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Keep a Trick up Your Sleeve

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“Thanks for letting me draw all over you,” Stiles said in an amused tone.

“To be entirely honest, I assumed it was a euphemism when you asked,” Peter replied, turning the page of his book. He was laying on his stomach on his couch, with Stiles straddling his hips and carefully drawing symbols on his back.

“Aw, poor thing. We’re not doing anything until after Scott’s meeting, I don’t want anything getting smudged or wiped off.”

“I seem to remember someone explicitly saying you weren’t coming.”

“No, he said I couldn’t come with them,” Stiles said, making Peter smirk at his obvious frustration, “Because I’m a fragile human you can’t look after myself. Like I haven’t been looking after him most of our lives. Honestly.”

“Well, I for one appreciate the effort you put into defending our territory despite the failures of our Alphas,” Peter said with amusement. He really did appreciate it, and tracking down a threat Scott had let go and watching Stiles remove them was one of the greatest joys he had.

“They’re doing better,” Stiles said absently, his focus returning to his craft, “Anything useful in there?”

“Not particularly,” Peter answered, “Witches are too versatile. They’re really just humans with some extra power, so they vary as much as people do. There’s very few certainties, unlike most creatures who have at least a few generally expected behaviours.”

“Right, like werewolves being territorial and vampires avoiding the sun.”

“Precisely. Which will likely be used against us in this case, as far as they know our outlier is Lydia.”
“Because she’s a banshee?”

“Yes, they’re slightly rarer, and don’t usually align themselves with a pack. Of course that doesn’t help us much since our banshee is still skittish of exploring her powers.”

“She’s getting better.”

“Regardless they’ll know how to take on a werewolf pack and a couple of hunters.”

“You sound a bit nervous,” Stiles said amusedly.

“I’ve had more than one encounter with witches that ended exceptionally poorly,” Peter replied with a small huff, “Ones like this, invading territory and starting fights, they just want to fling their magic around and prove they’re the most powerful. They’re going to look down on us because we’re werewolves, we can’t wield magic.”

“Ah, so you’re just annoyed because Derek warned you to stay quiet so you can’t sass back,” Stiles said with a laugh as he sat back to look over his work, “Ok, that should do it.”

“What exactly will it be doing?” Peter asked curiously.

“That’s for me to know and you to find out,” Stiles said with a smirk as he slid off Peter so he could sit up, careful not to lean back on the couch.

He may be the only member of the pack aware that Stiles was learning magic, but Stiles still liked to have a few tricks up his sleeve, so he only told Peter bits and pieces of what he was doing. It was quite interesting to watch actually, since Stiles was doing everything self-taught because he didn’t trust Deaton as far as he could throw him.

Peter, of course, leant forward to draw him into a kiss, because he loved that confident expression on Stiles’ face. Stiles kissed back, eager as ever, only to pull away when Peter’s hands began to drift.

“Not while you’re covered in magic symbols,” he said in a warning tone, tapping Peter on the nose, “Now, give me your left wrist.”

“I’m beginning to regret allowing this,” Peter said, even as he willingly put his wrist in the teen’s hand.

“I’m sure you’ll stop regretting it if I actually use them,” Stiles replied as he focused his attention on drawing some kind of rune on Peter’s wrist.

“So not just passive protection spells then? Finally coming out to the pack?”

“Well, I was thinking coming out about us pretty much prepared me for any lectures they decide to give me.”

“Yes, they were quite melodramatic about it. Derek threatened to kill me again.”

“Erica high fived me and said she was glad someone was tapping that,” Stiles said with a chuckle, letting Peter’s wrist go and beginning to draw a matching mark on his own.

“Ah, that explains the leering.”

“Right? I’d be worried about Boyd getting jealous but I think half the reason he’s so mellow is he’s always getting some.”

“Teenagers,” Peter said, rolling his eyes.

“Don’t talk about your boyfriend like that,” Stiles said, a little absently, inspecting his wrist, “Ok. Wrist.”

Peter offered his wrist again and Stiles lined them up so the two symbols were pressed against each other and he was gripping Peter’s forearm. Peter followed his lead and gripped his forearm. Then he just watched as Stiles closed his eyes and took a deep breathe. Quiet words fell from his lips as the scent of ozone began to fill the room, and that unique scent of Stiles doing magic that always made Peter’s blood rush just a little. They’d had more than one very active night after Stiles had been practicing in his apartment.

The symbols Stiles had drawn began to grow warm. Peter carefully didn’t react, and held back a sigh of relief when the warmth didn’t turn into real heat, it just stayed a comforting warmth. A slight golden glow came from their wrists, and likely from Peter’s back. When Stiles opened his eyes they were glowing as well, if only for a moment. Stiles blinked a few times and they were back to their usual, non-glowing gold.

“Get that look off your face Peter,” he said immediately, “No sex till after the witches are dealt with.”

“I don’t know why they think I’m the bad influence,” Peter said teasingly, as Stiles stood from the couch and stretched, “You’re a horrible person.”

“I’m brilliant and I’ve never tried to kill any of them,” Stiles replied easily, before leaning down to give Peter a quick peck, “Give that all a little while to make sure it won’t smudge then put on a shirt.”

“I can’t go show off your skill?”

“Do you want to give the game away before our big show?” Stiles asked with a raised eyebrow, hands moving to rest on the back of the couch and cage Peter in, “I really do think you’ll enjoy it far more than simply showing off a few marks.”

“You really are a dreadful tease,” Peter said, matching Stiles’ smirk and raised eyebrow, “And you know you delight in our displays as much as I do.”

“True,” Stiles agreed easily, “But your wolf-y instincts take it to a different level.”

“Well, at least I have a legitimate excuse.”

“My excuse is that you heal any hickeys I give you and it’s not fair,” Stiles said, moving away with a pout.

“Poor thing,” Peter said with a smirk, reaching over for his shirt.

“You’re not cute,” Stiles said even as he began moving around the kitchen, back to Peter, “I think I’ll get started on dinner while you’re out. Dad’s got a date he thinks I don’t know about.”

“All mine then,” Peter said, prowling towards him.

“Sure, after you’ve washed off,” Stiles said, ducking under him with an amused smile, “Now, if you get seriously hurt, I’ll know, but I’d rather you activate the rune if things start going downhill. Just press it and think of me.”

Peter raised an eyebrow, then lifted his wrist, pressing his opposite thumb against the rune. Stiles eyes seemed to glaze for just a moment before he blinked rapidly, heat rising in his face. Peter smirked.

“Not like that!” he hissed smacking at Peter’s hands, “I was thinking less ‘I’m going to ravage’ and more ‘I’d like some help’.”

“The first sounds more fun,” Peter replied.

“Get out of here,” Stiles said, rolling his eyes, “Go play nice with the Alphas.”

“I’d rather be playing with you.”

“Peter. Go.”

“Fine,” Peter said with a huff, “I’ll go play with Scotty.”

“Nicely, Peter!” Stiles called after him, then felt a wave of intention from his rune, “Do not abuse my power!”


Peter stood quietly in the clearing where the meeting was due to take place. As usual he was a little away from the pack, off to the side where he could watch them all, but still close enough to get involved if he felt the need. Derek and Scott stood side by side with the Beta’s flanking them. It looked pretty good, actually, and Allison was somewhere in the background, arrow likely already notched.

Still, the coven they were meeting was five strong. Peter hated to admit it, but five experienced witches beat their motley pack of six werewolves. Regardless he was letting Scott try his ‘talk it out’ option, partially because he was supposed to respect his Alpha and primarily because he wanted to see what Stiles had in motion for when things went south.

Looked like he was going to see soon.

“But you see, little Alpha,” the head witch said in almost a coo, Peter pressed his rune, “We don’t actually care. This land is rich with energy, and you mutts are barely scrapping the surface of it. I’m afraid if you won’t leave we’re going to have to-”

The witch drifted off at the wind started to rush through the clearing. Then ozone and a familiar, unique scent filled the air and Peter felt a weird, unnatural shift in the air, followed by arms snaking around him.

Stiles was lucky he had such good control of his expression.

“Is there a problem here?” Stiles asked, resting his chin on Peter’s shoulder so he could survey the occupants of the clearing.

“Who are you?” the head witch asked, taking a slight step back before she corrected. All the witch’s looked uncomfortable now, they didn’t like not knowing the new factor. Then again, the pack wasn’t sure either, but they were at least confident Stiles was on their side.

“Stiles,” Stiles replied casually, leaning into Peter’s neck. Peter willingly tilted to give him better access. Everyone here knew what that meant, and the witches had certainly worked out Peter was dangerous and unwilling to submit too just anyone.

“How did you do that?” one of the other witches asked, eyes wide.

“It’s not so hard,” Stiles replied easily, as though this was a perfectly normal occurrence, a small smirk in place, “You know what they say a little spark goes a long way.

The witches inhaled sharply.

“Stiles what are you doing here?” Scott demanded.

“I just wanted to check in, don’t worry I’m not here to interfere in your territory dispute,” Stiles said before his attention turned back to Peter, “I’m making carbonara. I just wanted to make sure you didn’t stay out too long because I’m not going to wait all night for you to wrap up.”

“I’ll try to be home soon,” Peter replied with a fond smile, enjoying the immense confusion from the rest of the clearing.

“OK, I’ll let you get back to it then,” Stiles said, giving him a quick peck, “Oh, and Scott, I don’t care how much you want to spend time with Allison, you have more important things to do. No offense to Allison.”

Scott looked, for a moment, like he might argue before he cringed clearly remembering whatever it was that needed doing.

“Yes Stiles,” he said with a small pout.

“Good, I expect Erica and Isaac still have work to do as well. Derek, you will be helping them if they need it.”

“Yes Stiles,” Derek replied flatly, despite his eye roll.

“Good,” Stiles repeated, “I really do need to go though, I left the stove on. Peter, I’ll see you soon. Alphas, whatever talks you want to have can wait until tomorrow, I’m sure.”

With that said the wind started up again and Peter could feel the weird shift as the air rush to fill Stiles’ now empty place. He was definitely making Stiles spill the beans about that once they were finished here. This was a very new skill. For now though, he put an expectant expression on his face and looked to the other occupants like they’d been discussing the weather.

“Shall we continue then? I’d hate to keep him waiting.”

“Right,” Scott said, clearly trying to get his head back into the meeting while the witches were exchanging frantic looks, “Right, uh…”

“We acted rashly,” the head witch said swiftly, “We apologise for our intrusion. Please assure your Spark that we meant no disrespect. We’ll be off his land before the moon is at its height.”

Scott gaped a little, his confusion plain. Fortunately Derek knew when to jump in.

“We accept your apology and we will make sure he’s informed,” he said, giving the witches clear leave to go, which they did eagerly.

“I’m so confused,” Erica said as they all watched them leave, “Weren’t they going to fight us.”

“They were,” Peter said amusedly, “And they likely would have had the upper hand. They know what we’re capable of. What they won’t do is fight Stiles, who they don’t know, and who clearly showed off some power they don’t understand.”

“Did you know he could do that?” Scott demanded, turning on Peter.

“I can assure you if I knew he could do that we would have already been using it,” Peter said with a scoff, “We don’t feel the need to tell each other everything in our lives.”

“That doesn’t bother you?” Isaac asked, “Freaked me out.”

“Not at all,” Peter said with a shrug, “Now if you don’t mind, I have dinner waiting for me, and by the sound of it you all have homework to do.”

Erica and Isaac both groaned. Scott looked like he wanted to argue but Peter was already leaving. He’d much rather be back with Stiles. He had questions that needed answering. Also, Stiles made amazing carbonara.

When he got up Stiles had two bowls filled with creamy bacon carbonara and a pleased smile on his face.

“It went well?”

“It went spectacularly,” Peter said, practically purred as he approached the teen, “The witches were quite adamant that they’d be off the Spark’s land before midnight. Nothing about the pack, mind.”

“And so Deaton proves himself useful for once,” Stiles said amusedly. He looked proud, and just a little smug, it was a good look in Peter’s mind. “Now stop looking at me like that. We’re going to eat dinner then we can shower and I’ll help you wash off your back.”

“Fine, but if you’re going to make me wait the least you could do is tell me how you did it.”

“Teleporting?”

“Teleporting. Considering most would say it’s impossible.”

“Well, they just haven’t found the right mix of sigils, have they?” Stiles said as they sat at the table with their bowls.

“Did you draw a teleportation spell on my back?”

“Not exactly. I can’t just teleport anywhere, that’s why people say it’s impossible. Spontaneous teleportation to wherever you want? I don’t think so. The sigils act like a, let’s say a landing pad. You can’t just land you’re helicopter wherever, whenever, but with landing pads you’ve got places you can land no problem.”

“You made me a landing pad?” Peter asked like a raised eyebrow.

“Well, kind of. I mean, it was the first time I tried it on a person, and I had to make sure not to actually land on top of you.”

“I wouldn’t mind you on top of me.”

“See, this is why I didn’t explain a head of time. You would have spent the whole time making thinly veiled euphemisms around the pack. Anyway, I just set up the sigils properly, connect myself to them, and magic! I can teleport to that location.”

“You have one of these set up in my apartment?” Peter asked, pausing.

“Yep, and my house, the loft, Scott’s house, school because a ridiculous number of things go down there, and the station.”

“You’re a paranoid little thing.”

“Takes one to know one,” Stiles shot back, dumping his bowl in the sink and heading for the bathroom, “Come on, let’s wash that landing pad off.”