Chapter Text
Stiles let his tense muscles relax against the new and strengthening growth jutting atop the stump of the Nemeton. After a long moment forcing the noise of the excited pack to fade away, his body sank into it’s familiar meditative state and focused on his newly formed pack bonds and the increasingly familiar guardian bond with the tree. All of his bonds shone brightly in his mind, much stronger now with an Alpha to anchor them all to the land and the magic of the territory. Stiles’ body relaxed further and tingled with now unfamiliar contentment. From the moment that the Alpha spark settled inside Peter, Stiles had felt more in control and centered than he had since the moment his father had taken his last breath.
His magic thrummed with excitement at the development, providing him with some kind of intrinsic knowledge that his abilities had required a strong anchor to keep himself from the magical equivalent of becoming an omega. The revelation was jarring and intense and made Stiles feel like he should be more concerned with the finality of it all, but the longer Stiles focused on his bonds the more settled he became. It was as if something primal within him was finally sated and the tight ball of stress he’d been holding onto for the last couple of weeks had started uncoiling into something more manageable.
As much as he wanted to feel concerned about the way his magic was making him feel about the pack, about Alpha, Stiles couldn’t muster the energy to be concerned about the budding and frankly alarming connection forming between himself and the formerly dead hopefully ex-villain.
(Considering the circumstances, Stiles had chosen to take ‘Zombiewolf’ out of his rotation of acceptable nicknames. He was sure he’d have some creative alternatives when he had the time, but alas, apocalypse.)
His mind drifted onto thoughts of the settlement and the various projects that were being planned and smiled serenely. Peter had been right, hearing everyone step forward with ideas for improvement had not only given him hope for the kind of civilization they would be able to build out here, but also reminded him that the burden of survival wasn’t resting entirely on his shoulders as their reluctant leader.
They were going to be okay. He was going to be okay. He had the brilliant and frustratingly crafty Peter Hale on their side. He even appeared much more sane than Stiles had anticipated and now that he was undisputed Alpha with willing betas, Stiles was confident that manipulative dominance plays and violence against innocents would be minimal, if not completely non-existent.
As if spurred on by his acceptance and trust in his Alpha, an intense rush of magic flowed through Stiles, solidifying his connection to the Nemeton. The tree was pleased to feel his presence, and it’s mood seemed light and almost playful as it niggled in the back of his mind and wrapped itself around his being affectionately. Stiles melted into the sensation of being connected to the land, the wards, and his magic while beginning the process of channeling his excess into the Nemeton and the territory.
Even with the amount of magic he’d expelled while eliminating threats at Eichen, Stiles had been feeling like his magic was moments from bursting. Ever since his Spark awakened in this very clearing, it seemed like the amounts of magic he produced were increasing every day. He had his theories as to why he was so immeasurably powerful and growing more and more by the day, but he had little evidence for such thoughts outside of a single throwaway comment made by Deaton the day before his death.
’...a Spark only grows through adversity, after all.’
It had sparked a memory of an old story his mother used to tell. Of ancestors called dragons who were just powerful magic users with a preference for shapeshifting. How they bound themselves to the land and protected it with their very being. How their power could only grow when they overcame pain or danger. If such stories were true, Stiles could only imagine the power boost his experience with the Nogitsune had gained him. Never ending torture and a threat that went beyond something so petty as life and death.
He sometimes still heard it’s words, whispered reverently in his ear, a mockery of love that shook him to his core. ’We will love our Spark, mate him and bind his soul to us for eternity.’ Those whispered words of love had been more terrifying than any other thing that the creature had done to him; the warped, twisted, genuine, affection more violent and cruel than any torture Stiles could have conceived.
In those moments he’d felt what it had felt, not even being allowed the courtesy of his own disgust at the notion. He’d been forced to feel wrapped in the twisted possessiveness as if it was honor, as if he liked it. As if the notion was something divine as opposed to eternal torment. That more than any single other thing the creature had done to him was the source of his nightmares.
(He would wake in a cold sweat, pining and mourning his lost potential mate. The first time it happened he’d nearly died from dehydration after vomiting for fourteen hours. No one dared speak of the things he’d said while in the throws of his delirium.)
Stiles felt the Nemeton squeeze around his being and pull him from the direction of his thoughts. In this moment the magic held faint traces of coffee and gun oil, wrapping him in the hints of the life magic that was left behind by his fathers’ sacrifice. The first time he’d felt it, he’d almost fallen into a panic attack. It was the first time that the tree had made an effort to pass along any kind of distinct message to him, taking great efforts to relay that his father and brother had passed on peacefully and that while the traces left behind were genuine and real, they were nothing more than a magical echo. A manifestation of their love and dedication to protect what they had left behind.
Stiles didn’t allow himself to think about it too often. Any time he lost the ironclad grip he had on his own control, Stiles’ magic started to leak from him like faulty plumbing. Without an anchor he was at risk of leveling the entire city, likely more if his theories about the extent of his own magical potential were correct. He’d worked with the Nemeton for any alternative anchors he could find before relenting to it’s will to seek out Peter.
The damned tree was far too fond of Peter for Stiles’ liking, and while he completely understood that it held a much different value system than himself, he still found the whole thing a bit excessive. The Nemeton nearly salivated with want at the idea of having Peter as a non-feral Alpha of the territory. Something about his vicious protection as Talia’s enforcer and his systematic vengeance for his pack.
The whole thing had unnerved Stiles at first, but after time he could accept where the tree was coming from. The world was vicious now and they needed strong leadership. Stiles had faith in the Nemeton--no doubt spurred on by the guardian bond and his newfound magical instincts-- and the Nemeton had faith in Peter. After Eina joined the group and assured everyone of his stability, Stiles really had no option other than to go and break Peter out of Eichen House.
Now being bonded to a proper pack with an Alpha, Stiles should be able to channel some of the excess magical energy through the bonds to offset his overflow. Channeling the excess energy into the Nemeton was a great temporary solution, and something he’d keep doing on a regular basis, but without a pack he was having to channel daily and was still close to overflowing.
As the pack bonds grew stronger, Stiles would be able to channel more energy into them and will in turn become more stable. Having an Alpha as an anchor will guarantee that Stiles won't become overcome by his magic and go feral. It also gave him a measure of checks and balances against Peter and his Alpha power. He could feel it in the intrinsic hierarchy of the pack bonds, he was of equal rank to the Alpha now and could step in without issue if he ever had to.
Not that he had any doubt that he couldn’t overpower Peter, but Stiles was feeling confident in Peter’s potential leadership. He was ruthless and intelligent, and all of the things that Stiles had been worried about were proving to be non-issues the more time the two spent together. It was strange looking at the older man now and seeing the massive difference in his personality and appearance after that previously present hint of madness had gone from his eyes.
It was honestly kind of freaking Stiles out.
Peter was always objectively attractive. Even with his insanity, he had an appeal in that ‘sexy-serial-killer-like-dexter’ kind of way. It’d been easy for Stiles to ignore back in high school, as any thoughts about the man as anything other than a threat became impossible. Yet now looking at Peter was like looking at a completely different person.
He was still in a lot of ways the same snarky, manipulative asshole he’s always been, but now there was a softness to Peter that Stiles was finding alarmingly attractive. Coupling that with the bond forming between them, and the newfound feelings were starting to get hard to ignore. Stiles had put Peter on the spot at the end of the dinner meeting, hoping in some ways that Peter would remind him of all his terrible qualities. Some annoying speech about how he was the Alpha now and whatever controlling bullshit came along with that nonsense.
Instead, he was given that heartfelt and emotional speech about how they were all a team and he was happy to have them as a pack. It was fucking traumatizing and Stiles couldn’t wait to run away to the Nemeton afterwards and promptly start making attempts at denial of the rush of pure want that had consumed him.
Stiles felt the Nemeton coil its magic around his own bond with Peter and hum excitedly. The tree was clearly invested in their relationship and Stiles could feel the encouragement that was being sent toward them both. It outright desired the two of them working together to run the territory, and it was unnerving while somehow also being very comforting. He knew the ancient sentient tree wasn’t being completely upfront about it’s long term plans, but Stiles kept himself from freaking out completely because he could feel the fact that it had their best interests in mind.
The Nemeton wanted a strong territory and for that territory to stay strong as the world fell apart around them. It needed nurturing to do that and was willing and excited to help them thrive in return. A strong pack would be able to keep it safe from those who would try to attack it, and thanks to the energy it had received from the sacrifices and Stiles himself, the protection wards would stay almost impossibly strong in exchange.
The tree gave Stiles the impression that the size of the wards could grow with the tree and packs power, and that they had a legitimately good chance of being able to build a stable society here. Stiles bought into the dream if only because there was nothing else left. Once they had a stable settlement here they would look into finding other survivors and growing the pack. He wondered if Peter was thinking along the same lines, if he had plans beyond their need for basic survival and infrastructure. He filed those questions away for later and instead focused on inquiring about growing food and ideal planting locations in the clearing.
The tree seemed amused by the question (and blatant change of subject in the instinct based conversation they’d been having) and Stiles interpreted the following rush of intent as the tree assuring him that anywhere in the clearing would produce quality crops. He got the impression that it was something to do with the raw magic of this area and the configuration of the wards. That the wards themselves were almost sentient and would adapt over time to their needs. He also got the impression that the wards were bound to the pack as well as the Nemeton, and would also grow in strength alongside them. Either way, it was clear that Mrs. Loretta would be able to plant wherever she saw fit and Stiles had another million things to theorize and consider. As was typical of any lengthy conversation with ancient all knowing magics that for some reason had taken a particular liking to him.
Stiles felt the Nemeton start growing ever so slightly at his back and knew that the tree had absorbed all the energy that it would be able to from him now. He didn’t really understand how it worked, but he knew that the tree itself could only handle so much at once and it had little to do with his ability to provide. He likened it to how one had to eat or drink slowly after being starved or they could severely hurt themselves.
The Nemeton had been in bad shape for centuries and had to pace itself with its own recovery, lest it cause more damage. The tree seemed pleased at his deduction and their session and with a final nudge of encouragement, it seemed to push a wave of his magic out through his pack bonds before the connection between the two of them was severed. Stiles emerged from his meditative state with a jolt, a loud gasp, and a new ability.
More time had passed than he’d expected. It was fully dark outside now, the clearing illuminated by only the fire at center camp and the brightness of the moon and stars overhead. There was still movement over by the tents which wasn’t much of a surprise for Stiles, everyone seemed to be filled with a sense of motivation after the earlier meeting and would likely be up later than normal this evening.
He didn’t make it halfway back to the tents before he was nearly tackled by Leah, “Stiles! I’m glad you’re back. The wolves all got super weird.” She frowned and tucked her long brown hair behind her left ear but he didn’t think there was any alarm in her voice.
“What happened?” Stiles asked, keeping his tone and body language calm as the two of them made their way back to the campfire. The twins were new to the supernatural and Stiles never wanted to give them a reason to be alarmed.
“About two minutes ago, all of their eyes flashed at once and they got really excited about something. Then Peter stood up and suggested they go on a run around the area and they all seemed super into it.” She shrugged, “Then they all took off like a bat out of hell. It was kind of hilarious.”
“Oh.” Stiles paused in his walking for a moment to consider if their strange behavior was of his doing. “That’s probably my fault. Now that we have an Alpha I can feel the pack bonds and I sent them some of my magic energy to the pack like I do with the Nemeton.”
Leah laughed a laugh that was both highly amused and resigned, “This magic stuff is crazy, dude.”
“How are you handling all that, by the way? Accepting it all can be rough.” Stiles stopped walking and placed a hand on her shoulder in an attempt to comfort. Leah and Ryan had only joined the group four days ago, they’d been fleeing their college campus in Los Angeles when their car broke down just outside of Beacon Hills like some kind of horror movie.
His group had just finished raiding the police station for weapons and long range walkies when they happened to run into the twins being swarmed by a group of zombies. It was during that fight that they’d gotten their first glimpse of a zombie werewolf. Some of the images from that fight still haunted Stiles, so he couldn’t imagine what these two normal college students were thinking. Ever since it’s been non stop supernatural reveals for the two humans and Stiles had to wonder how neither of them have had a freak out yet.
“I’m handling it fine, I guess. It helps that you’re so upfront and honest about everything, and take the time to explain it all. A bunch of eye candy werewolves and a little magic nerd are pretty easy to handle when compared to a Romero movie.” She pulled Stiles in for an awkward hug before releasing him quickly and turning back toward the approaching fire, “I guess I’m just resigned to the weirdness. And I’m not really that interested in being a werewolf, but if I fell and broke my leg or something I’d probably end up wanting the bite over months of recovery.”
Stiles nodded, “That’s perfectly reasonable, actually. I wouldn’t say that if we still had hospitals and stuff, but I understand not wanting to risk being vulnerable when the world is like this.”
“You get me.” Lean nudged playfully, “I’m going to get back to my research. I found a book about plumbing so I don't need the computers for a while.”
“I guess plumbing is a good place to start for the showers.” Stiles nodded.
“Oh, actually, when I was talking to Peter a bit ago I got an idea for re-routing the well water from the Hale House out here to the clearing. I actually think it’s possible, as long as the water pump back at the house is a nice quality one. Even if it isn’t we may be able to replace it and then our possibilities are endless.”
“Oh wow, so you’d be able to get us running water out here?” Stiles hadn’t imagined that something like that was doable.
“Yep. Definitely to one building, possibly to a small group of them. Peter mentioned wanting a large central pack house with a kitchen and a lounge area large enough for everyone to be able to congregate on rainy days. So at the very least the pack house would have running water.”
“Something like that would take forever to build though, right?” Stiles questioned, surely permanent structures like that were months away. He’d been assuming that they’d be lucky to have everyone out of tents comfortably by winter. Leah’s grin was knowing and mischievous.
“Maybe not as far off as you think. We didn’t stop bouncing ideas around until the wolves all ran off a few minutes ago. You missed hours of refinement and some very interesting ideas and revelations. But I don’t want to ruin the surprise, Stiles, see you later.” She bounced off toward her tent without giving him a chance to respond.
A part of him was irritated that he missed out on so much planning, but the other part was beyond relieved. This was just another reason he needed Peter around. Keeping up with every aspect of their survival had been squarely on his shoulders since before the group moved out here. Knowing that Peter was already comfortable taking some of that responsibility off his shoulders and was wanting to surprise Stiles with the progress was enough to keep him from poking around in search of answers.
Instead Stiles would focus his attention on his own projects. He’d already fully researched and acquired all the needed ingredients for the tree removal ritual. The only thing missing there was ensuring that all the trees that needed uprooting had a rune carved in them and waiting until the full moon. That meant his attention could be focused solely on Lydia.
Armed with that knowledge, Stiles headed toward the makeshift medical tent to check on his goddess. When he stepped into the opened tent, Melissa was laying on her blow up mattress humming softly to herself while reading a book on plants by lantern light. She looked up and gave him a soft and knowing grin before going right back to it. He didn’t comment on the pile of tissues by her bed the same as she didn’t comment on his regularly red-rimmed eyes. They were both coping in their own ways and weren’t ready to seek comfort in others yet. But there was an unspoken knowledge that they would be there for each other when the time came.
Stiles knelt down on the other side of the tent where Lydia was laying sedated on her bedroll. Even knocked unconscious Stiles could tell that she was suffering. Her eyebrows were pinched as if she was having a nightmare and she was covered in a thin layer of sweat. He reached down and gently moved some stray hairs out of her face and reached for the washcloth in a bowl of cool water at her bedside and wrung it out.
“This would all be much easier if you were awake, Lydia.” He whispered to her as he gently wiped clean her clammy skin. “All the books that have been remotely helpful are in Latin and you know how hard I’ve always relied on you for those translations, it’s a complete mess without you, a total travesty. The earth itself will take a breath of relief when you’re back to keep us idiots in line...I have half of the runes needed to create the charm that will block your powers, and I’ve already picked out the most gorgeous necklace to carve them into. I know you’ll love it, it matches your eyes and while understated, has an exotic uniqueness that just screams Lydia Martin.”
Stiles finished wiping the sweat from the redhead and kissed her gently on the forehead. His eyes traced her face in an almost desperately searching fashion, “I’m close, goddess, I promise.”
Stiles held back the torrent of emotions that washed over him and stood up from where he’d been kneeling. “Night Melissa. I love you.”
“I love you too. Take care, Stiles.” Her tone was knowing and loaded and Stiles had to rush back toward center camp to avoid the emotions she’d made him feel at the gesture. Almost parental, a message that she still saw him as a son. That he wasn’t alone and he still had a parent left that cared for his well being. A reminder to herself that she still had a son to care for. That she couldn’t give up.
On the way back to his tent Stiles filled his water canteen from the small water tank in the fridge. Their little kitchen area was working fine for now, but Stiles couldn’t stop the itching unease at their appliances being stored in such a flimsy shelter. He would make that his next project, Stiles figured, and made a small mental note to himself.
He was tempted to get straight into his research on runes and charms, but he’d only given himself a rudimentary wash after his trip to Eichen house earlier and figured it would be a good idea to go down to the river and bathe before settling in for the night. There was a good chance that he wasn’t the only one who needed to feel clean after the rough day.
The wolves especially would want to get clean after their run and it would be best if everyone went together. Stiles mentally tugged on his bond to Peter to urge the wolves back toward the clearing and hoped that he got his intent across to the Alpha. He felt a tug of acknowledgement and grinned at himself for his newly acquired skill. His bonds to the pack were still new to him, but he could feel that they would be back shortly. Stiles settled himself into the chair next to Mrs. Loretta and the campfire with the intent to relax a bit while he waited on their return.
“It’s a beautiful evening.” The elder woman said without looking up from her knitting, something knowing in her tone that Stiles couldn’t place. “You can really feel the magic in the air.”
“You’re right, this clearing is saturated in magic. I’m betting it’ll seep into everything we build here eventually, as long as we nurture it well. You can build the garden wherever you’d like, by the way, all the ground in the clearing is highly fertile.”
“Wonderful.” The woman hummed softly before resuming her work without further comment and letting a comfortable silence stretch between them.
Stiles allowed himself this time to relax and just exist without any obligations. He’d been going non stop for days now preparing for the assault on Eichen House and now that it was over he couldn’t bring himself to dive immediately into his research. He resolved to allow himself this night to relax, get himself clean, curl up in his pajamas, and get a good night's sleep with the knowledge that tomorrow he could dedicate his entire day to saving Lydia. He smiled and let his gaze drift upward toward the starry sky before fading into an almost sleep while listening to the soft clicking of knitting needles and the crackling of the dying campfire.
Stiles jolted in his chair when he heard the sounds of the pack returning from their run. He’d have found the noise more alarming if it wasn’t for feeling their approach through the bonds almost immediately after being startled. Stiles yawned and stood from his chair with a stretch just as Peter came to a stop in front of him with a relaxed and pleased expression on his face.
“Hello Stiles.” He purred and Stiles promptly ignored how the sound of Peters’ voice sent chills down his spine. He really needed to keep these urges from developing further, or else Peter would never in a million years let him live it down.
“Hey creeper, now that you all are done prancing around in the woods, any of you want to go with me to the river to clean off?” Peter rolled his eyes at the snark but still agreed along with the rest of the wolves who all looked equally calm and pleased after their run.
“Shall we see if everyone wants to head up there together?” Peter questioned with a lilt that was interpreted as rhetorical because Mason and Liam turned toward the tents to go collect the various human pack members who may want to come along.
Peter didn’t stop looking at Stiles, an obvious question on his face that he was clearly unsure that he had the right to ask. Stiles saved him from having to ask, if only to stop Peter looking at him with such earnest caution. “So I’m guessing you guys felt that?”
“It was like a huge rush of strength and energy. The power is still there but more subdued than it was at first, it came from you?” It was obvious that Peter already knew the answer to his question and was asking more as a means to get an explanation of the reason as opposed to the origin.
“Yep, the stronger the pack bonds get, the more I can send to you all. It’s going to help a lot. I’ve been overflowing and having control slips.” Stiles said nonchalantly as if it hadn’t been the very big deal that it was. It was obvious that Peter wasn’t buying it, but was willing to play along.
“Aiden mentioned that you’ve been channeling more often and for longer as the days have gone by. I’m guessing that’s why?” Stiles had a quick moment where he almost resisted answering the question. As if a part of him was still reluctant to fully trust Peter with information about his power and any weaknesses. He had to actively shake the feeling off and hoped that Peter didn’t notice his hesitation. There were no outward signs that he had, but Stiles knew the man saw more than anyone else would.
“Yeah, now that I’m anchored to an Alpha. I feel much more at ease than I did this morning. Less like I could explode and take out the entire west coast if I slipped for even a second.” Stiles trailed off at the shocked look that crossed Peters face. “What man? I’m not going to kill us all, okay? It’s fine, now, I had it handled.”
“I’m your magical anchor?” Peter’s voice went breathless and Stiles couldn’t figure out what the big deal was. He watched as the Alpha closed his eyes and examined his own bonds, not able to completely hide the second he’d found theirs and inhaled sharply. When he spoke again his voice was low, almost raspy even as he attempted to play it cool. “That’s a permanent bond, Stiles, do you understand what that means?”
Unfortunately, Stiles saw through Peters’ attempts to downplay his reaction and Stiles did not, in fact, know what it meant. Nor did he even fully realise what he’d done, he’d simply followed along with the Nemetons urgings and, sure, the tree was weird but-- He felt a wave of panic wash over him and mentally shoved it down with extreme prejudice. Stiles would deal with all his emotions at some undisclosed future date when he didn’t have too much shit to deal with already. He took a deep breath and locked eyes with the wolf, trying to act unaffected, as he waved off the tension with his hand, “It’s no big deal, we’ll talk about it later.”
Peter nodded but eyed him knowingly the entire time. Stiles never regretted agreeing to share a tent with Peter more than this moment. If there was anyone left alive and conscious on this planet who could see past his bullshit, it was Peter Hale. He sighed and looked around to see if the group was about ready to head out. Symbolically running away from the tension of the conversation and the warring feelings of dread and acceptance at the seriousness of the connection the two had formed.
Like a good distraction, Leah was piling towels into Aidens open arms like a pack mule all the while babbling animatedly about the different soaps she had put in the bag. “And they’re all natural, so they won't contaminate the water, which is important but what do we do when we run out of this stuff? What is soap even made of? It’s crazy how all these little things that I’ve never thought of before have become so important.”
“The Mountain Lilac flower can be ground down into a soap.“ Mason called from where he was walking up to join the group. He got a chorus of questioning looks and chuckles from the assorted onlookers and he blushed deeply, “I heard it on some nature documentary in school and it stuck with me.”
“Someone remember to let Mrs. Loretta know so that we can grow some.” Peter interjected, giving Mason a reassuring pat on the shoulder that caused the younger wolf to visibly relax and almost start preening. “Everyone ready to head out?”
There was a round of affirmation and the small group headed toward the river up past the northeast section of the clearing. As they made the near twenty minute walk, the wolves talked about what they’d seen on their run. Apparently, they’d done a full circuit about a quarter mile outside the radius of the clearing and found only faint traces of zombies and plenty of wildlife. No hints of any humans or other supernaturals, but it made sense that any sane humans would keep clear of forests; Too many dangerous things could be lurking within.
Stiles almost moaned aloud when he’d finally gotten himself clean. Washing away the blood, sweat, and dirt of the last two days was almost a religious experience. His pleased babbling has earned him a loud round of laughter and lewd remarks from Corey and Mason who’d both ended their mini-rants by calling him a tease. The large group took their time swimming and playing around before heading back to the clearing.
The group felt much closer after the bonding at the river and spent the whole walk back continuing with the lighthearted and pleasant atmosphere. When they’d returned the humans huddled around the dwindling campfire to warm up from the chill while the wolves went about final preparations for bedtime. Stiles' plans for a warming session were interrupted by the piercing sounds of Lydia screaming the moment that they crossed the wards, both scaring the shit out of everyone and nearly causing Stiles a heart attack as he raced to her tent to assist Melissa.
It took them a solid twenty minutes to get her sedated and back to sleep, and by the time Stiles was finished he was exhausted and emotionally drained. He never wanted to see Lydia like that again and as he exited Melissa's tent with his tear stained eyes he resolved to do just that. At least the wards had kept the sound of her screams isolated to the clearing, if they were able to dampen the scream like that then he had to believe that being underneath them was lessening her suffering at least a bit.
Stiles yawned once more as he pulled back the flap to his shared tent and froze in place. Peter had taken all the blankets from his side and added them to his own pile, effectively making Peters’ entire room of the tent one large bed and he was sitting frozen with a pillow like he’d just been caught with his hands in a cookie jar. Stiles didn’t say anything and crossed over to his side to throw on his pajamas.They were soft and warm and comfortable and Stiles only wore them inside and when he was clean. They were his comfort clothes and he had a feeling he would need them for this entire situation.
“Before you say anything, I have a perfectly logical explanation.” Peter said smoothly as he placed the pillow in the pile and stood.
Stiles let the silence ring between them as he pulled on his red hoodie and stretched his body long and deep. He followed that by cracking his back and crossing into the center room, stopping about halfway to where Peter was standing and looking at Stiles like a paragon of innocence. Stiles kept his face neutral but his voice betrayed his borderline irritation and hopefully not his other confusing reactions. “Let’s hear it.”
“There is no way those three baby wolves aren’t in this tent within the next few hours. They have a brand new Alpha and fresh pack bonds so instinct will pull them close. Also, I am a brand new Alpha who has just been released from isolation before getting pumped full of your magic, adding to those overwhelming instincts, then there's the fact that my strongest pack bond is to you. It’s really best to just go ahead and prepare for the inevitable, what did you call them, puppy pile?”
The fact that it was a totally logical explanation and that it did make perfect sense only managed to make Stiles furious. He huffed, stomped past Peter, and dutifully collapsed right in the center of the blanket pile. After a few seconds of squirming, he settled into a comfortable position and relaxed against the extra padding. Only then did he dare to look back up at the Alpha who was watching him with an expression that was both smug and weirdly intense.
“Well, come on, then.” Stiles grumbled up at Peter, “I concede, cut the lights and get down here so I can go to sleep. We should aim to wake up right at dawn so we have the most daylight to work with tomorrow.”
Peter stripped down until he was wearing nothing but a pair of basketball shorts that Stiles absently wondered as to the origin of. Most of the pack's clothes were being kept in various vehicles down at the Hale House, so chances were that one of the others had taken Peter to get himself something to wear. Stiles really should have thought of bringing him some stuff, but he’d been a bit distracted with everything else on his plate.
Stiles turned away so that he didn’t risk Peter noticing the way he’d gaped at the wolf's stomach. It honestly wasn’t fair that a man his age was so unbelievably good looking, some Hale ancestors must have sold their soul to the devil for the looks that ran in that family.
Within a minute, Peter was pressed flush against his back and pulled Stiles’ tight against his chest. Stiles let himself be moved into Peter’s ideal position and allowed himself to relax into the gentle scenting that followed. He tensed for a moment as Peter pressed his nose into the crease of his neck and took a deep inhale, but when the action didn’t further escalate Stiles allowed himself to fall into a restful sleep and resolutely ignored how completely right he felt laying here with his Alpha.
A part of him registered, about an hour later, when the young wolves filtered into their tent and curled up with Stiles and their new Alpha. The three filing in and gently scenting Stiles and Peter each while they climbed under the blanket and pressed up against the two. Even Aiden ended up joining when his shift ended, simply slipping into the spot that Corey had left vacated when he left to start his own shift on watch with Ryan. The group curled tightly into each other for the entire evening, most of them feeling the most safe and getting the best sleep they had since the world ended.