Talia tells Peter that if he doesn't find a mate himself, she has candidates for a match.
“You’re such a drama queen, Peter. You’re my favorite brother and ideally, I’d like you to find true love, to find your true mate and raise a family and be happy forever. But at this point, you need to find someone you can tolerate to be mated with, who tolerates you and benefits the pack.”
Stiles opens his mouth a few times, but no words come out as he feels tears welling up again. He takes a deep, shaky breath, exhales slowly to calm himself enough to do this. Peter waits, brows furrowed in worry as he watches Stiles. “I think I’m pregnant,” he finally says, “And I don’t know what to do.” -- Or the one where Stiles is a human incubator and Peter is not the baby daddy (until he is).
Stiles knew there were people out there who viewed pack selection invitations as a form of slavery, a tangible reminder that werewolves were the dominant species who got what they wanted. They were the same people who looked at the bite as a burden rather than a gift, who claimed that the invitations weren't invitations as much as they were a summons that couldn't be ignored.
Personally? Stiles couldn’t see the downside. He’d seen the members of the local pack, okay? So if the powerful and frankly gorgeous Hales ever decided they wanted to swoop in and basically adopt him, and if somewhere down the line he got supernatural powers and a partner, maybe hot like burning Derek Hale?
Everyone knows the Hale’s take in strays—maybe it's in the hope that one day they’ll be willing to take the bite, or maybe it's just that they're pack creatures that take one look at a human without a family and immediately have to adopt them. Stiles isn’t sure which it is. Maybe it’s both.
He just never thought he'd be one of those strays.
“Please accept this token of courtship.” Stiles startled backwards when a box was shoved in front of his face. He turned to glare at the werewolf standing next to their table. The man was good looking, well-dressed, and around Stiles’s age. Not a bad start for someone expressing interest in him. But, the blatant rudeness was a major turnoff.
He glanced at the box. Slim and wrapped with a simple ribbon. It was probably something from one of the mall jewelry stores. He would wager money on some kind of fancy watch. Hopefully the dude kept his receipt. “Thank you, but I decline your offer.” Stiles turned his attention back to Danny. “I’m sorry, you were saying?”