Chapter Text
The Pack Assimilation Accord granted every pack permission to locally search for new pack members whenever someone turned 18 and allowed the humans to re-apply should they desire it but be denied by the alpha's and/or their immediate family. It allowed someone to also be tested by non-familial pack members if the alpha initially didn't accept them. In these cases, the alpha could still refuse the assimilation, but it was so rare as to be unheard of. In some areas this was a wildly contested claim, even though it spelled out in clear language that participation was not mandatory or acceptance by humans forced. It was a way to protect both parties to ensure that people had a chance to join a pack if they wished to, and that packs were not restricted from adding members based on families disliking the idea. There were still some places in America that outright fought it and the packs in those territories often did not enforce the Accords in order to maintain some semblance of peace. In Beacon Hills, home of the Hale Family Pack, which owned nearly half of the town by blood if not name, it was socially damning not to at least try.
The Hales were an ancient werewolf family and their pack had been on the lands for so long that they had at least married into most of the businesses. It was considered an honor to join their pack, but not everyone was able to do so whether as a wolf or a human. The alpha or her immediate family had to bond with a person, which required a bit of time with physical contact. The Accords allowed packs to choose their method for selecting people- anything from hand holding to sharing a bed. Stiles had done some research and most packs out there just held hands and stared into each other's eyes for an hour, but years of disputes from people rejected had taught the Hales a thing or two. They did as much skin contact as possible without it becoming a scandal, for a minimum of six hours, before rejecting someone. That way they couldn't say that they were dismissed too soon.
Since Stiles couldn't afford to commit social suicide, he did his civic duty and showed up at the Hale House to be assigned a time to spend with each Hale House member on his eighteenth birthday. In bigger areas there were more packs so this sort of thing got split up among the students that graduated, but Beacon had only one pack and the alpha had four adult kids, the younger being excluded from the process. To spread it out, and because the pack spent so much time with each person, the alpha saw people on their birthdays rather than seeing a group all at once at graduation. Since she was a busy woman, Talia Hale herself only shook hands with people to decide. Then she passed them onto her children who were forming their own packs within hers. If a person were rejected by all four children they could petition to spend more time with her. This all sounded very formal despite the naked cuddling in a bed, but Stiles had a reason to be nervous about the meetings that others his age did not:
Stiles had offended or humiliated himself in front of each and every member of the Hale family in his short 18 years on the planet.
Stiles' father adjusted his tie and then glanced at Stiles and sighed. He wasn't dressed up, per se. He was wearing his best shirt and a suit jacket, but if he'd put on a tie he would have been tearing it off seconds later so he hadn't bothered. He and his father were both wearing jeans and their nicer shoes. Stiles had the essentials in his school backpack and a pillow tucked under one arm.
Talia Hale herself stepped outside in a floral sun dress and Stiles gaped at her. It wasn't warm enough for a sun dress. It was barely warm enough to go without a jacket!
“Hello,” She stepped forward, “I'm Talia Hale, and you are?”
Holy shit balls, she doesn't know?!
Stiles gave her a shaky smile and stuck out his hand.
“This is my son Sti-”
“Stilinski,” Stiles cut him off, “Stilinski, Mieczyslaw.”
“My, that's a mouthful!”
“My friends call me Mischief,” Stiles gave her a saucy wink.
Talia laughed. She laughed! This was going well for a change! Stiles tried to wrack his brain to determine which of the Hales would recognize him on sight. Luckily it was only two, assuming that the cousins weren't there.
“Well, come on inside,” She smiled, “The rest of the family is just sitting down to breakfast. Sheriff, stay safe out there!”
“I'm headed home to bed, actually, I worked last night,” Stiles' dad shook Talia's hand goodbye while giving Stiles the stink eye, “Take care Mischief.”
“Night dad,” Stiles croaked.
Stiles let out a slow breath and headed into the house behind Talia. He was relieved that she didn't remember his name and the circumstances behind his humiliation. With any luck the rest of the kids wouldn't remember his name either, but he knew they'd remember the crap that he'd gotten up to in school and other locations that caused him issue with them. Maybe, just maybe, if they stuck to Mischief he could get away with less gossip about him after the shit show was over. No one except his father would know that Mischief the Manic was also Stiles, and his father already knew what a disaster Stiles was. So he hoped that after this whole disaster was over and his petition to join was rejected he would be a non-entity rather than facing yet another round of shaming from the entire town.
Stiles entered the foyer where he was instructed to leave his bag on a bench. His shoes were left beneath. Stiles had expected white halls, glass vases, and tons of fancy furniture covered in squeaky plastic. Instead the inside of the gigantic house was decorated in warm browns and greens with the occasional splash of burnt orange to brighten it and taupe to keep it from looking too dark. The floor was dark hardwood that looked as if it had been re-purposed rather than bought new from a store; a sort of chic farmhouse feel. Like you could track mud through it in the morning after a run through the woods on full moon, but clean it up right quick and host a dinner party for clients.
The kitchen was the white he'd expected, but rather than dining hall fancy it was useful. On one side was an L shaped kitchen with a big island full of food. Past the island was a big table full of the huge Hale clan. Stiles was suddenly, and horrifically reminded that he might not just test with Talia's kids. Once he flunked them he could, if they didn't run him out of the house, test with the uncle and adult cousins as well. He had hoped they wouldn't be there to join in, but apparently they had room in their sub-pack because they were seated at the table with the siblings. Stiles froze in horror at the sight of Peter Hale and practically had a flashback.
Excuse me, A smarmy voice spoke up, I believe that's my daughter's mouth your tongue is inside.
Stiles made a terrified whimpering sound and Talia put a firm hand on his shoulder.
“Don't be frightened, Mischief,” She soothed, “We may be predators, but we aren't monsters. We're a lot like humans in that way. Everyone, this is Mischief.”
“What a remarkably perfect name,” Derek grumbled.
“His name is Stiles,” Malia announced, frowning at him.
“Mischief is a nickname, his last name is Stilinski,” Talia informed her.
Oh god, no.
“No,” Malia stated firmly, “Stiles is his nickname. His real name is unpronounceable, but it's definitely Stiles he uses. I would know, I dated him for six weeks.”
“Why does Stiles sound familiar?” Talia asked, eyes narrowed as she thought to herself. Her hand was still on his shoulder and Stiles had a creepy feeling that it was helping her sniff out her memory so he edged out from under it.
“I used to use Stiles, but people were like 'what's a Stiles' so I figured Mischief at least sounds close to my real name, you know? Like Dan from Daniel, or Sam from Samuel, or John from Jonathan, or-”
“I think you broke him,” Cora accused Malia, “It can't be fun meeting your ex's family.”
“Or Dick from Richard,” Peter decided.
Stiles' ADHD got away from him at that and he asked, at an unnaturally high volume and pitch, “Yeah, but how do you get Dick from Richard?!”
The entire Hale familial pack stared at him uncomfortably and Stiles swallowed back another terrified whimper.
“Why don't you... have a seat next to Laura,” Talia stammered, gesturing to her eldest.
Passed on to Laura, Stiles acknowledged with a nod, Not a big surprise. I was never going to be Talia Hale's packmate.
“Uh, hi,” Stiles sat down and stared at the empty plate in front of him. He'd been too nervous to eat when he'd woken up and now he was feeling a bit light headed.
“Would you like something to eat?” Laura asked, “You can help yourself. We do buffet style in the mornings.”
“Uh, sure,” Stiles stood up with his plate and headed for the island and the piles of food there.
He couldn't help a glance around the table as he did so. Peter had dismissed him now that his daughter had confessed their relationship over. It had ended ages ago and Stiles hadn't dated since, but it wasn't due to any sort of hang up over Malia. However, Malia was not the only one who had recognized him on sight. That honor belonged to Derek Hale, who was staring at Stiles with a kind of intensity usually reserved for villains in movies. Malia was just the only one rude enough to call him out for his name. Hopefully by the time his stay at Casa Hale was over they'd be used to calling him Mischief and rumors would fly by that name instead of Stiles, thus sparing him some antagonism outside of their presence.
Stiles broke away from Derek's creepy stare, not willing to meet the eyes of anyone else. When he returned to the table it was to find Laura giving him an uncomfortable look.
“I swear I know you from somewhere, too.”
“Um... work?” Stiles squeaked, hoping to pacify her.
Laura worked with her mother as an intern at her law firm. Stiles' father had a lot of contact with Talia due to his job, so it wasn't unlikely that Stiles had met them there as a small child when his father had dragged him to court cases rather than have Melissa watch him. It wasn't unlikely... but it wasn't the reason Laura recognized him.
“Hm,” Laura shrugged, “Well, you'll be bunking up with Cora and I tonight.”
“Cora?!” Stiles squeaked, eyes flying to her, “B-both of you?!”
“Relax,” Cora glared at him, “We're just going to lie there. No pressure, Mr. XXL.”
“Rude,” Stiles groaned and sank down in his chair. Apparently rudeness ran in the family as well.
“Mr. What?” Laura asked.
“Mischief here dropped an extra, extra large condom onto my tray table in the middle of the cafeteria one day,” Cora snorted, “It landed in my pudding.”
Then you shoved my face in after it. And this is just the awkward stuff. The worst is yet to come! Ugh. Pun unintended.
“That better not have been while we were dating,” Malia growled, eyes flashing yellow.
“No,” Stiles shook his head hard enough to hurt his neck, “No, it was way before we met.”
Malia and her uncle had moved back to Beacon Hills from New York in the middle of a previous school year nearly three years ago... after Malia had been expelled from six schools in New York and Peter had decided having her alpha nearby would be better for her.
“That's very inappropriate,” Talia told Stiles disapprovingly, “If you fancy a young lady, just tell her so.”
“It was an accident!” Stiles insisted, putting up both hands, “It wasn't even mine! Not that I'm small! Just not extra extra lar- oh god, kill me now.”
The table chuckled lightly and it finally disbursed some of the tension. Stiles was left stewing in humiliation while chatter around him resumed normalcy. Finally Laura stood up and walked her plate to the sink. Cora sighed as if much put upon and followed her to the sink. Stiles took that as his queue and did the same, but of course managed to fumble the plate and drop it into the sink. He was just glad it was made of quality material and didn't break. It was still loud as hell and he winced and grimaced. Cora snickered and Laura gave his shoulder a squeeze.
“Come on, Mischief. Let's get this over with,” She stated, voice good natured despite her words.
Stiles followed the two girls upstairs to a room with basic decorations and a laundered scent. A guest room, then. The bed in the room was a king, so it was clearly what they planned to use for their 'bonding' time.
“Okay,” Laura clapped her hands to get his attention. He jumped. Of course he did, “Rules. This is a skin-to-skin pre-bonding session. You can take off as much or as little as you want, but the more skin touches the faster the pre-bond can be established. We aren't shy. Werewolves aren't raised like that. Skin-to-skin pre-bonding does not mean sex. If a bond begins to form that also does not mean sex will happen. If sex does happen congratulations, but it does not mean you are mated to either of us or in the pack. Werewolves mate for life, but we can have sex without it forming a mate bond. We will tell you if you are in the pack afterwards since humans don't always feel the pull. If the answer is no, that's final. If it's acceptance we can begin a full pack bond if you also agree to do so. At that point you may choose to take the bite or not, and you can always prolong that decision. Any questions?”
“Wow, that was impressive. Did it take long to memorize that?” Stiles asked.
“No,” She replied briefly.
“Okay, so... we just... strip now?”
“And you have six hours to impress on us,” Laura nodded.
“That's not the same as impressing us,” Cora cut in, “Don't try to impress us. Especially with your size.”
“Ugh! I won't!” Stiles groaned, rubbing a hand down his face, “It wasn't mine!”
“All that means,” Cora stated as she pulled her shirt off, “Is that you had someone's condom when they needed it.”
“What? No. He had tons of condoms. A whole box. Dude must have-” Stiles stumbled as he tried to get his shoes off, tipped over and fell onto the floor, “Ow.”
“Are you okay?” Laura laughed.
“Oh, yeah, great. This is actually doing wonders for my back,” Stiles grumbled.
Deciding the floor was safer, Stiles rolled over and struggled out of his shoes, then shirt, undershirt, and jeans. He left on his socks and boxers. Then he tried to stand and managed to snag the boxers on the frame of the bed where a foot board was supposed to attach. Stiles stared down at his boxers around his ankles in horror. He'd just pants himself. He was currently mooning werewolves.
Okay, Stiles, play it cool. Just walk it off. They aren't weird about nudity, so don't make it a thing. Just walk over to the bed in your ridiculous socks and start the snuggle fest.
“Oh. My. GOD!” Laura exclaimed.
Stiles turned, hands covering his junk instantly, “You said it was fine!”
“I know that ass mole!” She pointed at his torso and Stiles felt the color drain from his face, “You stole my phone, you little freak!!”
Stiles took a deep breath and then darted forwards and snatched the phone from the table situated far enough from the hot tub to keep it safe. Luck was in Stiles' favor. She was more interested in flirting with college boys on break than watching out for high school boys. Stiles ran at top speed for the car waiting at the bottom of the driveway. A hand in the front gestured at him to hurry while someone in the back opened the door for him. He dove in, but sharp claws dug into his ankle and another grabbed the back pocket of his jeans and shredded them. Stiles screamed as he was dragged back out of the vehicle by a fuming, naked werewoman. A hand tried to grab the phone from him from within the car, but it slipped and slammed to the ground.
Laura released him with an outraged shriek as she tried to save it, but her claws had been tangled in the shredded jeans and it slowed her down. For a moment everyone stared in horror at the clearly shattered phone and then Stiles kicked out, got Laura in the face, and simultaneously pushed his way into the car. The door slammed shut and the car peeled away. A mile later Stiles was promptly kicked out. Mission failed. He walked home in tears.
Stiles wasn't a school kid anymore. He was an adult, graduating in less than a month, and he had an adult answer. He squared his shoulders, firmed his lips, and stated clear as day, “I have a right to request testing for assimilation into the pack.”
“I have a right to a new god damn phone!” She snarled, eyes flashing red.
Stiles swallowed hard and refused to let his eyes fall, “I have a right to request testing for assimilation into the pack.”
“Fucking hell!” She threw her arms up and then glared at him threateningly, “Fine. You wanna cuddle? Let's cuddle.”
That... does not sound good.
Cora had been looking back and forth between them in confusion for a bit, but then she just shrugged it off and finished stripping. They all climbed into bed, the girls completely naked and Stiles in his socks. He laid down on his back and the girls both laid on their backs on either side. Stiles was silent for a moment but that was never going to last.
“Shouldn't we be, like, spooning?”
“Fine,” Laura growled out, “Since I'm more familiar with your ass, roll towards Cora.”
“I don't want his monster dong near me!” She hissed.
“Oh, yeah, totally comfortable with nudity,” Stiles huffed.
“That's not the same as touching it.”
“It's not even a monster dong, see?” Stiles lifted his hands briefly and both girls gave it a glance. He quickly covered up again.
“I guess it's normal,” Cora decided hesitantly.
Laura snickered, and Cora huffed in irritation, “Not all of us have time to go on dozens of dates, Laura! I have to study more than you do!”
Laura poked him into rolling over and gripped her arms around him tight enough to suck his breath out. Cora turned her back to him, naked as he was, and began playing with her phone.
“Um...” Stiles wheezed, “Fragile human, here.”
“And don't forget it,” She growled.
Six hours.
Six hours being unpleasantly squeezed, with only bathroom breaks and a lunch, until his entire body ached. Then he was released and Stiles stretched, wincing in pain as he was finally let go. Laura gave him a cold glare and walked away. Cora didn't even spare him a glance.
“Gee, are we bonded?” Stiles asked sarcastically, then stood up while grimacing in pain, dressed, and made his way out of the room. He was fairly certain that he would be covered in bruises, but he didn't think she'd broken anything.
Downstairs dinner was under way and Stiles sat slowly down at the table and began to eat. Alpha Talia was giving him a sour look and he ducked his head miserably. Laura had probably told him all about how he'd stolen her-
“I remember why the name Stiles is familiar,” She stated dryly.
“What is this?” Alpha Talia's eyes were glowing red in the video, bright and flaring so hard he could barely see anything else, and Stiles was shaking in fear.
“What kind of dumb ass spray paints their own name,” Jackson cackled, “On Alpha Talia's Camero!”
Stiles swallowed hard and sank down in his chair, but his aching body didn't afford him any more ability to escape. He could barely slouch.
“Your father lost a great deal when your mother died,” Talia's voice was like ice, “Not only a mother to help raise you, but every penny of his savings. He had to petition me to help him file for bankruptcy pro-bono when even that didn't cover the medical bills. I would think that you would be grateful for his sacrifices, but since it is obvious that you are not, at the very least recall that you do not have the ability to pay back what you have damaged.”
Stiles grimaced at the food he was pushing around on his plate, “Maybe I'd do better with a pack to raise me, then?”
He wasn't sure where the snide comment came from- probably years of bullying and self-hatred- but once it was out Laura's disgusted scoff was enough to make his humiliated blush travel further down his body.
“You're obviously not very good at this,” Peter stated dryly, “Why do you keep making things worse for yourself?”
Stiles shrugged one shoulder. He couldn't eat. He felt sick.
“Where do you know him from?” Jethro, Talia's husband, asked with a deep frown.
While Talia told him of the word painted into the side of her precious car, which she now realized was his nickname, Stiles waited for the moment to click. It did. Fairly quickly after that description.
Jethro's eyes burned blue and he turned his furious gaze to Stiles, “That's the day you went into early labor. That's the day our son nearly died.”
“Come on, Scott,” Stiles coaxed, “Your mom's got another shift to pull.”
“It's not fair!” Scott sniffled miserably, “She said she'd be home tonight.”
“That was before Alpha Talia nearly died giving birth,” Stiles reminded him gently, eyes moving over to where Jethro Gibbs sat in the waiting room with his head in his hands, “Melissa's helping on the maternity ward. They need more people to... to keep her...”
Sedated. Calm. A mother werewolf losing her mind because her cub had been taken from her. An alpha mother werewolf. Lost in her feral state and howling over and again, her cries shaking the walls. Her pack kept away from her. Her cub in a bun warmer hooked up to tubes. Stiles had seen them run past before he was air lifted to another hospital. He needed special care, the kind tiny Beacon Hills couldn't provide.
“I just want my mom,” Scott sniffled.
“I know, buddy,” Stiles led him away, “Me, too.”
“What did you do to her car?” Jethro growled, “Besides the paint?”
“Nothing!” Stiles argued, “I wasn't even nearby when it wouldn't start!”
“Then how do you know it wouldn't?!” Laura shouted.
“I didn't do anything to her car! Everyone knows that she couldn't get to the hospital because the car wouldn't start. It was in the papers! And the stupid parade stopped the ambulance! I had nothing to do with that! I was just a kid! And the other stuff was mostly not my fault, either!”
“It's obvious,” Talia spoke coldly, “That you have no idea how to take responsibility for your actions.”
“Now hold on,” Stiles started.
“Get out!” Jethro growled, standing up and placing both hands on the table.
The youngest child, the 6 year old whose life had nearly ended that day, began to cry loudly at the sight and Talia rushed to scoop him up. However, it wasn't Cole who stopped them from throwing Stiles shaking ass out the door. It was Derek.
“He still has two people to go through,” Derek stated gruffly.
Jethro's eyes bled back to hazel and he gave his eldest son a glare, “He's a menace! He nearly killed your brother! Talia and I were terrified!”
“Did he mean to?” Derek asked.
“The law doesn't care-” Talia started, but Derek cut her off again.
“He's not on trial here, and I think the Accords are pretty clear. Stiles gets to sit with each of us.”
Talia scowled and Stiles, seeing his first opportunity to get more than a few words in, quickly added his two sense, “The statute of limitations is up anyway. It's only one year for minor theft, and that was nearly 7 years ago.”
“Not for attempted manslaughter,” Talia countered, “I'm a lawyer Mischief. You nearly killed my child!”
“Yeah, and you need proof first. Just because someone put my nickname on a car doesn't mean it was me.”
“Well then,” She smirked coldly, “We'll see if I can get it before you leave. Peter? I know you are allowed to skip your turn due to your more distant relationship, but perhaps you would reconsider?”
“Say no more, sister of mine,” Peter stood up and pressed a kiss to her forehead before smirking down at Stiles, “Come along, Mischief. Let's see what you and I can get up to.”
“He's a kid, Peter,” Derek spat out as Stiles was led away from him by his arm.
“Not anymore,” Peter growled.
Stiles looked over his shoulder at Derek, pleading in his eyes. He was inclined to overlook their history together if he would save him from Uncle Creeper, but Derek's words were not followed up with actions and Stiles was taken upstairs to the guest room once more.