#steterweek

~

After twenty minutes of trying to calm Peter down, Stiles finally arrived.

"So, I'm not allowed to come fight the bad guy, but I have to deal with- oof!" 

Stiles let out a groan as the cursed beta latched onto him, wolfed out face pressing into his neck.

"Well, that worked fast," Derek spoke with surprised eyebrows.

"Can anyone tell me why a shifted Peter is attacking my neck?" Stiles asked, raising an eyebrow as he glanced between each of them.

"The witch cursed him," Isaac shrugged.

"Can you tell her to un-curse him?"

Peter stiffened the tiniest bit in his arms as Isaac, Derek and Erica pointed to a shredded body.

"Do you guys know what the curse is?" 

"The witch said something before she cursed him. Something like 'If you're going to listen to your wolf then maybe you shouldn't be able to listen to your human side.'"

"So, what you're saying is that Peter's only listening to his wolf?" 

Peter snuffled into his neck and Stiles sighed.

"Great." Stiles wrapped an arm around Peter's waist, the other moving to his neck, and started walking them back to his jeep. "Alright, let's get him to Deaton."

Carefully, Stiles detached the arms that circled him, pushing Peter into his jeep. 

"Are you human enough to do your own seatbelt?" 

Peter grinned up at him with fangs, "No."

"I hate you," Stiles grumbled. Even though it was a blatant lie, he still leant over the werewolf to buckle him in.

Peter quickly took advantage of the situation, licking a stripe of saliva across the human's neck as he leaned back.

"Jesus Christ, you're gross," Stiles yelped, moving to wipe away the spit.

Peter gripped his wrist tight, eyes flashing blue. "Leave it."

Stiles huffed, "Fine."

Peter let go and Stiles shut the door. He rounded the hood of his jeep, buckled himself in and started the car.

"So, exactly how in control are you?" he asked as he drove down the forest path. He could see the other cars up ahead and followed them.

"Well, I can speak, I haven't ripped out Scott's throat yet and I haven't bitten you yet," Peter drawled back around fanged teeth.

"But you can't shift back and it's a lot harder to stop yourself from doing those things. Wait, bite me?" Stiles' eyebrows scrunched together, and he glanced at the wolf.

Peter grinned, "Yes, bite you."

Stiles trained his eyes onto the road and tried not to show any outer emotions, keeping his heartbeat and breathing steady. He couldn't control how he smelled, however, as he spoke, "Does this mean you're like how you were before you died?" 

The wolf snapped his head towards him with wide eyes before his expression twisted into a smirk, "I guess it does. Is that a problem?" He sniffed at the air and took in the worry that rolled off of Stiles in waves, and the tinge of underlying fear.

"I mean, you did kill your niece and several other people, ripped up Lydia and you turned Scott. I guess you could say I'm a little concerned," Stiles shrugged.

"And you're concerned about me killing someone else?" he asked, though he knew that the boy wasn't.

"Yeah, what else would I be worried about?" he replied, though the tone in his voice conveyed how he felt about the question.

Peter's smirk turned into something a little more devious, a little more lecherous and a little more real. "Oh, I think we both know what else you're worried about."

"I'm not sure I do," Stiles lied.

"I think you're concerned about a repeat of what happened in that parking garage the night I died," he said, with just enough control to not lean over and grab Stiles' wrist.

"Why would I be concerned about you slamming my face into a car or destroying my keys?" he asked innocently.

Peter leaned in a little but managed not to grab onto him as he focused on his words, "Are you really forgetting my favourite part of that night, when I-"

"Careful, you don't know who might be listening," Stiles quickly interrupted, nodding towards the cars in front of them. It looked like they were getting close to Deaton's.

The werewolf chuckled, "It sounds like only Derek is listening, although it's possible he's only silent so he can brood. Now, where was I?"

"You were at the bit where you tell me why you seem to be so in control, even though you were just cursed to be out of control," the boy cut in again, jaw clenched just a little.

"It's taking a lot of control and concentration to not reach over and grab you, but I'm sure I'll give in once we're no longer in the car."

“Oh, joy,” Stiles responded sarcastically, rolling his eyes. Before Peter could say anything else, Stiles had started talking again, “What exactly does it feel like? I mean, to be more out of control and all that.”

Peter leaned back in his seat by a fraction. “It's like there's a devil on my shoulder, trying to convince me to follow my instincts without thought. Sometimes I don't even know what I'm doing until after I've done it. It's always there but I guess the curse has made it stronger, though I think the witch dying made the curse weaker than intended.”

“What's your little wolf devil telling you to do right now?” Stiles asked, curiosity peaked.

“It wants me to pull you closer and scent every part of your body. And every part really does mean every part,” Peter explained, placing a hand on Stiles' thigh.

The human jumped and twisted his body, trying his best to move his leg away from Peter without making it dangerous to drive. He couldn't hide the smell of arousal, though.

“And I repeat: oh, joy.”

A moment later, Stiles pulled into the parking lot of the vet clinic alongside the others. As soon as the two were out of the car, Peter had wrapped an arm around the boy's waist.

Stiles huffed but made no move to get away from the arm. He knew it would end in disaster if he did.

Erica and Boyd tried to get closer to them, no doubt wanting to help Stiles as they seemed to be fond of him, but backed off as soon as Peter flashed blue eyes and sharp fang at them.

“Mine,” he growled out, nosing at Stiles' temple to continue to scent him.

“Not yours, but okay,” came Stiles' response.

Peter huffed, the hot air fanning across Stiles' face. It was a weird sensation.

Stiles glanced around at everyone to find an angry and concerned looking Scott, wary Boyd and Erica, suspicious Allison and Lydia, unconcerned Isaac and a disgruntled Derek. So, the usual.

As they approached the building, Peter’s grip on his waist grew tighter.

“Hey, Peter, it’s okay. I won’t let Deaton hurt you,” Stiles murmured, turning his head to look Peter in the eyes.

The wolf nodded before nuzzling closer even as they kept walking.

“And what has brought you all to my doorstep this time?” Deaton asked as soon as they were all inside.

“The witch we were fighting cursed Peter. Then he killed her,” Derek seemed to tack on the last bit, not sure if it was important information or not.

Deaton frowned and made to move closer. He paused though when Peter tensed up and growled, baring his teeth.

Stiles couldn’t really blame the wolf for the seemingly over the top response.

“Did the witch say anything when she cursed him?” Deaton was seemingly unconcerned by the display as he asked the question.

“'If you're going to listen to your wolf then maybe you shouldn't be able to listen to your human side.’” Derek paraphrased.

“I see,” Deaton murmured. “And his actions after the curse was cast?”

"He wouldn't calm down and none of us could get closer to him without him growling."

"Well, it was more like one continuous growl that just got louder when we moved," Erica interjected. "He stopped once Stiles got here, though."

"My guess is that killing the witch has made the curse less effective and being around his anchor has lessened the effectiveness even more," Deaton supplied.

"Anchor?" Scott growled out, flashing his eyes and fangs at the cursed beta. Peter only responded with his own bared fangs.

Stiles sighed. "So, Doc, how long 'til the curse wears off?"

"Well, I can't give you any exact numbers-"

"Obviously."

"-but it will probably only last for a few days, if even that," Deaton said, ignoring Stiles' interruption.

Stiles sighed again before muttering, "At least it's not permanent or some bullshit." He turned around and left the building before anyone could convince him otherwise and was impressed when Peter managed to keep hold of him without tripping him up.

He heard several pack members call out for him, but he didn't stop until he was leaning against his jeep. He really didn't like Deaton, or anything associated with the man.

"Stiles, are you really going to just… hang out with Peter until the curse wears off?" Scott asked, eyebrows scrunched and raised to create a weird, concerned puppy dog look.

"I mean, yeah? Like I don't really want to, but also there are worse things I could be doing, and I don't have all that much choice." Stiles shrugged, ignoring how the movement made his arm rub against Peter's chest.  

"I'm sure we can think of a less dangerous option," Scott tried.

"Any other option will lead to your throat being ripped out," Peter snarled.

Scott's eyes flashed in response to the threat and he took a step forward, trying to challenge the beta.

"Scott, stop," Stiles said, hard glare in his eyes. He quickly continued before his friend could interrupt, "You just have to leave it alone, alright? It'll only be for a few days, and it's not like I haven't spent the same amount of time hanging out with Peter before. It'll just be like a sleepover."

Scott looked like he was going to protest again, but Derek stepped in. God bless him.

"Scott, he's right. I don't trust a cursed Peter, but I trust Stiles to be able to handle it. You should too."

Derek then grabbed onto Scott's arm and forcibly removed him from the premise.

"Good luck, Batman," Erica called as she, Boyd and Isaac left as well.

"You will be okay, right?" Allison asked, glancing at Peter when he snarled.

"Yeah, don't worry. If I can survive a psychotic, crazy, murderous, alpha Peter then I can survive a cursed, feral Peter." Stiles grinned.

Allison and Lydia nodded their goodbyes with a flash of smiles, before they were gone too.

Stiles opened Peter's door and shoved him in before Peter could do anything.

When Lydia’s nose had started to bleed, Peter got worried. Going into someone’s mind wasn’t an exact science, it was dangerous under the best circumstances, and Stiles possessed and by an ancient fox spirit at that were absolutely not the best circumstances.

But they had to try; Stiles needed to come back, to be in charge of his own body again, and it was the only thing Peter had been able to come up with in this short amount of time.

If only he had known earlier that Stiles was possessed; but he hadn’t seen Stiles in quite some time, and the rest of the pack hadn’t kept him in the loop.

He had been worried when Stiles had dodged his calls and attempts to meet up, but this had never crossed his mind. He had thought it was everyday teenager stuff that had Stiles worried and had planned on waiting him out instead of cornering him and forcing him to tell Peter what was wrong.

Maybe Peter should have done that. They wouldn’t be in this mess if he had just pushed a little bit.

Possession was easy enough to recognize, even if something as talented as a trickster spirit was to blame here, and Peter would have taken one look and knew that it wasn’t Stiles who was looking back at him.

But it was futile thinking about this now; he needed to keep his head in the game, guide them enough to get Stiles out of his own mind.

“Lydia,” he yelled when she started to tremble, dangerously close to dislodging the claws in her neck and it calmed her down, but Peter had no idea what was happening inside of Stiles’ mind, if Scott and Lydia were enough to get Stiles to focus, to make him want to come back.

But this was all he could try, and he had to believe that they would do their best.

Peter would have gone himself if he thought anyone would have let him, but he wasn’t here to start a fight. He was here to save Stiles.

Stiles was restlessly opening and closing his hands, drawing Peter’s gaze away from Lydia and when he looked at Stiles he thought his heart might have missed a beat for a second.

Stiles’ nose was bleeding too, and Peter was certain this wasn’t a good thing.

“No, come on, Stiles, you’re stronger than this,” he muttered and grabbed Stiles’ hands in his.

He was aware that everyone was staring at him, but it didn’t matter, they didn’t matter. The only important one in this room was Stiles, and Peter needed Stiles to come back to him.

Stiles suddenly trashed once on the couch, effectively dislodging Scott’s claws from his neck and Scott and Lydia came back to themselves with simultaneous gasps.

Peter locked eyes with Scott, hoping against hope that they had managed to get Stiles back as well, but Scott silently shook his head at him.

No. This was unacceptable.

“Stiles!” Peter roared, calling out for the only packmate he cared for, the boy who had so easily inserted himself into Peter’s life, and heart, and he put all his frustration into it.

He needed Stiles to come back to him.

Scott growled from behind the couch, but Peter was too preoccupied with Stiles who suddenly convulsed and fell forward, starting to gag.

Peter was quick to peel the duct tape off his mouth and then braced Stiles when he started hacking, bandages pouring suddenly from his mouth. Peter watched in horror as Stiles continued to throw up bandages, but he held Stiles close, unwilling to let go of him again.

When the retching stopped Stiles looked up at Peter, and Peter immediately pushed him away.

It was still Void.

Peter growled, low and menacing and he could feel the confusion around him, but he only had eyes for the imposter. It was incomprehensible how anyone could have thought this was Stiles and it only cemented his belief that Scott and his ragtag pack had no business claiming Stiles as theirs.

Everyone’s attention was thoroughly pulled towards the pile of bandages, when an arm suddenly shot out of there and even Peter had to look over, though he was unwilling to let Void out of his sight for too long.

A body clawed its’ way out of the bandages and when it stumbled towards them Peter and Scott rushed forward to restrain it.

Scott was shouting for help, for some restraints, but something made Peter pause.

“Wait,” he said to Scott and then helped the new body to get the bandages off its’ face.

He couldn’t say he was particularly shocked to see another Stiles show up under them, but he was surprised to see it was his Stiles.

“There’s two of them now?” Scott asked, and Peter would roll his eyes, if he wasn’t so fixated on Stiles.

“No, you idiot. This is Stiles. The real Stiles,” he told them, briefly checking Stiles over for injuries, but even his stomach wound had disappeared.

“Knew you would come for me, that you would know what to do,” Stiles whispered as he slumped forwards, resting his forehead against Peter’s shoulder.

“I didn’t do anything,” Peter regretfully said, and Stiles hugged him.

“I heard you. You called for me,” Stiles said and slightly shifted his head so that he was speaking into Peter’s neck, causing him to shiver. “You called me home.”

“Stiles, only an alpha can do that. Scott got you out,” Peter protested, even though it irked him.

It should have been him getting Stiles out of there.

“You are my alpha,” Stiles said and pushed away from him. “You got me out.”

Peter was about to protest again, when suddenly Scott was there too, clamping a hand on Peter’s shoulder and pulling him away from Stiles.

“What did you do?” he asked, accusation clear in his voice, even though Peter had no clue what was bugging him now.

“I did nothing,” Peter hissed, breaking Scott’s grip in his shoulder easily.

“Your eyes glowed red when you roared. What did you do?” he demanded to know, and Peter looked back at Stiles.

“True Alpha,” Stiles said from where he was still slumped against Peter and there was pride in his voice.

“That is impossible,” Scott immediately said and looked at Deaton for confirmation.

Deaton only shrugged.

“It’s a question of character, of spirit. If someone rises to alpha status like this it’s because they want to, so they can care for people, because they have others depending on them.”

“So, it’s not possible for Peter. He doesn’t have either of those.”

“I’m not so sure,” Deaton said with a pointed look at Stiles, who was still clinging to Peter.

“Stiles is in my pack,” Scott complained, and Stiles snorted.

“Haven’t been for a while, buddy,” he said, but he sounded tired and Peter was slammed with the instinct to take care of his pack.

“Come on, up, darling,” he softly said and helped Stiles stand. “You need to rest.”

“Not home,” Stiles mumbled, and Peter was more than happy to bring him to his own den. It would satisfy is instincts.

“Where’s the other one?” Melissa suddenly asked, and everyone looked around.

Lydia was gone too.

“We need to find them,” Scott decided, expectantly staring at Stiles but Peter wouldn’t allow this.

“He needs to rest, he’s been through enough,” he snapped, pulling Stiles closer to him. “He’s coming with me,” he said, flashing his eyes at Scott and now he could feel the alpha power coursing through him.

Not overwhelming him like it had when he had killed Laura, but strengthening him, and pushing the need to take care of his pack to the forefront again.

He gathered Stiles up without another word, arm slung securely around his waist, and walked out of Scott’s house, unwilling to stay there a second longer.

“’m tired,” Stiles mumbled, barely stumbling along with Peter and Peter bent down to sweep him up into a bridal carry.

Stiles didn’t even protest, just snuggled closer and it seemed like he was dozing.

“Knew you’d be my alpha eventually,” he muttered after a few minutes, startling Peter who had thought he had fallen asleep. “Wanted it.”

“I got you now, sweetheart,” Peter promised him, feeling the pack bond bright and strong in his chest.