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The club pulsed with a life of its own, a heartbeat of bass and colored lights that washed over the crowd in waves of crimson and gold. Scott had never cared much for places like this—too many people, scents, and sounds that made his wolf itch. But tonight, none of that mattered. Tonight, the world had narrowed to the warmth of Stiles' body pressed against his, the way his best friend's hips moved in a rhythm that was both awkward and endearing, and the smile that had been plastered on the other boy's face ever since they walked through the doors of Jungle.
"This place feels very different without a Kanima rampaging through it."
Scott laughed and wrapped his arms around Stiles, pulling him closer as the pulsing lights of Jungle reflected off of the boy's whiskey-brown eyes.
This was their first official date as boyfriends. The label, still new and delicate, fit them so perfectly that it was as if it had always belonged there.
Scott put his hands on Stiles's waist and curled his fingers into the back of the other boy's shirt, pulling him closer as they swayed in a small pocket of space they had carved out for themselves. Then the song shifted into something slower, more sensual, and Scott let his forehead rest against Stiles'.
"This is perfect."
"You're just saying that because I haven't stepped on your feet yet."
"I'm saying that because I'm here with you."
The simple honesty in those words made Stiles' cheeks flush, even in the dim light. He reached up, his fingers threading into the hair at the nape of Scott's neck, and pulled him into a soft kiss.
The world around them faded into a blur of sound and color—leaving only the sensation of lips moving together and the gentle pressure of hands exploring familiar territory.
Everything was perfect...until Stiles opened his eyes and his whole body stiffened up.
"Stiles? What's wrong?"
Stiles didn't answer. He continued to stare at a spot over Scott's shoulder, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape. Scott turned, following the line of his sight across the crowded room and felt his jaw hit the floor as well.
There, under a cascade of purple lights, was Sheriff Noah Stilinski.
He'd swapped his uniform for a dark button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, his usual stern expression replaced by a relaxed, almost boyish grin.
Wrapped in his arms, their bodies moving together with an ease that suggested familiarity, was none other than Peter Hale.
Peter had one hand resting on Noah's hip, while the other was toying with the buttons on the man's shirt. They were dancing in a slow, intimate manner...gazing at each other in a way that made them completely oblivious to the two wide-eyed teenagers watching them from across the room.
"Is that..."
"My dad dancing with Peter 'formerly dead and still very much psychotic werewolf' Hale? Yeah...yeah it is..."
Peter leaned in, whispering something in Noah's ear that made the Sheriff laugh—a genuine, unguarded laugh that Stiles had only heard a handful of times in his life. Noah's hand slid up the other man's chest, resting over his heart, and the gesture was so tender, so intimate, that watching it felt like an intrusion.
"I think I'm going to be sick..."
"Hey, look at me," Scott said as he gently grabbed Stiles's face and guided it away from the scene," everything's going to be alright...just take a deep breath."
"Scott, that's my dad, with Peter of all people! How—when—why?"
"I don't know," Scott said softly, his thumbs brushing over Stiles' cheekbones, "but we'll figure it out together...after we finish our date."
"You still want to keep dancing after seeing THAT?!"
"I want to be with you. Whatever's going on with your dad and Peter... we'll deal with it. But right now, I just want to dance with my boyfriend."
The word boyfriend cut through the chaos in Stiles’s mind. He let out a long breath, relaxed his shoulders, and leaned back into Scott's embrace.
"Okay, okay...but if I end up seeing something that'll permanently scar me, you're paying for my therapy."
Scott laughed and pulled Stiles closer, their bodies swaying again as the music swelled around them.
***********
Across the room, Peter's ice-blue eyes swept the dance floor, catching on a pair of familiar figures with an almost predatory precision. His lips curled into that signature smirk of his as he leaned in and whispered something into Noah's ear—making the sheriff freeze mid-step.
Noah turned slowly, meeting his son's gaze with a mixture of surprise, embarrassment, and resignation. He wondered if maybe he should back away and pretend that he and Stiles never saw each other.
Peter, of course, had no such restraint.
He extracted himself from Noah's arms with practiced grace and began weaving through the dancers, dragging a reluctant Sheriff behind him.
"Well, well, well,” Peter said as they approached, his voice cutting through the bass like a knife. “I believe congratulations are in order.”
He looked at Scott and Stiles's joined hands before turning back to Noah.
"Looks like you were wrong, Sheriff...Stiles can definitely be gay dressed like that.”
Stiles’s face proceeded to go through an impressive spectrum of colors.
"Dressed like what? I’m wearing a perfectly normal shirt—“
“You’re wearing a shirt with a cartoon wolf howling at the moon, Stiles,” Scott interjected gently, though his eyes were fixed on Peter with wariness.
“It’s ironic! And sentimental!”
Noah rubbed the back of his neck, looking anywhere but at his son.
"Stiles…listen, this isn't–I mean, I was going to tell you—"
"When did you start dating Peter Hale?!"
Peter tilted his head, feigning contemplation.
"Which time?"
"Dad,“ Stiles repeated, his voice dangerously quiet, "what does he mean by which time?"
Noah let out a heavy breath, the weight of years pressing down on his shoulders. He looked older suddenly, the lines around his eyes deeper, and there was a vulnerability there that Stiles had rarely seen.
"Stiles... before your mother... before Claudia and I got married, we... we both saw Peter, separately...then after we got married, we saw him together.
Stiles felt Scott's thumb trace soothing circles on the back of his hand, but his mind was reeling. His mom and dad were in a throuple? With Peter? The pieces didn't fit–They couldn't fit!
"You're telling me that my mom knew Peter?"
"Quite well,actually. We we're childhood friends long before we became lovers. Claudia and I shared everything together,"he looked at Noah with a fond expression,"and I do mean everything."
"But then your mom got sick,and things started to fall apart.I was constantly working to cover the medical bills and Peter was fighting with Talia about giving Claudia the bite. We knew it was futile,but he didn't want to stop trying. The night Claudia died, I tried to reach him, only to get the call about the fire...I thought he was dead,"Noah whispered as his voice cracked on the last word,"I mourned him, Stiles...I mourned both of them."
"Why don't I remember any of this? Wouldn't I have noticed having what tantamounts to a third parent?"
"That would be my sister's fault. She thought it prudent that you not be exposed to werewolves until you were old enough to be entrusted with the secret." Peter looked at Stiles then, and there was an untold grief in his eyes that was hard to fathom,"but make no mistake, I considered you to be my pup as much as you were theirs."
Stiles's eyes were wet, and Scott gently brushed the tears away with his thumb before turning towards Noah.
"So when he came back... you just... picked up where you left off?"
"Not exactly...when Peter reached out a couple months ago, we had a lot to talk through–including everything that went down while he was feral. It's been a process, but we've managed to find our way back to each other."
Stiles,” Peter said, his tone low enough that only Noah and the boys could hear, “I’m not going to pretend I’m a good person, and I’m not looking for your forgiveness. I don’t deserve it—God knows I’ve done enough to make sure of that. I simply want you to understand where I'm coming from and allow me to have the chance to be with the man I love.That’s all I'm asking...
Noah’s hand found Peter’s automatically, and the Sheriff gave it a small, grounding squeeze. For the first time in his life, Stiles saw Peter Hale look almost… human. Not the predator lurking at the edges of the Beacon Hills shadows. Just a man, raw and stripped of his armor, standing beside his father with a tremor of hope in his expression.
Stiles looked at Scott, who met his gaze with steady, unwavering support, before letting out a shaky laugh.
"This is so incredibly weird, and I'm going to need a lot of time and possibly therapy to process everything...but if my mom and dad could see the good in you, Peter, then maybe I can too."
Noah stepped forward and pulled Stiles into a fierce embrace.
"I love you, son."
"I love you too,Dad...even if your taste in men is questionable."
When they pulled apart, Noah wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, then turned to Scott.
"Take care of him."
"Always."
Peter took Noah's hand, and the two older men dissappeared back into the crowd.
"Well," Stiles said as he leaned into the Scott," that was definitely not on my bingo card for tonight."
Scott just laughed and wrapped his arms around him.
"Neither was our first official date, but here we are."
Yeah, here we are..."
They swayed in each other’s arms once more, as the club lights continued to flash around them...illuminating both a love that had endured through the years and one that had blossomed anew.