Chapter Text
Peter wishes that he could say he stumbled into this whole thing by accident, but it would be a lie. Now, it's not that he's admitting this to anyone else, so the lie is harmless, but he still doesn't allow it to himself. He's been doing 'research' for months - long, lonely months. He wants this, even though he doesn't want to want this. The fact that he had to be drunk (okay, mildly tipsy, but it's not like he actually gets drunk) on wolfsbane-laced whisky before he even worked up the courage to create his profile on Seeking Arrangement is very telling.
Still...now that he's here, sober and staring at his laptop screen like it can be blamed for what it’s displaying on the screen, he's not mad about it. He's glad that he finally took this step, even if it happened the way it did. Peter knows he's been more than a little bit of a mess lately. Luckily, no one's around to call him out on it, but unluckily, that's the crux of the problem in the first place.
Peter had never been a cold man, per se, but he'd been necessarily distant when he was the enforcer, the Left Hand of the Hale Pack. It didn't entail a lot of murder or a terrible life of crime - they were werewolves, not monsters - but there was dirty work. Threats, intimidation, intel gathering, and fights when it came down to it. It meant Peter had to be tough, have a thick skin, and the result was a negative impact on his connection to his pack, his family, the people he did all of that to protect. It was a difficult position to be in, but Peter was working it out. He'd started training for the position when he was fifteen, and took over on his eighteenth birthday. It was only a measly year and a half after becoming his older sister's enforcer that his world shifted again, quite literally burned down around him, and he found himself the alpha of the smoldering remnants of the Hale Pack - himself, and his nephew and nieces. They'd gone from nearly two dozen family members and friends - a strong pack, a close-knit pack - to one just-barely adult and three terrified teenagers in the span of a single night.
He'd had to step up, not that he resented it for a minute. Peter would happily lay down his life to protect Laura, Derek, and Cora, and he made sure that they knew it. It wasn't an easy transition from emotionally distant uncle and protector to Alpha and sole guardian all at once, but it had to be done, so he did it. There were circumstances that made it easier, of course, namely the family money. In addition to his role in the pack, Peter worked as a temp in a number of entry-level business roles. It wasn't something he loved, of course, but it was something he could commit to while still prioritizing the pack, and the transient and temporary nature of the roles he took on meant that he could always just walk away if he needed to. That, plus an unfortunate amount of life insurance money from his dead pack meant a more than comfortable life for him and the kids.
Of course, he'd also put in the work to grow and improve. He got his undergraduate management degree online while he continued working on more of a part-time basis and focused on becoming a better Alpha. He watched proudly as Laura graduated, then Derek, then Cora. He got the surprise of a lifetime - which was saying a lot, considering all he had already been through - when he found out that he had a daughter, Malia, as well. She was dropped on his doorstep at twelve years old, more coyote than human. He had missed out on so much of her life, but through a lot of dedicated effort, he was able to bring her into their pack. She had been so scared at first, reminding Peter and the other Hales of life right after the fire.
But Malia grew, too, as did the other members of the pack that he brought in over time. Erica Reyes, Vernon Boyd, and Isaac Lahey were all Derek's age. They became rather fast friends at school in Beacon Hills, where Peter had moved them after the fire. It wasn't far from their old home - maybe twenty minutes - but gave them the distance they needed. Thankfully the culprits behind the fire - Kate and Gerard Argent - had been found and arrested at the scene of the crime. The police didn't know what mountain ash was, but arson and murder were crimes regardless, and they'd been caught in the act. As enforcer, it would be Peter's greatest regret he hadn't seen the attack coming, but there was a part of him that was grateful that he hadn't had to chase them down and try to get revenge for his family.
The teens were over frequently, which Peter had no problem with. He was just glad to see Derek socializing and not withdrawing into himself. It was fine for them to be friends, but Peter hadn't expected them to become pack. The secret wasn't held for long - Malia's control still wasn't the best, and she'd shifted in front of all of them, luckily while Peter was there to handle the consequences. He refused to even entertain the idea of turning any of them until they were adults, which had the added benefit of bringing in Erica and Boyd's families. By Isaac's own request, Peter didn't get the legal system involved against his father even after revealing the abuse he'd suffered, since other attempts had only led to more suffering at his father's hands. He just provided a safe place for the teen to be, and a home once he turned eighteen and could leave without being immediately returned to his father.
Isaac still wasn't the first beta that Peter changed - Erica was. Peter knew that she suffered, with her health, and once her family was informed enough to help her make the choice, she took the bite. It was an amazing feeling, to change a life like that, and it felt no less great when he changed Isaac and Boyd in turn. Their families were offered the bite, too, but as older adults also with a variety of health conditions, though non-life-threatening, the risk was considered too great and permission was only granted to Peter to change them in a life-or-death situation.
The families were still in Beacon Hills, there was still that connection to pack for Peter, but it wasn't the same as having his betas and his family near and dear. He longed for connection - that much was clear. But was this really the right way to go about getting it? He'd debated this with himself time and time again. There was a part of him that still felt like it was wrong, though he had no judgment for other people who indulged in the same way. It was one of those things where he thought of it as absolutely fine for others, but wrong for himself.
Well, apparently, his drunk self was over that and had gone ahead and created the profile he'd almost created a million times. There were some things he still had to fill out - a profile/about, and income verification, as the primary two. He could still back out, just shut it down and never look at it again. But he had already made it so far, and wasn't going to let that effort go to waste.
Peter spends time carefully thinking about how he wants to present himself. His first attempt is, well, bad. It comes off as pretentious and cold - god, he’s described himself as eleemosynary of all things. He wants to be authentic, sure, but also has to put in the effort to attract people to him. He still emphasizes his charity work and love for his family - his financials will speak for themselves, and he isn't going to compromise and pretend that work is all that matters to him. He talks about what he wants in terms of companionship - sure, someone to attend his stuffy business dinners on his arm, but also someone who's willing to marathon The Lord of the Rings trilogy in a lazy weekend, or go on a camping and hiking trip. Someone who's passionate about something, anything really, and willing to share that with him.
He doesn't mention sex once. It's not that he's uninterested in that part of an arrangement that he could find here - but it's not his priority. He just wants to take care of someone who he can actually spend quality time with so that things are mutually beneficial. It really is that simple for him. He uploads a few photos of himself as well as the income verification, and just like that, he's got a verified profile and can start browsing himself.
Once he reaches that step, though, he closes the browser window and then the lid of his laptop and sets it aside. That’s enough progress for now.
Stiles Stilinski won’t ever forget looking around the now-empty rooms of his childhood home and, not for the first time, wondering how it got this bad. He knew things weren't good, growing up. His mom had been sick for a long time - medical bills racked up faster than they could do anything about them, and she'd died anyway. Dying wasn't cheap, either. Stiles knew things weren't good.
He just hadn't expected that they were quite this bad, either. His dad did a great job of keeping this side of things from him as much as he could - but this is one secret that it's hard to keep from beyond the grave. John Stilinski was barely cold before Stiles started receiving calls and letters about the house, the car, medical bills, loans his father had taken out. There was a lawyer, too, to help Stiles through everything, and the deputies at the station helped as they could. But the lawyer's help wasn't free, either, and the deputies had their own careers (made difficult by the sudden and tragic passing of their boss, as well as the severe injuries to two other deputies) and families, and eventually Stiles had all the information he needed, and he was alone.
He was only twenty-one years old, excited to finish his junior year, have a great summer internship, and return for his senior year of college. He was supposed to be focused on balancing passing his classes and the genuine care he had for his education with partying and making stupid decisions with his friends. Not - this. Not selling an estate, inheriting debts, and feeling alone.
It's not that Stiles doesn't have friends, or the aforementioned support from his dad's coworkers, but there's only so much of his grief he can outsource. For the semester he's in now, tuition has been paid (partial scholarship, his own loans, and loans from his dad) but he has no idea how he'll pay for the fall. His internship is paid at a rate of $12 an hour, which he'd been excited about before. Most of the other options were unpaid, or paid lower, but $12 an hour wasn't going to get him to where he needed to be to pay all the bills that were now in his name.
Selling the house wasn't something Stiles had initially wanted to do, but he really hadn't had any other options. Luckily, the market was in a good place and it sold quickly and without much hassle, but it felt wrong to walk away. Financially, he didn't have a choice. The money from the house didn't fix everything, but it at least meant not paying a mortgage that he couldn't afford on top of everything else he couldn't afford. His dad's car was sold, too, so he was able to handle that. The medical bills and funeral expenses and tuition and his own cost of living, though - those expenses weren't going anywhere.
So he applies for supplemental work - he hates the idea of taking his focus away from the internship, but he needs the money. He finishes out the semester and manages to pass everything, at least, even with the nearly three weeks he'd had to take off to handle everything. There was reduced housing available through the company he was interning for, which he'd initially declined, intending to live at home and make the commute. Luckily they understand his circumstances for missing the deadline and get him in late. It’s yet another expense, still, but better than trying to find some short-term lease in the city that would have been impossibly over his budget.
He was halfway through the summer, and burning out faster than he could have predicted. He'd known it wouldn't be easy, but he didn't know it would be this goddamn hard either. The grief of losing his father was still so, so fresh. The internship was fine, but it wasn't work that really excited or fulfilled Stiles and he was sure that it showed in his performance. He worked his forty hours per week there, then as a line cook overnight at a nearby diner. He would have rather done something that let him travel - drive or deliver food or something - but he couldn't afford the upkeep on his Jeep as it was, more wear and tear would have only made things worse.
Things still weren't good - he was on as tight of a budget as he could be, but the money just wasn't there. The straw that broke the camel's back was when he received his bill for the fall semester's tuition and room and board - even with his scholarship and student loans, without the supplement from his dad, he wouldn't be able to afford it. The thought of turning to other loan services - taking out private student loans with insane interest rates that would just put him further in the hole - made his stomach churn.
Was he really going to drop out, though? Could he bring himself to make that call? He does make a call - to the student financial aid office, and his academic advisor - but there was no extra help to be found. Dropping out sounded more and more likely - or at least taking a leave of absence - and it only made things worse. Hearing his story about someone else would have made Stiles sympathetic and understanding, and he wouldn't have judged them at all. But for himself - he couldn't help but feel like it would be a failure of massive proportions.
He couldn't bring himself to tell anyone else how bad it was, either. He didn't lie to his friends when they checked in - he complained about the internship and the work, and being broke, but just like he always had, like all college students did. He said of course he missed his dad, every single day, but it was getting easier with time.
One Friday, after the internship, he miraculously has off of his other job and he's just had enough. He decides to go out and get absolutely trashed, doing his best not to wince at the price of the drinks he orders. He dances and talks and flirts at the bar, but ultimately walks home alone. He wakes the next morning to his phone buzzing, his manager at the diner asking if he could come in a few hours earlier to cover part of someone else's call out. He immediately accepts, despite the awful feeling of his hangover, knowing that the extra money would be something, at least, even if it wouldn't be enough. Never enough.
He forces himself up and into the shower, then out to the kitchen for water. He looks at the empty fridge and cabinets and sighs - he'll have to 'screw up' an order at work pretty early on. Stiles knows he has to be careful, though - he'd been caught once before and reprimanded for stealing, and warned if it happened again he'd be fired.
Stiles doesn't need to leave yet, but he gets dressed for work anyway. He messes around on his phone for a little bit, but cuts himself off early so as to not use too much data. Getting internet with housing here wasn't terribly expensive - but it was still an expense he didn't need, so he'd opted out of it. His laptop sits uselessly packed away with his things for school.
Stiles sits there and stares almost blankly at the wall, thinking through his very, very limited options. New loans are probably the answer that he's going to arrive at, as much as he hates to admit it to himself. He simply doesn't have the time for another job, though, and what else could he do with his current hours? There are some jobs - like transcriptions - but they take dedicated time, internet, and the payout really isn't very good. It would be too difficult to try and balance with everything else he already has going on.
Then there's the other option that he's considered several times but always stops himself from getting involved with - something like OnlyFans, or selling other adult content. Once again, though, there's an upfront financial commitment - equipment, outfits, etc. and a time commitment that he doesn't think he can afford. Plus the whole crippling lack of self esteem thing. Altogether it wouldn't be the worst, but Stiles doesn't know the first thing about really getting started anyway.
He needs a miracle. He needs someone to just - show up and offer him a ton of money. He texts that exact sentence to a group chat with a bunch of his friends in it as he finally gets ready to leave for work, then stops short at the door when his friend Lydia texts him back, separately.
How bad is it actually, Stiles? Do you need help?
Stiles sighs at the text. Lydia's family is well-off. They could probably pay off his debts and his school and not lose a minute of sleep over it. But he won't do that - won't ask for it. He won't take advantage of his friend like that.
i'm figuring it out
I know you won't accept my help, but there are other options out there. You can still always ask.
After that, she sends him a link to a website called Seeking Arrangement. Stiles opens it, gapes, and immediately closes out of it.
Lyd!! omfg, no, i'm not going to be a sugar baby for some weird old dude
He does leave the apartment, then, because he knows he can't be late. He checks his phone once more when he gets there, before going inside to start his shift, and has one more reply from Lydia that makes him frown.
It's not just 'weird old dudes', Stiles. Create a profile, take a real look. If it's not for you that's fine, but give it a try, if you won't let me help you.
...i'll think about it. thanks, lyd
He shoves his phone in his pocket and goes inside, trying to push the entire idea out of his mind. Unfortunately, it's the only thing he thinks about other than the basics for cooking for the rest of the night. He can't help it - all he thinks about when he hears 'sugar daddy' is a creepy old man demanding nudes from some girl who's barely eighteen online. Sure, that can't be all of it, but it's still the association his mind makes.
The website itself isn't skeevy, when he takes a minute to actually look at it on his fifteen minute break outside. The diner has wifi, so he doesn't feel the need to restrict himself when he's here. He resolves to follow Lydia's advice and actually create a profile when he gets home. The fifteen minutes do fly by, though, and he’s back on the grill with a clearer head.
When he gets home, he passes out as soon as his head hits the pillow. When he wakes the next morning for a blessed Sunday completely free, though, the first thing he does when he’s awake enough is create a profile on the site. He then promptly leaves his phone to charge without browsing for any other profiles and goes for a shower.
Somehow, he’s still disappointed when he doesn’t have any notifications when he checks his phone next, despite not having liked any profiles himself and having only created his own profile less than an hour ago. He steels himself for the worst, having spent years on Tinder, Grindr, Bumble, and Hinge with little luck, but finds it’s not quite the same. Sure, some of the profiles have the classically terrible cliches that he’s come to expect. But most of them are - better than that, somehow. It really is almost the ‘refined’ experience that the site had bragged about. Maybe - just maybe - he can find a solution here. The lifeline he needs, and with the promise of at least some sort of companionship - maybe more.
Browsing profiles leaves Peter with what he can only describe as a tension headache, if that were the sort of thing that werewolves could develop. There’s nothing wrong with what he’s seeing, necessarily. But it’s not quite right, either. Everything sounds so…transactional. And it is, he knows that. He knows that even if he gets attached, it’ll still be transactional. But it still feels cold and detached and just a little off. He still likes a few profiles that have some spark to them, but it’s not an encouraging experience.
He doesn’t check every day, so it’s about a week later after his first foray into checking out profiles that he logs back in. He’s pleasantly surprised to see that two of the profiles he had liked have done the same for him, and that he has a handful of likes from other profiles. He scans the list and likes a few back. Then he takes a deep breath, and starts to think about messaging them.
Instead, he chickens out and goes back to browsing profiles. A new one catches his attention, and oh. That - that is a beautiful man. Most everyone he’s seen has been captivating in some way, glamorous and carefully styled, but not this one. The picture is an actual candid - not something posed to imitate one. The man has his head thrown back, halfway to a laugh, and his smile is breathtaking. His hair is a mess and he has laugh lines forming and a million moles and he’s beautiful..
Stiles - which must be a nickname - is twenty-one years old, which Peter winces at. Just barely older than his own daughter and the same age as his nephew. But he pushes that to the side - that’s part of the appeal for some people, he knows, and he’s not about to throw stones. He’s open to a lot of possibilities. It’s still weird, at least for now.
As he reads more about Stiles - in college, with an internship, working on top of it - he finds that he loves the way that the younger man writes, how he imagines he would talk. The profile is ostensibly a mess of run-on sentences and jumping from topic to topic, but Peter finds it fascinating to follow. Stiles is clearly bright. He has a spark of passion that shows in everything he talks about.
Peter is pleased to find that he, also, doesn’t mention sex in his profile. He’s sure it’ll be a part of any arrangement that does get made - but it’s too personal. It’s something that actually needs to be discussed and negotiated and hopefully, this means Stiles thinks the same way. He likes the profile as soon as he’s done reading, and then goes to send Stiles a message. Maybe it’s silly, but this seems less intimidating, somehow, than messaging any of the others.
The cursor blinks at him and Peter immediately starts typing, then deleting what he’s typed, then trying again. It is not a quick process by any means. He’s not entirely pleased by the message he finally does send, but it’s good enough. It’s a short and sweet greeting followed by a compliment toward Stiles’ profile - but not just his photo and appearance - and a follow-up question about Stiles’ interest in mythology, which Peter can’t resist poking at.
He sends messages to two others, emboldened by reaching out to Stiles, and then closes out of the site. He’s having lunch with Malia across town, by the apartment she shares with her friend Kira (who Peter deeply suspects is more than just a friend, but he’s letting her come to him with that if and when she’s ready), so he needs to get ready. He showers and gets dressed and makes the drive to pick Malia up and decidedly does not think about beautiful men that he could find companionship with.
Seeing Malia - giving her a brief hug (because he knows she doesn’t love physical touch, even though his wolf longs for it), talking to her, and providing her a meal makes Peter feel settled. He talks to all of them - Malia, Laura, Derek, Cora, Erica, Boyd, and Isaac as frequently as he can - as much as they’ll allow, really. And it helps, but it’s not the same as having them at home always was.
When he gets home, though, he indulges himself and checks the site again. There are short, cursory responses from the other two people he’d messaged, but nothing yet from Stiles. He tries to reassure himself that it hasn’t been that long and he needs to have patience. He picks up what he can from the few word answers he received from the others and tries to spark a real conversation.
It doesn’t seem to flow with either of them, so he wishes them the best but says that he’s going to keep looking. Neither of them responds to that message, which Peter shrugs off. He exercises in the afternoon, then sets about making himself dinner.
Cooking is something he’d love to share with another person. He wasn’t great at it in the beginning - it was a lot of boxed meals for the kids, at first. He was just barely not a kid himself and cooking wasn’t a skill he’d needed at the time. Like so many other things, that changed quickly.
He threw himself into it - trying to get the freshest ingredients he could and experimenting with all different types of cuisine. Some of it was disastrous, but he slowly built a repertoire of meals he could reliably make that only grew over time. As the teens got older, they helped too, but Peter fell in love with cooking for them. It was hard to balance on top of everything else, sure, but he made the time for it. Cooking was a labor of love and he was more than happy to do that for his pack and family.
When he brought the others in, they came with parents who were reliable cooks, and the library of family recipes grew. There were more meals that were potlucks, but Peter always cooked something, and usually most of it.
Now, he cooked for one, and it just wasn’t the same. Of course, he needs to feed himself, so he keeps it up. But he misses the smile on one of his pack member's face when he'd make their favorite meal, or when he tried something new and it was a success. He misses asking for a volunteer to help him and having eager hands join him in the kitchen to help prepare the food. It would be nice, he thinks, to have someone to share this with occasionally.
Still, the pork chops are perfectly seared and wonderfully accompanied by the vegetable medley he prepares. He picks out a nice white - once again, he can't get drunk, but it's still a good pairing - and eats alone at a dining room table that's far too big for just him.
Across town, Stiles dumps the seasoning packet onto his recently drained ramen noodles and mixes it in, along with some of the chopped vegetables he got out for this. It's not exactly gourmet, but it's the best he can do right now and at least it's not just the noodles. He eats quickly, then moves to his bed and pulls out his phone to check Seeking. It's been a few days, but he's been busy and he really does still need to be careful about his data usage.
He blinks at the sheer number of notifications that he has. Likes and message requests flood in, and he smiles to himself. Maybe this really will end up being worthwhile. Then he actually starts taking a look and, well, a lot of it is just as bad as the other apps. He tries not to get discouraged too quickly, though, and looks at every single notification. He's maybe three-quarters of the way through when someone genuinely catches his eye.
The man's name is Peter, and Stiles is instantly attracted. He's undeniably handsome in a classic sense - strong jaw, neatly trimmed facial hair, and a broad neck and shoulders. It's the meat of his profile that really gets to Stiles, though. Peter describes what he's looking for in good detail and it's well-written. He's charitable and intelligent (and loaded, Stiles notes, since that is what he's here for, after all). Best of all, not only has he liked Stiles' profile, but he's also sent a message.
And the message, well, it's just as put-together as everything else he's seen from Peter so far. It's polite and friendly and actually meant to be engaging. Stiles smiles broadly as he starts to put together a reply. Yeah, maybe this will work.