Chapter Text
Stiles had a mantra that he repeated to himself whenever he thought he might lose his nerve.
Do what you have to to keep the ones you love safe. Just, whatever it is. Just do it.
Okay, so maybe he ripped it off from a certain sports company when he was in high school and trying on an athletic persona. It wasn’t like he was saying it out loud. In front of other people.
‘Whatever it is’, at this moment, seemed to be suggesting an arranged marriage with the werewolf pack in Beacon Hills with, ta-da! Himself as the prize groom.
Arranged marriages were a completely bazonkers idea in general, hence their nonexistence in 21st century America, but millenia-ancient magic didn’t care about modern courtship rituals like dating, and this was a time-honored method of getting what he wanted.
What Stiles wanted, all he wanted, was to protect his dad. And his pack. And Scott, who despite having abandoned Stiles in high school to join the Hale Pack, was still the best bro he could ever have, so that made for two packs.
Protection wasn’t something Stiles was going to take lightly. If he had learned anything in the last six years, it was that.
Junior year at Beacon Heights high school, he and Scott had gone with the lacrosse team to their rivals in Beacon Hills. Tired of warming the bench, they snuck off in the third quarter and promptly got attacked by a crazed alpha werewolf.
Scott was bitten—mauled, basically—and Stiles would have met the same fate, if it weren’t for the hottest pair of siblings he’d ever encountered. They took Peter down, Laura delivered the killing blow, and she became the alpha.
That was the simple retelling, with hindsight being 20/20 and all that. At the time, it was gory, dirty, painful, and unsettling in the way that makes you vomit against the nearest tree. Which Stiles did, and he refused to be embarrassed by that.
Laura offered Scott a place in her pack, met his mother and explained things with a confidence no alpha of 22 years should possess. She also offered to introduce them to Satomi Ito’s pack, but Satomi was reeling from a recent attack from Deucalion and would only take Scott on with a six-month probationary period.
Melissa and Scott decided on the pack that was ready to commit to Scott’s wellbeing, and moved to Beacon Hills.
Left on his own devices for the first time in a decade, and imbued with new knowledge of the supernatural, Stiles quickly glommed onto Satomi’s pack at school, never mind that most of them were two years younger than him. He had questions, okay?
Since then, he’d discovered his spark, saved Satomi’s pack a couple of times, and become so indispensable that they were all family. He didn’t tell his dad until after high school graduation, when Stiles was old enough that the Sheriff couldn’t tell him to stay away. The Sheriff was angry about the secrets, but relieved to finally find out what was behind all the more disturbing unsolved cases.
The pack gave him purpose, a full family, a second home when his dad was working overnight shifts. They forgave him when he let them down, and made allowances for his flaws.
So yeah. Anything. He’d do it.
Sure, he was giving up his chance for a normal marriage, but the number of people who willingly stayed single was on the rise, and who was to say Stiles wouldn’t have become part of that population anyway? And there’s only so much normalcy you can expect when you’re training to be the emissary for a Buddhist, pacifist pack of werewolves. Like, things are always going to be a bit unpredictable.
He just hoped that the Hales wouldn’t offer someone who was, say, forty years old. Or more. Although if the person in question was a werewolf, forty was basically the new twenty, given the excellent physical fitness and lack of disease.
Heck, sixty was the new twenty.
No, that was too far.
Not that Laura’s pack had anyone over thirty in it, anyway, considering their losses ten or twelve years ago.
The point is, if marrying a distant acquaintance can possibly stabilize the entire county and protect basically everyone he cares about, Stiles is gonna do it. And he’s not going to freak out about it.
Much.
So he talked to Hideyo, Satomi’s emissary and his mentor.
Hideyo talked to Satomi.
Satomi called Laura.
Laura got Deaton, and the five of them met at a taco truck, of all places.
It was in neutral territory. And the tacos de carnitas were legendary.