Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1027942.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Choose_Not_To_Use_Archive_Warnings, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Peter_Hale/Stiles_Stilinski, Derek_Hale/Stiles_Stilinski
  Character:
      Stiles_Stilinski, Peter_Hale, Derek_Hale, Sheriff_Stilinski
  Additional Tags:
      Video_&_Computer_Games, Bodyswap, Dubious_Consent, Dubious_Morality, Bad
      Touch, Rape/Non-con_Elements, Sexual_Coercion
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-11-02 Updated: 2013-11-08 Chapters: 6/30 Words: 4593
****** The Hale Trap ******
by Packed
Summary
     Stiles doesn't know what to think about the attention he's getting
     from Peter...or Derek.
     or
     The one where Peter and Derek Hale bodyswap and fight for Stiles'
     attention.
Notes
     Not beta'd and constructive criticism is appreciated.
     Come talk with me on tumblr! Seriously! I need more TW friends. http:
     //demiverve.tumblr.com/
***** Killtacular *****
There has always been something off about Peter. He manages to consistently be
present when Stiles is already uneasy. Or maybe it’s that Stiles can feel Peter
close by and that’s why his heartbeat ticks up and he starts to feel greasy.
Little things like Peter standing a few inches too close, being alone the same
room together, lingering touches of his body that Peter has no business
touching but that aren’t considered off limits by society—the back of his
wrist, his shoulder blade, right above his hip bone. Friendly smiles that reach
Peter’s eyes but don’t seem to reach his heart. Stiles doesn’t actually know if
Peter has a heart—or is capable of the more complicated emotions like caring
and guilt. People always say that dogs aren’t able to feel higher emotions, and
maybe it’s true with Peter, too.
It’s gotten a little worse since Derek acknowledged that Stiles’ research
helped the pack. Peter has been watching how Derek interacts with Stiles and he
seems jealous. Derek had clapped him on the back at a pack meeting for finding
out some details on the Argents and Scott told Stiles later that he saw Peter’s
lip twitch in an aborted snarl. Since Scott pointed it out, Stiles has been
watching Peter, and more often than not, Peter is watching him back.
Stiles had just finished picking up some snacks from the corner mart (you can’t
have a Call of Duty marathon without Reeses and Red Bull) when he started to
feel nervous. He’s a few blocks from his house and it’s dark out, but the
street lamps light up his path well enough and it would be stupid to have a
panic attack walking through Suburbia at 9pm at night. He looks behind him and
there is no one there, but then he hears footsteps on his left and there’s
Peter, just walking beside him.
“Creepy, man. Didn’t see you there.” Stiles laughs awkwardly and turns his head
into his shoulder, surreptitiously wiping the sweat from his upper lip onto his
jacket. “How’s it hanging?” Stiles does a mental face-palm. He always tries to
refrain from anything that could be construed as even vaguely sexual when he is
around Peter, but sometimes he forgets.
Peter smiles softly and shrugs in response, choosing not to rise to the
occasion. Peter’s failure to exploit the opportunity to talk about his penis
only manages to make Stiles more uneasy. He curves his body away from him and
covers the intent of the action by looking at Peter directly. “What’s going
on?”
“I didn’t have anything to do,” Peter replies. Stiles snorts his unsurprise. He
doesn’t see how Peter really has anything to ever do. Peter doesn’t have a job,
his nephew refuses to spend time with him, and Mrs. McCall has already shot him
down five times.
“What do you do most of the time?” Stiles asks, unconsciously loosening up as
they come around the bend and he catches sight of his house. His Dad’s cruiser
is sitting out front and there are muted lights in the living room, suggesting
his dad is home from his shift and is unwinding on the couch.
Peter smiles privately as he walks Stiles up the driveway to the house. “I
manage to find worthwhile ways to spend my time.” They climb up the stairs to
the porch and Stiles looks sideways at Peter, shuffling his feet awkwardly.
“Well, thanks for the walk home?” Stiles tries to smile at him—there’s no
reason to be mean—but it comes out as a half-grimace/half-fake smile. Peter
doesn’t react and Stiles begins to wonder how long two people can maintain eye
contact. This is getting awkward. He drops his head and clears his throat, and
blurts out the first thing that comes to mind. “Want to come in?” When Peter
still doesn’t react, Stiles smiles an uncomfortable smile and moves to open the
door. His hand hesitates on the handle. “Dad should be in the den, so if you
just stick to the left and go up the stairs he shouldn’t see you. My bedroom is
the first door on the right. I’ll..uh..meet you up there.”
Peter looks slyly over at Stiles and mumbles “I’ve been to your bedroom before,
Stiles” before he slinks up the stairs. Stiles frowns and tries to remember
when THAT happened. He’s pretty sure he would remember but they did have a
short pack meeting up there once. Stiles can’t say for sure, but Peter could
have been there.
Sliding into the kitchen as fast as he can, Stiles panics and grabs some beef
jerky--what if he needs to bribe Peter?—and peeks in on his dad. His dad’s
attention is so riveted to the screen Stiles actually has to walk in front of
it to get acknowledged. “I’m going to play Call of Duty for about 5 more hours.
What do you say you stop watching the game and join me?” Stiles knew that the
most surefire way to get his dad to not bother him is to invite him to bother
him. His dad grunts, moving his whole upper body first to the left, then to the
right, trying to see around Stiles. “Maybe next time.”
Stiles nods and walks out of the room, only to dart up the stairs with enough
enthusiasm to shake up the Red Bulls in the bag he’s carrying. He doesn’t want
to admit it but he’s curious about Peter. What is he doing here? Specifically,
what is he doing in Stile’s bedroom right now? Peter is laid out and lounging
on his bed when Stiles enters his room. Stiles raises an eyebrow and snorts,
more because finding Peter on his bed was disturbing than because he’s actually
amused. He holds up his bag of goodies and waggles his eyebrows, trying to
cajole himself out of his unease. “Want to get murdered at CoD?”
Peter laughs and says “Killing Spree. Killtacular. Killimanjaro” in the creepy
deep voice of a game announcer as he sits up and grabs a controller.
“NO! THAT’S HALO!” Stiles grabs his pillow and hits Peter with it. Peter grabs
the pillow and pulls it toward him, so Stiles lets go. He turns the console on
and starts up the game, laughing. It surprises him, but Peter’s actually pretty
good. Then again, maybe it shouldn’t surprise him that Peter is good at killing
people.
They play split screen for a few hours, and Stiles only notices Peter noticing
him a couple of times. Like right now. Peter’s pupils are dilated and nostrils
flare. Stiles wonders what he’s smelling and pauses the game to ask him. Peter
slips off of the bed and puts his controller down apologetically. “I’ll see you
tomorrow.” He smiles and leaves the house quietly, leaving Stiles to wonder why
he would see Peter tomorrow and why he left.
A minute and a half after Peter left, Stiles is watching Derek unfold himself
from Stiles’ window. Derek stills before he’s stood up completely. “Peter was
here,” he says, in a quiet, disbelieving voice. “Why.”
***** On the Backs of Camels *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Stiles manages to shrug off Derek's imposing demeanor "We were just hanging
out."
Derek stalks to the other side of the bed, his body posture imposing. "Since
when do you hang out with my uncle." His voice is flat, not a question even
though it should be and Stiles interprets it as just a touch pouty. Stiles
leaps onto the bed and bounces up and down, reaching out and tugging on the arm
of Derek’s jacket, eventually using it to lower him into an awkward sitting
position on the bed. "Since he became an awesome ally at CoD! You should have
seen it Derek, he was so sneaky and just comes out of nowhere. Like the awkward
zombie ninja he is." Stiles clams his mouth shut, because he realizes he has
been babbling, but he can't really be blamed if he goes off on tangents to
distract himself from the man in front of him, sitting ramrod straight on the
edge of the bed. "What do you need?"
Derek makes an effort not to show how much the question bothers him but his
scowl deepens all the same. Does he have to need something to stop by Stiles'
house? The silence grows longer, stretching out to the point where it feels
like it might snap. “Doyouwanttogohikingwithmethisweekend?” Derek lets out in a
breath, narrowing his concentration to the fascinating posters Stiles has all
over the wall.
Stiles cocks his head a little, hold back a startled laugh that would most
certainly be taken the wrong way, and instead lets out a lop-sided smile.
“Definitely! Do you have any place in mind? I’ve been wanting to go back to the
State Forest on the other side of the preserve for a while now.” Happy about
spending the day hiking alone with Derek, he doesn’t notice the tendrils of
heat creep up his neck and spread onto his face right away. What he does notice
is Derek noticing, his eyes softer for once and his whole body leaning subtly
toward Stiles. Unfortunately that just flusters Stiles more, so he does what
he’s good at and avambles. It’s a word he’s made up that means avoidance
rambling. “I can pack us lunches and everything. And I just picked up that
CamelBak at Finstock’s garage sale, so we’ll definitely stay hydrated and
stuff. I mean, not that you need a backpack to be hydrated, you can just wolf
out and lap up puddles. But me, I’m human and rainwater just doesn’t have the
same filtered taste.” By the time he looks up from his jeans, his blush has
mercifully subsided and Derek edging toward the window. Stiles wants to spend
more time with him and plan out exactly where they’ll go, what trails they’ll
hike, but before he can suggest it Derek has nodded at him and tugged his
window open, escaping into the night.
He leans backward onto his headboard, huffing a little in frustration and
managing to smile like a cat who got the cream at the same time. Did Derek just
ask him out on a date? And possibly agree to a picnic in the woods?! Stiles
suddenly lets out a whoop and pumps his arms in the air in victory. He’s been
slowly working on Hale for a long time. And now everything seems like it might
start finally coming together.
----
Two days later, on Saturday, Derek picks him up at 6:30 in the morning. Stiles
thinks it’s a little excessive, but there is something exciting and a little
romantic at getting ready in the quiet of his room and slipping out of his
house before his dad’s alarm clock goes off. When he sees Derek, an attractive
grey figure leaning up against his Camaro in the dark, he shoulders his
Camelbak and tries to swallow his roiling emotions back into his body’s core.
His whole body hums in anticipation and he swings the other pack he was holding
into Derek, catching him in the gut. Stiles’ mouth twerks in a playful smile.
“Come on, we’re late.”
Chapter End Notes
     TUMBLR. http://demiverve.tumblr.com/
***** Congress *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
The drive doesn’t take long and before either of them breaks the oddly
comfortable, relaxed silence, they’re pulling into the park. They’ve hiked for
over 5 miles before Derek says his first words of the morning. “You’re quiet.”
A wry smile works its way across Stiles’ lips. “It’s nice, doing this with
you.” Derek eyes him without turning to face him and looks down at his feet
immediately when he sees that Stiles is watching him. The trail narrows and
Derek takes the lead, leaving Stiles to contemplate his back. Stiles’ can feel
his heart beating in his chest and he doesn’t know exactly when it happened,
but he knows that their relationship has changed a little. Unfortunately, that
means that where before the silence was companionable and comfortable, it is
now charged and expectant. Stiles can feel a prickling sensation all over his
skin that is acting as some sort of hypersensitive Derek-compass. He could
close his eyes and still know exactly where Derek Hale’s body is in
relationship to his own by the sensation alone. Naturally, as Stiles is trying
to figure out how he wants to close the gap between them and if he actually
wants to, his shoe briefly gets caught underneath a root and he goes flailing,
grabbing frantically for Derek’s shoulders/backpack/arms/waist/anything. His
hands find purchase at the curve of Derek’s hips and he narrowly saves himself.
As Stiles pulls himself upright, his focus narrows to his fingertips and where
they are pressed into Derek’s waist with only Derek’s thin t-shirt as a border
between their skin. It takes him an unreasonable amount of time to realize that
he has been holding onto Derek for too long, that they’ve stopped walking, and
that Derek is standing stock-still in front of him. He waits uncertainly for a
couple more seconds, until he’s sure that Derek isn’t going to move and through
his inaction is going to make them stay this way forever. Stiles steels himself
and makes a decision, slowly flattening his palms until both of his hands are
flush and hot on Derek’s sides. Stiles’ catches his own tongue between his lips
because he is nervous and because in every Derek scenario he’s ever had in his
head, Derek was the one driving this. At first, it seems like Derek isn’t going
to react to the touch at all, but then Stiles feels him, gently leaning in to
the pressure. And pulling out of his grip. And literally running away.
“DEREK!” Stiles yells after him, too surprised and horrified and disappointed
to follow. Derek keeps running and Stiles is still standing on the trail,
looking after him and breathing a little too hard.
------
Derek had just begun to truly process Stiles’ hands on him when his nostrils
flared, picking up a troubling and familiar mixture of scents that is so
unexpected, out here in the woods with Stiles, that he bolts toward it. It was
Peter, gray magic, excitement, and triumph.
He doesn’t hear Stiles calling after him, or the break in his voice.
_____
Peter hears Derek crashing toward him before he smells him—the mixture of
leather, earth, grief, and Stiles that always heralded his nephew. He stands
lazily from the circle he was kneeling in, releasing the fae from his hold. The
tiny seelie creature hovered by Peter’s face making high, pissed-off noises
before slapping Peter across the face and zipping away, sticking out his
pointed tongue.
Chapter End Notes
     Posted a little shorter than intended. Also: writing is a lot harder
     and more time consuming than I had imagined. I think you can tell
     from the way I swap tenses that I have never written anything before.
     Come talk with me on tumblr! Seriously! I need more TW friends. http:
     //demiverve.tumblr.com/
***** Mantra *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Derek slows to a threatening walk when he reaches the clearing, stalking toward
Peter. Peter holds his hands up in a placating gesture as Derek’s eyes flash
red. Derek barely manages to grit out “What are you doing here?” without
growling. Peter backs away from him, licking his lips “Believe me, I didn’t
know you would be on a date..” Derek can taste Peter’s unease transforming into
sharp excitement on the air and it makes him feel nervous. He takes another
step toward Peter and all of his uncle’s anxiety disappears. A slow, sly grin
makes its way across Peter’s face as Derek realizes that he can’t move
forward—or to the side, or back. He’s trapped in some sort of magical barrier.
Looking down, he notices for the first time the circle that Peter led him into
and he lets out a roar that reverberates off of the barrier and doesn’t seem to
reach the forest outside.
Peter laughs delightedly at Derek’s frustration but his voice is low and
dangerous when he says “You shouldn’t be going on dates with things that are
mine, Derek.” Derek has the audacity to look confused for a second before his
eyes widen. Peter can practically see Derek repressing the urge to say Stiles’
name.
The air inside the fae’s circle is getting thick, making it hard for Derek to
move or even breathe. Peter waits until he’s pretty sure that Derek won’t be
able to attack him before stepping inside the ring with him, roughly grabbing
his Alpha’s neck with his hand. The charged air and the searing point of
connection between their bodies become overwhelming after a few short seconds.
The air inside of the circle flashes white and both of them drop to the ground
disrupting the circle.
Derek is the first to recover and he rolls quickly on top of Peter, straddling
him and holding him to the ground. He grabs Peter’s neck and he gives an order
as his eyes flash red “Don’t you ever touch him again.” He emphasizes his words
by closing his claws around Peter’s neck and shoving him further into the
ground. “You can’t tell anyone about this.” His eyes fade back to their usual
shade, but there is something terribly, terribly wrong.

Peter, who has been lying stock-still underneath his Alpha’s body, roars and
fights back, struggling to get out of Derek’s grasp. Derek loses it and
savagely begins attacking the weaker beta with his free hand, scratching for
his soft belly while closing Peter’s throat with his other hand. Peter, who had
been scrambling to get free, changes tactics when he realizes the Alpha has
switched from restraining him to trying to kill him. He manages to hit Derek
once before Derek growls out “Lie still” and Peter’s body reacts to the order.
His vision is graying around the edges and he can’t breathe. He screams in pain
and rage as the wounds Derek is inflicting spray blood all over the forest
floor.
Stiles screams when he runs into the clearing and sees Derek biting,
scratching, killing Peter. He launches himself at Derek, getting a forearm
around his neck and pulling him back, hitting Derek in the face with his other
hand as hard as he can. Peter isn’t moving and his eyes are open. “GET THE FUCK
OFF OF HIM! GET THE FUCK OFF OF HIM!” Stiles screams, fingernails raking
through the skin on Derek’s face. Derek stops tearing at Peter with his claws
but doesn’t release his neck. Stiles swings around and pushes his body in
between Derek and Peter, grabbing individual fingers and pulling them off of
Peter’s neck. Once Derek’s hand has been removed, Stiles stands up and pushes
Derek back, beating on his solid chest with both hands curled into fists. Once
Derek is over 15 feet away from Peter’s body, Stiles screams “GET THE FUCK OFF
OF HIM” his voice breaking at the end. Stiles turns back to Peter and joins him
in the dirt, tipping over the edge. He cries uncontrollably and repeats his
mantra of “getoffofhimgetoffofhimgetoffofhim” while leaning over Peter’s body.
Panic seizes Stiles’ chest and he keens, throwing himself onto Peter’s chest.
“It’s okay. It’s okay. He isn’t going to hurt you. It’s okay. Please be okay.”
Peter doesn’t do anything to respond but close his eyes.
Chapter End Notes
     Come talk with me on tumblr! Seriously! I need more TW friends. http:
     //demiverve.tumblr.com/
***** 2-0 Monocryl *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Peter isn't healing. After a long, long time, Stiles' looks up and locks eyes
with Derek, who is still standing exactly where he was pushed to. He looks a
little confused and has calmed down from angry to just upset. Stiles gives
Derek a look that means this isn't over and commands Derek to help him.
Derek advances on them, then leans over and picks Peter up with cold
functionality. Stiles swallows and locks his knees when he realizes that Derek
is tilting Peter toward his chest to make sure none of Peter's important parts
fall out of the massive hole in his abdominal wall. Stiles' folds in half and
wretches for a minute. After he pulls himself together, he realizes Derek has
left already to take Peter to the car. He trots after them, wiping the back of
his hand across his mouth.
The car ride to the Hale house is very quiet. Stiles sits in the back of the
Camaro with Peter, listening to his uneven breathing and carding his fingers
through Peter's hair. Derek doesn't say anything and Stiles' doesn't look at
him.
--
Stiles shuts the door to Peter's room softly, letting out a long sigh and
thanks Deaton for his help before walking him out. He pads to the kitchen to
grab himself a glass of water and isn't surprised to find Derek sitting at the
table, his head in his hands. "He's going to be okay, you know. Deaton said it
will take him a few days to recover because you're an Alpha, but his internal
organs didn't sustain irrepairable harm. Deaton said that was only the fourth
time he's had to use stiches in a werewolf, Derek. What the hell happened?"
Derek doesn't look up as he replies. Each of the sentences he says are short
and explain nothing while seeming like they explain everything. "I smelled him
from the trail, and he smelled angry. He was running toward us and all of my
instincts screamed at me to protect you. He attacked me and I fought him off
but he kept trying. When I finally had him down, I just lost it. I kept
thinking about how he could have hurt you and ...I lost control." His voice is
quiet as he continues, "I'm sorry. I'm glad he's going to be okay."
Stiles swallows back a little noise from deep in his throat, startled by how
serious Derek sounded about protecting him from Peter. Every instinct in him
wants to comfort Derek , so he skirts the table and leans over Derek's back,
pressing himself up against his friend. He doesn't see the small, oily smile
that dances across Derek's lips.
---
Peter doesn't wake up that night. Werewolve bodies are pretty good at healing,
but it takes a lot of resources and honestly, tissue regeneration knocks it out
of them. After Derek caught Stiles sitting on the edge of Peter's bed for the
first time, he told Stiles that he didn't want him to be near Peter. Stiles'
eyes had widened defiantly but the fight went out of him when Derek told him it
was because he was worried about Peter attacking him when he wakes up. Stiles'
protests that this is all a misunderstanding and swears that Peter would never
actually hurt him. Derek smiles softly to himself and asks for something that
is realistic--since he can tell that Stiles isn't going to stop visiting Peter
completely. Stiles agrees to keep the door to the room open and only visit with
Peter when Derek is home--so Derek could respond quickly to Stiles getting
attacked.
---
Around 11pm, the night of the hiking-trip-turned-disembowlment-mistake, Stiles
feels Derek's eyes on him as he walks through the house. Derek is sitting in
the dark on the downstairs couch, where there is a beautiful view of the forest
through a big bay window. Stiles fleetingly wishes he had waited to change into
his sleep pants, because they don't feel like actual clothes and actually make
him feel a little exposed. He stands in front of Derek like a startled deer,
wondering if it would be too obvious if he changed into pants. Stiles cuts his
losses and joins Derek on the downstairs couch, curling his feet up underneath
him and hugging a pillow to his chest.
Stiles moves around on the couch until he is facing Derek. "Are you okay?"
Derek nods, then grabs the back of Stiles' neck and pulls him over, off-
balancing him so that the boy ends up on his side, with his head on Derek's
lap. Stiles heartrate skyrockets and he tenses, but nothing else happens. The
day takes its toll on both of them, and Stiles begins falling asleep. Derek
rubs Stiles' back with one hand, and Stiles is too sleepy to freak out about
it. For Derek, the night drags on, but the next thing Stiles' knows is it's
morning.
Chapter End Notes
     Come talk with me on tumblr! Seriously! I need more TW friends. http:
     //demiverve.tumblr.com/
***** Release *****
Chapter Notes
     Please note that this fic has been updated to explicit and additional
     warnings/tags have been added.
      
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Overall, Peter thinks things are going pretty well. Derek is out of commission
upstairs, confused and injured in Peter’s body. Derek has only managed
consciousness for periods of 10 minutes or less, and he hasn’t been able to
speak coherently yet. His body has done some impressive healing, but the wounds
were inflicted by an Alpha, Peter thought smugly. Being ‘Derek’ is a lot more
fun than Peter thought it was going to be. He feels great—he is so much more
powerful as an alpha. He hasn’t had a chance to try out his alpha form yet, but
he can’t wait to shift into a full wolf. As a beta, he always felt like part of
himself was missing, and that part was pure canid.
The situation with Stiles seems like it is going to be so much easier. He can
smell that Stiles wants him (well, wants Derek’s body) . Stiles is much more
tactile with him—over the course of the night, Stiles just kept snuggling up to
him. Stiles is a heavy sleeper, and he was exhausted, so Peter had the chance
to rub him all over through his thin clothes. He’d coaxed the boy to hardness
four separate times, but he’d only allowed himself to come once, because Stiles
had stirred with the movement, despite his careful silence and aborted thrusts.
Peter had come quickly, looking down at the boy’s sweet sleeping face resting
on his thigh, not four inches away from Peter’s cock. After he came, Peter’s
cock tried to twitch to attention again. While most of his come had been caught
by his hand, a few drops had gotten onto Stiles’ face and one had made it onto
his lips. Peter’s eyes flashed red as he lapped and sucked his seed from his
hand. When he was done, his saliva slickened thumb ran over Stiles’ cheek and
bottom lip, removing the come so Stiles wouldn’t notice it in the morning. But
Peter could still smell it, and his wolf swelled with pride. Stiles had let out
a soft groan and burrowed his face in to Peter’s crotch, ensuring a sleepless
night.
In the morning, Stiles’ became aroused about 10 minutes before he awoke. Peter
sat there and inhaled the air like a dying man would water. He even risked
running his hand over Stiles erection twice, and was rewarded by a dab of
precome leaking through the boy’s pajama pants. He tried to think of things to
stop himself from becoming too hard, because Stiles’ head was still in his lap.
When Stiles’ breathing finally signaled he was becoming aware, Peter was ready
for it. His head was already resting on the arm of the couch and he closed his
eyes and feigned sleep. He thought about everything he had seen, smelled, heard
and tasted over the last 8 hours and was easily able to bring himself to full
hardness. Stiles made a quiet, confused noise before going very, very still.
Peter can feel his cock hitting the outside of Stiles’ cheek through his pants
and can hear the boy lick his lips. There is some rustling and a very soft
groan, then the unmistakable sound of skin-on-skin. Peter struggles to stay
believably ‘asleep’, exhaulting in Stiles’ reaction. He knows that if he ‘woke
up’ and their eyes locked, that he could get Stiles to suck his dick. But for
Peter, this isn’t just about the sex or the release. It’s about getting Stiles
to want him as badly as Peter had wanted Stiles. Peter needs Stiles to be
obsessing about him and begging him for it. Peter waits.
Chapter End Notes
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