Mischeif and Moonlight Steter Mates

Intro

Stiles always felt somewhat on the outskirts of the pack. Being the only human could do that to you, he wasn't as strong, wasn't as fast, and he sure as hell wasn't well trained in a fight or so the pack thought. To them he was just the human they kept around because he was their friend. They very quickly stopped seeing everything he contributed, the late night research he spent hours on, the sleepless nights trying to track down where the latest threat was calling home using geographical profiles on the monster of the week the same way his dad would on a suspect. They sure as shit weren't using their brains enough to consider the fact that he was a sheriff's kid, of course his dad made sure he knew how to defend himself and when the supernatural world made itself known he took a more invested interest, telling his dad it would be a good way for them to spend time together, which it was. He missed his dad a lot these days, the sheriff always trying to solve seemingly impossible crimes with suspects that just disappeared.

If they had taken notice of Stiles, his skills and intelligence, if they nurtured it, they would have realised that he could have been their greatest weapon. Instead they sheltered him, used him for information that they took for granted like it was easy to find information on things that shouldn't even exist. They pushed him aside with the excuse of keeping him safe when really all they wanted was to not have to worry if the fragile human would break.

He knew he should tell them he wasn't weak, that he could fight. Hell if they didn't believe him he should just challenge Derek to a fight, beat an alpha and he would sure as shit earn their respect then right? But he couldn't. It was easier to pretend it wasn't happening. That they were just worried for him. In his quest to gather more information on the supernatural world, his thirst for knowledge never quite quenched; he often had to prove his worth and fight for his right to the information. Ancient creatures with centuries of knowledge that since grew bored in their eternal life often got a kick at the human teenager that could put up a good fight and even sometimes win against his supernatural opponents that by all standards squash him like a bug. The more valuable information he requested the being often chose tougher, stronger opponents for a more entertaining fight, and if he wanted something really juicy well then more than one opponent was often called upon and when the information was truly sought after the fights were to the death.Somehow he always made it out alive, the more he fought the better he got. By now he would be more than skilled enough to take down Derek if he wanted to, hell Scott as well for that matter, But he couldn't do it. If he told them he didn't know how they would react, if they kicked him out for risking bringing these ancient creatures to Beacon hills he would never recover.

So he just kept being pushed further and further away, just being included when they needed information no one else was able to find, they had tried to find out exactly how he got his information, he'd always lose them. They weren't exactly subtle with their stalking. As he got more and more depressed the further away his friends pushed him The harder his mate fought to get back to him.

Peter had known Stiles was his mate in his final moments. Just as his entire body was engulfed in flames did he catch the scent, following it to the source with his eyes. As he died he watched his mate standing with the people who had done it. He knew why Stiles was by their side, he didn't know Peter was his mate. He was a human teenager and didn't know better. He thought maybe he'd find peace after it all but instead he was forced to watch Stiles. Watch his life, his incomparable intelligence and determination.

His fighting technique improve and his battles with the supernatural creature in exchange for information. He was Livid with Stiles for risking his life but he also saw the way his so called friends treated him. The increasing distance between them and his mate. He couldn't truly blame him for his actions. He was trying to stay useful to them the only way he knew how, through information. The longer he observed the more he could see the true potential in his mate. It was always there but now he was deadly all in his own right. He didn't need the pack to solve the threats in Beacon Hills, he could have taken them all on, on his own as a human and won. Peter's wolf was beyond proud of his mate, his strong, capable mate, he couldn't imagine Stile's as a wolf. He remembers offering stiles the bite and being turned down but just the imagine of him being a wolf on top of what he had turned himself into was an exhilarating thought for Peter.

The riskier Stiles got with his fights the more restless Peter got. He had been racking his mind for months now trying to figure out a way to get back to the land of the living and be there for his mate, to make sure he doesn't end up getting himself killed before Peter can make it back to him. He finally had a solution, the banshee. He had started putting his plan into motion, there was no going back now, no more seeing Stiles. Not until he was alive again. The last he saw of his mate he was asleep in his bed. Safe.

That is not how he finds his mate when he's living again.