Fandom: Teen Wolf
Word Count: 1,742
Summary: Noah sometimes wishes Stiles didn’t have to do everything the hard way.
Authors Note: Set in an AU were the Alpha Pack was defeated, Derek is Alpha, Scott is not, the Sheriff is in the know, and life continued.
Noah blinked. “I’m sorry, you want to what?”
When Stiles had ushered Derek Hale into the house, sat them all down at the kitchen table and informed Noah that they had something to tell him, he’d been expecting to hear about a dragon sighting, or vampires or something. He should have known better. In the eighteen years of his life so far, Stiles had hardly done what Noah had expected.
“Get werewolf married,” Stiles explained as if it was the words themselves rather than their meaning that Noah was confused about.
“Stop calling it ‘werewolf married,’” Derek said in the resigned tones of someone who knew that their objection was going to be ignored. He was sitting upright in his chair, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. He’d looked more relaxed when Noah was arresting him on suspicion of murder.
Stiles ignored the disgruntled Alpha sitting beside him and looked expectantly at Noah.
Noah tried again. “Why do you want to get werewolf married? I didn’t even know you were dating.” He frowned at Derek. “Isn’t he a little old for you? How long has this been going on for?”
Stiles rolled his eyes. “We’re not dating, Dad. And we’re doing it because Peter heard that an Alpha pack—a real one this time—is heading our way. If I want to be considered part of the pack, then I need a closer connection to one of the wolves. I can either get werewolf married to Derek, or he can give me the bite.”
“What happens if he doesn’t give you the bite or marry you?”
Derek folded his arms across his chest with a sigh and looked at the ceiling but didn’t verbally correct Noah.
Stiles shrugged. “According to Peter, they might either try to kill me or bite me themselves, depending on whether they think I have anything to offer. Alpha packs aren’t big on random humans knowing about the supernatural, it seems.”
“I know about werewolves too,” Noah pointed out. “Do I need to get werewolf married as well?”
Stiles waved a hand dismissively. “You get an out, being the head of the local law enforcement. You come under the heading ‘desirable ally.’ So does Melissa, because having an in at the hospital is a good thing.” He was talking casually but wasn’t making eye contact.
Derek frowned and shifted a bit closer to Stiles but didn’t say anything.
Noah backpedalled out of that emotional landmine. Stiles wouldn’t thank him for discussing his feelings on being the outsider while Derek was still there. “What’s involved in this werewolf wedding?”
“It’s not a wedding,” Derek said. “It’s an integration ritual. It’s used to create bonds between werewolves and a non-werewolves, whether they’re fully human or something else.”
“Okay.” Noah thought about that. “I don’t really understand why he’ll be performing the ritual with you. Wouldn’t it be easier if he was bonded with Scott or one of the others? Or does it need to be you because you’re the Alpha?”
Derek’s stance changed slightly. “It doesn’t necessarily have to be the Alpha, just a werewolf member of the pack.”
“Go on,” Stiles said with an air of innocence that was as good as a red flag that he was stirring up trouble. “Tell him why I won’t be creating this bond with one of the other werewolves.”
Noah looked enquiringly at Derek.
Derek sighed. “It can’t be with one of the others, because they’re all either in committed, serious relationships, or want to be free to enter into one if they find someone. The reason that matters is…” He paused to glare at Stiles.
“Go on, Big Guy, tell him.”
Derek sighed again. “Because the integration ceremony is only usually used to create bonds for couples who aren’t interested in using sex to commit to each other.”
“I have to agree with Stiles on this one,” Noah said. “It sounds a lot like a marriage to me.” He sat back in his chair as he thought that over. “What if either of you wants to start a relationship?”
Derek shrugged. “We won’t be able to. Not without shattering the bond first. By the time it becomes a factor, the Alpha pack should already have left. Stiles assures me he can hold off for that long.”
“It’ll be hard, but I’ll try to hold off the hordes lining up to defile my nubile flesh,” Stiles agreed, sounding a little bitter.
“What about you, Derek?”
Derek shrugged again, looking uncomfortable. “It won’t be a problem.”
Noah very much doubted that Derek would have any trouble finding bed partners, so there was clearly something else going on there. Still, Derek’s sex life wasn’t any of his business. “Right. Are there any downsides? What will this bond be like? How hard will it be to break?”
“We don’t actually know much about it,” Stiles admitted. “It’s not a common ritual. Most werewolf and non-werewolf pairings are sexual in nature, and when they get married, it’s a whole ’nother ceremony. Involving biting. My research hasn’t turned up any examples of what happens when couples who’ve done this other ritual break the bond. Either it never happened, or it wasn’t exciting enough to record. Still, most supernatural bonds can be broken easily when all active parties agree to do it.”
Noah stared at his son. “You want to do a bonding ritual, but you’re not sure what the results will be? Or how to end it?”
“It’s not ideal,” Stiles said defensively, “but since my other options are to either start a sexual relationship with one of the wolves in the pack, or maybe die, I thought that this didn’t sound so bad.”
Noah pushed his chair back and got to his feet so that he could pace. “Why not take the bite? Not that I’m advocating for that solution, but it must be something that you’ve considered.” He glanced at Derek. “I’m assuming that if you’re willing to do this ritual to make Stiles part of your pack, you’d also be willing to make him into a werewolf.”
Derek nodded. “Stiles has been welcome to the bite at any time, but has expressed a…disinclination to take that step.”
Stiles spread his hands. “I don’t have a problem with werewolves, and being one wouldn’t be the end of the world, but all in all, I prefer staying the way I am. Besides, there’s always a risk that the bite wouldn’t take.”
Derek’s glower deepened, but he didn’t add anything. Noah didn’t know if that was supposed to be disapproval of the idea of Stiles taking the bite, or offence that the bite wasn’t something that Stiles wanted. Derek was always hard to read.
“This whole thing just seems a little specious,” Noah said, wondering why his son always had to do things the hard way. “There must be other non-wolf members of packs that aren’t necessarily in committed relationships. Isn’t this rushing into things a bit? A marriage of convenience can’t be the only solution to the problem.”
Stiles face lit up. “See? I told you, Sourwolf, it’s totally a werewolf wedding.”
Noah leaned against the table and gave Stiles his best ‘don’t fuck with me’ stare. “Your mind is obviously already made up. Why exactly did you come to me about it?”
“Well, duh,” Stiles replied. “If I’m getting werewolf married, then I want you at the ceremony. The full moon is next Saturday, so we’re going to do the ritual on Sunday.”
Noah pinched the bridge of his nose. Surely every parent didn’t have to go through this kind of thing? Unfortunately, trying to stop Stiles from doing something once he’d made his mind up to do it was almost impossible. Short of knocking him out and putting him on a flight to Australia, there wasn’t much he could do but support this madness. “Send me the details. Let me know if you need me to do anything special, or bring something.”
Stiles beamed at him, getting to his feet and poking Derek until he got up too. “You’re the best, daddio! We’re not going to have a fancy reception or anything, but a big pot of the famous Stilinksi Stew would be great.”
“We’re a bit short on venison,” Noah pointed out.
“Snookums here can take care of that.” Stiles gestured towards Derek. “It’ll be a fun exercise with the puppies.”
Noah raised his eyebrows in Derek’s direction. Derek just nodded. Well, at least they’d balance each other out in the talking department. “It’s been a while since I’ve made that stew;. I’ll need to pick up some Madeira and some juniper berries.” He watched as Stiles and Derek had some sort of unspoken conversation held entirely with facial expressions. By the looks of it, Stiles was encouraging Derek to do something.
Derek sighed and stepped forward. “I’d like you to consider becoming an official pack Elder,” he said in the same tone he might have used to request the removal of an ingrown toenail.
Stiles smiled proudly, patting Derek on the shoulder. “There, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” He leaned in and gave Noah a quick hug. “I’ll have Peter send you the pamphlet he’s been putting together. It’ll give you an idea of what your duties are, as well as the perks and privileges that pack elders generally enjoy.”
Noah hugged Stiles back and then watched, stunned, as his only son practically shoved Derek out the door, talking the whole time.
“Thanks for that, Dad! I’ll email you the times etc. C’mon, Derek. Lynda—you know Lynda, she works weekends at that little bookshop beside the courthouse—said that the O’Sullivans are thinking of selling their place. It’s getting too much for Ryan to keep up, and neither Connor nor Sara are interested in moving back to Beacon Hills. Something about the astronomical death rate, I think. Anyway, Ryan and Jenna are afraid of selling to someone who’ll pull down the house and build apartments or something. I thought we could go see it, see if it would make a good pack-house…” Stiles’ voice was cut off by the slamming of the car door.
Noah snorted. Well, well, well. It looked like Stiles’ latest one-sided love affair wasn’t as unrequited as he’d assumed. A marriage of convenience, was it? He’d give it six months at the outside. And maybe see if Peter was up to laying a few wagers.