the kind to restrict him in that way, but what did he know? He'd only served them at the diner a few times, and then gone out to dinner with them a few more. It wasn't like Stiles actually knew them all that well.
They might want him to give up his job, too. Especially if they chose to get custody of him. But Stiles needed his job. Their budget was precarious at best — especially around the holidays and the anniversary of his mom's death, when his dad drank more. Without Stiles's contributions, he couldn't balance it enough to make everything work.
And if Chris and Peter did end up taking him away, then who would take care of his dad? His dad might be able to afford groceries without Stiles's income if Stiles was no longer eating there, but who would make him heart-healthy food? Who would clean and do the laundry and recycle the empty bottles? If Stiles was gone, his dad would be all alone.
He heard a muffled crash even through his pillow, and Stiles whimpered softly.
He didn't want to stay. He couldn't.
But he couldn't leave, either.
"And what did you expect your dad to do when you went away to college?" Maeve asked calmly.
Stiles had told her a bit — never the full truth, no one could know that — about his worries, and now he bit his lip and considered what she had said. What did he think would happen to his dad when he left for college?
Well that was easy enough to answer. "I hadn't thought about it."
"Sugar, your dad's an adult. And having your kids leave the nest happens to all parents. Whether he deals with you leaving in two years, or two months, or tomorrow, he'd still have to deal with it. And that's something that, as an adult, he knows. You can't hold yourself back forever, just for him, got it?"
"Got it, Maeve," Stiles tried to sound as firm as she did, and not like he was inches away from an anxiety attack. "But what about going to college? Peter and Chris are settled here, and they've got lives. Surely they won't want to follow me to some college town for three years. And they won't want to let a sub go all on his own."
"Obviously I can't speak for them, but Sugar, Peter went to college. And law school after that. I seem to remember Chris sticking around after high school, so he probably didn't go off to a four year place, but he's a mighty good businessman, so he's probably got some schooling in that area."
"He has an AA in business," Stiles said sheepishly, because he'd totally used his dad's password at work to run a preliminary background check on the both of them. "He went back to school for it after… after he took over the family business." After his father was locked up, Stiles managed not to say.
"And they both know that you plan to go to college, right? I'm sure you've mentioned it," Maeve said with a fond grin. Which was fair, because Stiles had announced his whole life's plan to her during his initial interview for the server position almost a year ago.
"I might have," he admitted.
"And they didn't say anything against you going then, did they?" Maeve pointed out. "So they're not going to suddenly rip the rug out from under you later. Not when they've both gone themselves. You're not going to be some poor helpless sub locked in a tower, Stiles." Maeve's grin turned sharper, showing just the hint of her fangs. "And if you are, I promise me and Florie will come bust you out ourselves."
Stiles couldn't help but giggle at that. The idea of Florie wielding her spatula or cooking spoon at an armored Chris the way she wielded them in the back kitchen was hilarious.
"And you really think they'll want me to go with them now? I mean that they'll want custody?" Maeve had seemed sure of it when he'd mentioned it before, which was how they'd gotten onto the topic of leaving his dad behind, but Stiles just couldn't see it.
"Stiles, you're young, so you don't know what it's like to be missing your partner for years," Maeve said seriously. Stiles knew there was a few years age difference between her and Florie, but hadn't really thought about it before, since he'd always assumed his soulmate would be about his age.
"And I know you've studied everything there was to know about doms, subs, and switches, and soulmates, so let me remind you that all two person pairings are either dom/sub or switch/switch. There is no such thing as a two person dom/switch or switch/sub pair; they'll always have a third soulmate. Do you remember why?"
"Switches can experience both subspace and domspace, but they need both to thrive. If a switch is forced to only dom or only sub for long periods of time, their body can go into shock from not getting the other kind of hormones," Stiles parroted easily. "Oh."
"Without knowing a thing about their relationship, anyone could tell you that those two must be desperate to get their sub at last, Sugar. Only a fool would let go of someone they've been waiting for that long. You're the part that's meant to complete them, and if they've any sense at all, they'll grab on with both hands — or all four — and never let you go."
Stiles felt a warm fuzzy feeling bloom in his chest at that confirmation that they must actually want him, despite his… everything.
"That's better." Maeve chucked him under his chin. "Now Sugar, go clean your face off, then come back out here and finish your milkshake before your shift starts," she ordered gently.
Stiles didn't mind it when Maeve gave him orders. She never used a dom voice for them, and she never came close to dropping him, but he felt calmer in her presence. It was soothing to do what she said, whether on the job or off.
He could only imagine how much better it would be with Peter and Chris. And now that he realized how long they'd been waiting for him, he was determined to be as good a sub as possible for them.
After a little over two months of courting, Stiles was comfortable going over to Peter and Chris's house, and had spent several afternoons there doing his homework. He'd also officially accepted courting gifts from both of them. Chris had taken Roscoe in for repairs and gotten him purring under the hood like magic. Peter had taken him out on a whirlwind shopping trip, with Chris tagging along "to act as a calming influence — trust me, you've never seen Peter clothes shopping before."
Peter had coached Stiles through trying on some skinnier jeans and tighter shirts, and he had to admit that he did look good in them. It also felt kind of nice, like his clothes were giving him a hug. He could see why people liked wearing less baggy clothes. While Peter wanted to put him mostly in button downs, Chris had been the voice of reason, allowing Stiles to get more graphic tees as long as he also tried on some of the nicer shirts. And seeing the way they both looked at him in his new clothes did squirmy things to Stiles's insides that he wasn't looking at too closely just yet.
Regardless, both men had provided him with courting gifts (and Stiles had no doubts that Peter had contributed to Chris's gift, the same way Chris had with his), and Stiles had accepted, so they were officially together. He was getting more and more comfortable hanging out with them and just being together, like doing his homework while Peter went over his case notes, or while Chris worked on Argent Arms paperwork.
He was also getting used to Peter ambushing him with questions as soon as he paused in his work.
"So, sweetheart, have you ever been in subspace before?" Peter asked as Stiles closed his history textbook.
Stiles flushed, embarrassed. "Kind of?"
"How do you kind of drop into subspace?" Chris asked, thankfully not meanly.
Stiles sighed. He'd known this was going to come out eventually, and had prepared himself to tell the story, even if they thought he was an idiot for it. "I mean, they warn you all the time in health class, not to go into subspace or domspace alone, so it wasn't like I was trying anything. But I found on this forum where it said that weighted blankets could be really comforting for subs if they couldn't go down into subspace often, and I thought I would try it."
"Oh baby," Chris murmured softly.
Stiles shrugged; clearly he'd figured out his stupidity. "I just used it when I was going to sleep that night, and it felt good." Kind of like a hug, like his new clothes, though he wasn't going to admit that part aloud. "I had really good dreams at first, like I was flying. But then I woke up and felt cold and clammy, and everything got so bad I thought I had the flu. It knocked me out for two days, and I barely dragged myself into Florence's diner in time for my shift the second day. I wasn't really thinking clearly, or I'd have never tried to go serve people food while I had the flu." Stiles couldn't help but roll his eyes at his own messed up thinking from that day.
"Maeve took one look at me and gave me the day off, then made me sit there at the bar and drink a cup of orange juice and eat some toast. She got the whole thing out of me, and she's the one who told me it was subdrop, not the flu. She made me promise not to use the blanket alone again, — and I haven't! — then she sent me home to sleep it off so I'd make it to class the next day." He ducked his head, not wanting to see the annoyance — or worse, anger — he imagined his doms must be feeling.
"Oh sweetheart," Peter said softly. "I'm so sorry that happened to you." Which what? Not what Stiles was expecting at all.
"Is that the only time you've come close to subspace?" Chris asked, also — incredibly! — not sounding angry at Stiles.
"Yeah," he shrugged and chanced a peek up through his eyelashes. Peter looked gutted, but Chris just looked upset with him. Stiles ducked down again. "It isn't like I have anyone who could guide me through it, but that's fine. That whole thing about needing to drop regularly clearly isn't as important as they make it sound."
Chris cleared his throat, but Stiles didn't risk looking up at him again. "And when did you manifest, baby?"
"When I was eleven. The doctor said I started early because of my mom dying. Most of the kids in school manifested when they were twelve or thirteen, though there were a few other early bloomers. And at least one that still doesn't appear to have an orientation." No one knew what to think of Greenberg, since he didn't read as dom, sub, or switch to their senses.
"Would you like to try subbing for us, sweetheart?" Peter asked.
Again, it was something that Stiles had been expecting — had honestly been expecting slightly sooner, and he'd already made up his mind before he accepted their courting gifts. Just because he was their soulmate didn't mean he had to sub for them — health class had been very clear about that! — but he wanted to.
"Yes please," Stiles nodded quickly.
"Then why don't you pack up your homework and come over here," Peter suggested. It wasn't a dom order, but it was still a firm request, and Stiles found himself obeying quickly. Once his backpack was zipped up, Stiles hesitantly walked towards Peter. He'd always known he was going to be bad at subbing, with how much he moved and fidgeted, but he was going to do his best today.
"Kneel beside me," Peter said, and Stiles obeyed. "Here."
Peter handed him something, and Stiles took a moment to examine it. It was a toy, composed of little soft fleece fabric blocks, about an inch square, with magnets inside. He was able to pull them apart and rearrange them with little effort. There was no pattern to them, like a rubik's cube, so there was nothing to distract him and get him stuck in his head. Best of all, they didn't make any of the clicking, clacking, or popping sounds that tended to distract him with other toys.
"You can play with those as much as you want, as long as you stay kneeling. Can you do that for me sweetheart?" Peter asked.
Stiles nodded vigorously. This was perfect actually, and it was clear that Peter and Chris had put a lot of thought into it.
"I need your words, sweetheart," Peter said, stroking a hand down his cheek to scent mark him.
"Yes sir, I can do it," Stiles replied, the more formal address slipping out without thought.
Peter gave him a cheshire grin. "Good boy. Now, if you want to close your eyes, you can." Before Stiles could reply, Peter's hand moved up to his head, running over it from his forehead down to the back of his neck. Stiles felt his whole body melting and he slumped against Peter's leg when he repeated the gesture.
Within moments, Stiles was flying.
Chris watched with mixed feelings as Peter took Stiles through a subspace meditation. He wasn't surprised at how quickly the boy had dropped, if he'd gone so long without a single good experience, and only one uncoordinated attempt that ended in a vicious subdrop. He felt so bad for their boy that he'd never had anyone safe to take him down, when it should have been something he was well used to by this age. Anger welled up again as he thought of the Sheriff, who should have been helping his son, but Chris shoved it away. He didn't want the slightest chance that Stiles would sense it and think the anger was directed at him.
Stiles was perfect, just as they'd known he would be. He soaked up the praise Peter gave him, and accepted each of the pats, strokes, and scent marks that Peter bestowed. His eyes had dropped to half mast almost immediately, and he was slumped against Peter's leg, his toy forgotten as his brain tried to catch up on years of missing subspace.
Peter was quickly flying too, his eyes taking on that glassy sheen that said he was in domspace, fully in control of his sub and riding high on taking care of him. Chris went to the kitchen and fetched the bottle of water and tray of nibbles that they'd prepared in advance, in case Stiles agreed.
Bringing it back to the living room, he placed it within Peter's reach. Peter didn't acknowledge him, but Chris wasn't expecting him to. He knew personally how everything dropped away when you were in domspace, how nothing mattered but you and your sub, and your ability to take care of him in a way that no one else could.
Some days Chris regretted that he was never able to give Peter this. While no means as deprived as Stiles, Peter didn't get to dom as often as a switch really should. Chris could go through the motions of submitting, no matter how much they rankled his inner dom, but the connection was missing, and Peter's drops weren't as deep as they should be. They'd resorted to visiting a club in San Francisco, where unattached doms and subs were able to pair up and give each other what they needed.
Chris always watched, loving the sight of Peter in his element as a dom, different from how he was as a sub. But this was so much better than any other time they'd done it, because this was Stiles, and he was theirs. Not permanently — not yet — but he was made for them, fated for them, and Chris couldn't wait to take Stiles down himself.
Seeing them together, Chris's heart swelled with love for both of his boys. As Peter hand fed Stiles little morsels and small sips, praising him after each one, Chris settled back in his chair to enjoy the show. This was how it should be for them all from now on.
Peter sighed as he snuggled in Chris's arms that night. He felt more refreshed than he had since the last time they went down to San Francisco, and now that they had a sub of their own, he wouldn't have to deny his inner dom that long ever again.
Stiles had looked delectable in his new clothes as well, and as much as Peter had pouted when Chris insisted that Stiles had final say in the clothes, Peter was glad that the boy felt comfortable in them. Most of his clothes were worn and threadbare — it was clear that he'd thrifted, and bought large in an effort to save his purchases for as long as possible.
Peter and Chris were sure that the things they hadn't seen, such as pajamas and socks were just as worn, so they'd insisted on Stiles getting a bit of everything. Even new shoes! Their sub would have been happy with just the one pair, but Peter had gotten his way, and they'd walked out of the mall with converse, sneakers, and a pair of dress shoes. Peter had even purchased something plaid, for the first time ever in his life, because Stiles had just looked so good in it, the color bringing out the golden tone in his eyes.
"We should give him the new phone and laptop tomorrow," Peter murmured into Chris's chest. They hadn't wanted to overwhelm Stiles, so they'd prioritized their courting gifts. His phone was cracked, but still serviceable, unlike his death trap of a jeep. Knowing that it had belonged to his mother meant that they couldn't replace it wholesale, but Chris had done everything he could under the hood while leaving the much beloved exterior alone. But with Stiles going into subspace with them for the first time, and dropping so beautifully, they should reward him tomorrow with the rest of his gifts.
"I thought you wanted to talk to him about custody next," Chris said, lazily stroking his hand down Peter's side.
"We can't do both?"
"Only if you do it carefully," Chris warned.
They'd already had several talks about how to approach Stiles without driving him away, and Peter had conceded to Chris's expertise after the shopping trip. There had been a few times — like with the shoes — when Stiles had protested getting extra things, and Peter had needed to cajole and manipulate him into it. He didn't want to manipulate their sub into living with them.
"Then you should tell him about the custody. I can give him a present for his submission, and you can talk to him about the next stage of our relationship."
"Agreed," Chris said easily.
Peter couldn't help the thrill that went through him at the thought. Soon he would have his dom and his sub, together under one roof for good. Peter's wolf was thrilled at the idea of his personal pack growing. He may not have an alpha spark, but it didn't stop him from viewing the two as part of his own little pack within the Hale pack.
"Oh shit, I need to tell Talia," he realized.
Chris, his loving, supportive husband, just laughed at him.
When Stiles got to Peter and Chris's house the next day, he was surprised to find a brand new laptop and phone sitting at his usual space. "Um…"
"I wanted to thank you for submitting so beautifully for me last night," Peter said, wrapping his arms around Stiles from behind in a warm hug. "They're really just extra courting gifts, but it felt like the right time. You're our brilliant little sub, and this laptop will help you live up to your potential with all those AP classes and your college plans, and make your life easier."
"And you noticed that my phone wasn't in great condition," Stiles teased, since Peter had all but cried at how outdated his phone was.
"I might have noticed that, yes," Peter said with a haughty sniff that was largely for show. Stiles had gotten to know both of them better over the past few weeks, and he knew that, while Peter could be snobbish about some things, it was usually about quality, not about logos. He bought Stiles certain clothes because they were a better quality, not because they were a name brand. Stiles was sure he would have done all kinds of research before picking out the best laptop — or at least made one of his paralegals do it!
Part of Stiles wanted to resist, felt like he hadn't earned these gifts, but it was a much smaller part of him than it had been before, and much easier to ignore. As Chris had told him during their shopping trip, doms and dominant switches were expected to court their subs properly. If someone questioned the worth of their courting gifts, they were questioning how much Peter and Chris actually cared about him.
For someone as poor as Stiles, a home cooked meal or a hand knit scarf or a self composed poem would be considered good gifts, as they came from the heart. For people as rich as Peter and Chris, their gifts had to be both meaningful and expensive. That was why they had replaced his clothes — not because they didn't want to be seen with him looking the way he was, but because they had seen that his third and fourth hand shirts and jeans were worn thin. That was why they had fixed Roscoe, and given him a prepaid credit card for gas and emergencies: because Stiles's safety was at stake. The same argument could probably be made for the phone, so he could call for help.
That was why Peter had made a point of mentioning Stiles's intelligence and future plans for college, because it showed that he had paid attention to what Stiles wanted and needed. It also quietly reassured him — after he'd freaked out to Maeve about whether or not they would let him go to college — to hear Peter talk about his future college work like it was a given.
"I thank you for your courting gift, my Switch, and accept it in the spirit in which it was offered," he said the formal words, enjoying it when Peter squeezed him extra tightly for a moment.
"We have something else to talk to you about — something good, hopefully," Chris said, speaking fast enough that Stiles's anxiety didn't have a chance to take root.
"Alright?"
Peter released him and went to sit in his usual chair, so Stiles took what was becoming his seat in the living room. Peter was relaxed, which further confirmed that this couldn't be anything bad. Stiles didn't think they'd missed any steps in their official courting — he'd even gotten an extra gift, which was somewhat common — so he couldn't think of what they'd need to talk about so seriously. Unless they were ready to move past courting and into a full relationship? It was legal for soulmated subs to consent once they were sixteen, but most waited until they were out of high school, if they had older partners.
Stiles had done a lot of research on this in the past few months, and knew all the statistics. Same age partners under 21 tended to jump right from courting into sex within two months, while those with an age gap tended to go for longer courtships, waiting for certain milestones for the younger partner, such as turning 17, 18, or 20. Stiles thought he'd die if he had to wait until he was 20 or 21, but with his father being the sheriff, he had figured Peter and Chris would wait until he was 18, the age of consent for doms and switches.
"Okay, hit me," Stiles said, once he was settled in his seat.
"I know you research everything with that brilliant mind," Chris began, "so I assume that you've researched the rules for custody between soulmates?"
"Oh," Stiles breathed out. "Y— yeah. Uh, any dom or switch over 18 can take custody of their switch or sub once they turn 16. They both need to sign paperwork regarding their consent. Consent of the sub's parent or parents is theoretically required, but there are several cases for waiving it, and the right judge won't even bother. Divorced parents fighting over custody is a common waiver, as it is believed that the sub will have more stability with their soulmate in that instance."
"And in your instance?" Chris prodded gently.
Stiles bit his lip and looked down. He knew that he and his dad had problems: he knew it. He'd dreamed of being whisked off by his soulmate before, okay? He just wasn't prepared to say the words aloud.
Peter, thank god, apparently used his werewolfy senses to tell how Stiles was feeling, because he offered, "We have enough evidence of his neglect, sweetheart, if you wanted to go that route."
Neglect. That was the word Stiles tried so hard not to think about. It was true, but he hated to think that way about the only parent he had left.
The only parent, but not the only option.
Maeve had talked him through it before, when Stiles was worried about leaving his dad behind. Neither one of them had said why he would be leaving, but the reason was obvious, since she knew about his soulmates. And that was the kicker, wasn't it? Maeve knew about his soulmates, but his dad didn't, because his dad never came home sober anymore. Peter and Chris wanted Stiles around. Wanted him in a way that his dad hadn't since his mom died. They cared about his clothes, and his safety, and his plans for college, and how hard he was working to keep the Stilinski household functional. They wanted him around, and his dad… his dad just didn't. They'd been going through the motions of being a family for years, but Stiles hadn't known how to change what had been broken, without bringing his mom back. And the internet had been fairly clear that, even with the supernatural world and magic and all, that really wasn't possible.
Peter and Chris wanted him.
Right?
"Would— would you want me?" Stiles asked, hating how small his voice sounded.
"Oh baby, we wanted you from the moment we knew you were ours," Chris said. Stiles peeked up and saw Peter nodding vigorously. "We took our time because we weren't going to rip you away from your dad if you were happy, but Peter's done all the research himself, and it seems like you might be better off with us. Of course we want you, but we also want what's best for you."
Stiles would be leaving his dad behind, but, as Maeve had pointed out, his dad had left Stiles behind a long time ago. And it was only two years before he would have gone to college and accomplished the same thing anyway. His dad would figure out how to live without him, just like they'd figured out how to live without mom.
"Living with you would be what's best for me," Stiles admitted, tearing up a little. It was the right thing to do for himself, but it was still hard. "I want to live with you."
A moment later, Peter was wrapped around him. Chris was slower, without werewolf speed, but he quickly had the two of them in his arms as well. Tears were streaming down Stiles's face, but he knew Peter would be able to smell how happy he was, so he tried not to be embarrassed.
"We'll make it happen, baby," Chris promised, his voice sounding choked up.
"You're ours now, sweetheart," Peter added in a possessive growl. "Forever."
And that sounded pretty damn perfect to Stiles.
