Chapter Text
Stiles was not above instinct.
As much as he, like any human, tried to distance himself from its pull, to cling to ration, he was helpless to fight nature off completely.
Taking another deep inhale of the infant in his lap – the word pup echoing in his mind, and the associated satisfaction rumbling out of his chest in a steady purr – he accepted that he was just an animal.
Human. Animal. Slave to instinct.
He couldn’t say from where the baby came. One moment he was fighting through a pre-heat haze to decide which flavor of Cheez-Its to buy, beating down the part of his brain screaming to buy all of them, and then there was suddenly a small hand tugging at his sweatpants.
Behold, nature’s miracle, a child.
Pup .
Releasing its hold on his pants, the child reached up with the hand not stuck in its mouth and hummed in demand to be held. Stiles knew he shouldn’t pick up a random child, shouldn’t tuck it against his chest and nuzzle its down soft hair. But he was powerless against the drum of instinct beating in his head.
Puppuppuppuppup .
He should have probably looked for the child’s parents in the immediate vicinity, but it was impressive enough that he didn’t leave for the parking lot the moment the baby settled in his arms. It smelled like breast milk and Cheerios.
He stood there in the aisle for a moment, snuffling against the child’s throat and head. The child allowed the attention and giggled when Stiles’ nose pressed against a ticklish spot. When he was satisfied that the baby was sufficiently scented and unharmed, he made his way to customer service to page its parents.
If he was lucky, they wouldn’t show up.
The bored looking woman behind the counter directed him to an adjacent bench with a pointed finger, mumbling unintelligibly over the loudspeaker. He suppressed a satisfied smirk as he sat.
He placed the box of Cheerios he'd nabbed next to himself on the bench and opened it, digging his hand inside and pulling out a handful. He offered one to the pup between pinched fingers. A purr vibrated his chest when a chubby hand accepted the treat, prompting the baby to snuggle closer and Stiles to purr even louder.
The cycle continued, though he couldn’t say for how long. Somewhere between the cereal aisle and sitting down, time had taken on a syrupy quality, flowing just outside of his periphery.
He could hear a commotion around him, but he ignored it in favor of his pup. This was a good pup, a healthy pup, proof of Stiles’ fertility and strength. It didn't matter what happened out there; he’d defend his pup from whatever threat came their way.
A hand suddenly entered their space, reaching for Stiles’ pup. He snarled instinctively and lashed out with his teeth, snapping them a hair's breadth away from the intruding appendage, which yanked back in surprise. He turned his body to sandwich his pup between himself and the wall, glaring at the threat.
A large beta stood just outside of arm’s reach, pumping out aggressive pheromones. Stiles knew that though the beta had been successfully fended off, he was waiting to strike again – and soon. The threat made Stiles bare his teeth with promise. If the beta came any closer, Stiles would end him.
He watched as the beta turned to another a few feet back, growling and flinging a hand in Stiles’ direction. Unimpressed, Stiles dipped his head down to snuffle comfortingly against the crown of his pup’s head, reassuring it that it was safe. His pup babbled happily in return.
Despite the pretense of ignoring the beta, Stiles kept an eye on him, prepared for the beta’s glowering to turn into an attack. The beta, however, kept his distance and paced several feet outside of arm’s reach. Just behind him, Stiles could see a shopping cart and several children of varying ages in and around it, watching the beta and Stiles with concerned faces.
Stiles huffed. There would be no reason for concern, if the beta would just accept his inferiority and leave. This was Stiles’ pup, and as soon as they could, the two of them would return to Stiles’ nest, where they would be safe from any further threats.
Another stretch of time passed, and Stiles quickly became frustrated with the beta who refused to leave. But he didn’t want to risk leaving his pup behind to confront the beta, afraid that a member of the steadily growing crowd would attempt to take his pup when his back was turned.
Eventually, an alpha pushed his way through the crowd and headed for the beta. He clapped a hand on his shoulder and said something that prompted the beta to growl, but the alpha only laughed in return and shooed the beta off. After a brief hesitation, the beta nodded and stalked off to the cart bearing many children.
Stiles sighed with relief, nuzzling and purring at his pup who’d long fallen asleep. Before Stiles could relax, though, the alpha turned in his direction and took a deliberate step forward.
Stiles’ responding growl shook the bench. The alpha paused for a second, offering a closed mouth smile, before slowly lowering to his knees and tilting his head to the side to bare his throat, shocking Stiles into silence. The alpha smiled again.
The alpha shuffled forward, freezing when Stiles growled again. The alpha offered a soothing rumble – an imitation of an omega purr that was supposed to indicate non-threat – but Stiles narrowed his eyes with blatant distrust. He sniffed the air. There was a mix of smells and pheromones: yeast from the bakery; meat from the deli; fruits and vegetables; chemical floor cleaner and sanitizers; and the scent of the store’s dozens of patrons. The beta from before continued to radiate irritation, though he no longer seemed liable to challenge Stiles.
The alpha, notably, smelled pleasant, like he was amused.
Stiles sniffed again.
There was a hint of musk to the alpha’s scent, as well. Arousal.
Stiles trilled in surprised confusion, distantly understanding that, while he was in pre-heat (and rapidly descending into heat), the pheromones he gave off shouldn’t encourage mating like they might’ve had he gone under in the presence of an alpha sans his pup. As it were, he had obviously already successfully mated. His pup was proof of this, and his only concern then was protecting said pup.
He observed the alpha once more. He was a large alpha, with broad shoulders and big hands. He had authority, given that the beta had listened to him, yet he’d submitted to Stiles readily. The sharp look in the alpha’s eye spoke of a willingness for violence, but something in Stiles told him that it was reserved for those who’d crossed the alpha.
Stiles glanced down at his pup before returning his eyes to the alpha.
Maybe this alpha could give him another strong pup.
So when the alpha shuffled forward again, Stiles only watched in wary silence, prepared to strike if needed. The alpha took Stiles’ silence as acquiescence and rumbled again, though he was smart enough to proceed cautiously, aware that the omega before him may yet change his mind.
Stiles lip curled into a half snarl once the alpha was close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body. The alpha froze and bared his throat. A sleepy gurgle broke the standoff, and Stiles dipped down to nose at his pup, pleased to see that the alpha did not dare move his eyes from Stiles toward his pup.
Instead, the alpha averted his gaze and tilted his head away from the pair to fully expose his throat.
An invitation. One that Stiles accepted.
Keeping his pup angled away, Stiles leaned forward to scent along the alpha’s throat, taking care to inhale deeply at the scent glands further back and purring in approval of the pheromones there.
This was a good alpha, one that Stiles could be proud of.
As reward, he leaned back and bared his throat for the alpha to scent, which he did at once. The alpha rumbled near constantly, dipping occasionally into a growl that lacked any hint of threat, rather sounding satisfied. When he was done, he exited Stiles’ space, still not acknowledging the pup.
Yes, this was Stiles’ alpha.
Stiles sat back fully in his seat, pulling his pup away from the wall. His pup still slept peacefully, and he saw no reason to wake it; he would allow the alpha to scent his pup, either way.
Slowly, the alpha leaned forward once more, pressing his nose into the soft fat of the pup’s stomach. When Stiles did not protest, the alpha relaxed slightly and began to snuffle, quickly roving his nose over the pup to take in its milky scent and leave his own behind. The sight and accompanying satisfaction – satisfaction not unlike that after a successful hunt – prompted Stiles to resume his earlier purring.
Pup. Mate. Mine.
It was then that he, foolishly, let his guard down. And in punishment, a sharp pain pinched his thigh, and he yelped in surprise. It was like being drenched in cold water, like a computer suddenly coming back online; and in one fell swoop, rationality returned to him.
Peter leaned back with a smug smirk, pocketing a syringe.
“Hello, sweetheart,” he said, standing up, “I believe you have something of mine.”
“Peter?! What the hell was that fo–” Stiles cut himself off, slapping a hand to his forehead, and looked down at the still sleeping baby in his lap, then over to Derek who stood glowering with his cousins. His cheeks burned with a flood of embarrassment. “Oh, shit. ”
Standing quickly, Stiles bundled the baby in his arms and skittered over to the brooding werewolf. “I’m so sorry about that, man. I don’t know what came over me. Please, don’t tell Laura, she scares me. I promise I wasn’t trying to kidnap– wait.” Stiles pointed an accusatory finger at Derek and laughed meanly. “Actually, feel free to tell Laura ‘cause then you’ll have to tell her that you lost her baby. And then she’ll recognize me, Stiles Stilinski, as the hero of this story, and then she’ll ask me to babysit for this little munchkin, and then your mom will make me a batch of those fudge cookies she makes – you know the ones? The ones she never makes you? And then–”
“Stiles,” Derek grits out, taking the baby from the omega, “shut up.”
“Shutting up,” Stiles agreed.
Derek stormed off with a huff, his many cousins trailing behind. Once gone, the crowd finally began to disperse, sensing the drama to be over.
Stiles sighed and ran a hand over his head. He should probably get the Cheez-Its while he was there. The pheromone blocker Peter administered would only push off the inevitable for a couple hours, and he didn’t want to risk a part two to this whole fiasco by coming back later.
But all he wanted was to go home to his nest. It was hard not to feel kinda mortified over the whole thing, even if it wasn’t technically his fault, and he didn’t feel like subjecting himself to his fellow grocers’ stares. Hopefully, he wouldn’t have to see any of the Hales for a while, either, especially Peter.
Speaking of Peter, where was he–?
“I was surprised to find out you were the omega keeping my niece hostage,” Peter said, much too close for comfort.
Stiles startled and stepped away from the alpha, throwing him a glare. “Jesus Christ, man. Get a bell, would you? And maybe a muzzle while you’re at it.”
Rubbing an irritated hand at the back of his neck, Stiles made his way toward the exit and groaned when he saw that Peter followed.
“You’re supposed to be away at school,” Peter said, ignoring Stiles’ taunts.
Stiles rolled his eyes. “Obviously, I’m on heat leave, genius. And I was trying to get myself a snack before the whole grocery hostage crisis, so it’s not like I planned this shit. If I had, I woulda picked a pup without a creepy uncle. Just my luck, though, right?”
Peter hummed in response but didn’t speak again until they reached Stiles’ Jeep. Unlocking his door, Stiles turned to gesture awkwardly at the werewolf.
“So, uh, sorry for that, I guess. See you ‘round never?”
Peter pressed into Stiles’ personal space, forcing him to stumble back and press against Roscoe’s cool metal.
“You said you were getting yourself snacks. What kind?” Peter asked, breath puffing softly against Stiles’ cheek. And though the pheromone blocker had pushed down most of his instincts, Stiles was still much too close to his heat to not get a little hazy in such close proximity to a virile alpha.
“Uh,” he stammered, “Cheez-Its?”
Peter hummed. “What flavor?”
“Any flavor?” What the hell was happening? Could this night get any weirder? “I like ‘em all. Except bacon. My dad can sniff those out and will steal them from me, screw my heat.”
Stiles watched as Peter’s chest rose and fell with each deep inhale, and his mouth dropped open in recognition. Peter was scenting him.
What the hell?
“When do you graduate, Stiles?”
It took a moment for Stiles to understand the question and then remember the answer. “May,” he said, more breathily than intended. He cleared his throat.
Peter smiled, and it was a smile that Stiles had seen before. One that made him nervous and horny all at once.
“You wouldn’t show in your gown,” was all Peter said.
Which.
What?
“What?”
Had Peter finally gone crazy? Flown over the cuckoo’s nest? Lost his marbles?
The look in Peter’s eye suggested that the answer was definitely yes.
Peter leaned in so that his mouth ghosted over Stiles’ ear as he spoke: “Never before have I seen such a magnificent omega as you, Stiles. I knew from the moment that I walked into the store that you would kill anyone or thing you deemed a threat to your pup, wouldn’t you? Such a good mother, such a good omega, so good for me, hm, Stiles? You were going to rip my throat out, weren’t you? Up until the last minute, I thought you would, but you didn’t. Why?”
Stiles’ eyes fluttered open, having involuntarily closed in pleasure from the sight, sound, smell of a pleased alpha. His alpha.
“Maybe I was still gonna,” Stiles slurred out, tipping his head back to allow Peter access to his throat. “Maybe I still will.”
Peter growled, though his scent went heavy with arousal. “I invite you to try, sweetheart, but I think I can entice you into allowing me to live at least a little longer.”
“Yeah? How’s that?”
“I’m going to breed you, give you that pup you so desperately need. Gonna tie you up on my knot and mate you, make you mine so that you’ll never even think of another alpha ever again. And if you’re good, maybe I’ll keep you pupped. How does that sound, hm?”
“Oh, my god ,” Stiles whined through pants. His hands tugged at Peter’s shoulders to pull him closer. “Yes, please. Yes, Peter, alpha. Yes.”
Abruptly, Peter pulled back, steadying Stiles with hands on his shoulders.
“Go home,” he ordered, ignoring Stiles’ whine, “and grab what you need from your nest. I’ll text you my address. Meet me there.”
Peter helped Stiles get into his Jeep, waiting until the omega was buckled in to close the door and head toward the grocery store entrance.
“What–? Where are you going?” Stiles called out his window.
Peter turned but continued to walk backwards, waving Stiles off casually.
“I have a craving for Cheez-Its,” he said with a shrug.