Teen Wolf One-shot stories

Burning Bright (Tiger part 2)

Talia narrowed her eyes. "Is there a problem Miss Argent?"
Kate sneered, "Only with your brain. You honestly think us Argents would make a peace agreement with monsters like you?"
"Kate!" Chris Argent hissed.

"If you have no intention of signing a treaty," said Peter, voice deceptively mild, "why did you arrange this meeting?"
Gerard Argent's expression, which had been one of polite interest for the last hour of negotiations, morphed into a wicked grin. "Why, Peter, to get you both separate from the pack of course. Take out the alpha and the pack will be helpless. Fish in a barrel."
Talia's eyes widened, "what?"
Kate let out a bright cackling laugh. "You should feel the pack bonds snapping any minute now."

Peter turned to try to leave only to find every hunter present had their guns trained on him and Talia.
"What's going on?" Chris sounded absolutely horrified, "the Hales are a peaceful pack! Argents only hunt those who hunt us!"
"Don't be naïve Chris." Gerard chastised. "It's only a matter of time before a rabid dog bites someone. Preemptive measures are necessary."
Talia let out an impressive snarl but it cut off a moment later. It took a few seconds longer for Peter to realise why.

Another heart beat was approaching the abandoned barn.
A familiar one.

A few moments later the door was kicked open and a rather gangly young man strode in.
He was dressed in ripped jeans and a catwoman graphic Tee, and more notably spattered in a blood.
"Hey alpha, Petey-pie." He greeted casually, though Peter caught him scanning the area, identifying threats.
"Stiles." Talia returned, smiling a little, "busy morning?"
Stiles hummed, hands in his pockets, "yeah, fifty people armed with guns seemed to wanna have a bonfire in the pack house. Lined the place with mountain ash too to stop the pups leaving. Very rude."

Peter felt his anger start to build again.
"Who the hell are you!" Exclaimed Kate looking almost as murderous as Peter felt.
"I'm Stiles." Continued Stiles in the same casual tone that only those who knew him really well would recognise as dangerous, "were you one of the people organising the bonfire night?"
"Where are my men?" Asked Gerard bluntly.
Stiles' eyes flashed gold, "I killed them. Whenever feasible, one should always try to eat the rude."
Peter felt his shoulders relax in the knowledge his pack was safe and couldn't help a snort at the Hannibal reference.

"Impossible!" Snarled Kate.
Chris Argent still looked like he wanted to be anywhere else, poor bastard.
The various lackeys all looked pale, no doubt having a lot of funerals to plan. Not that they'd survive this to plan them.
Stiles seemed to be thinking along the same lines when Gerard asked his next, surprisingly insightful question.
"What...what are you?"

Stiles tilted his head, deferring to Talia.

It had been clear from the outset, Stiles struggled to submit to Peter's sister. Cats didn't have hierarchies, and where respect was involved, strength defined it. And from their very first training session eight years ago, it had been apparent Stiles could throw Talia over the pack house if he wanted to.
As he'd grown into his full shift with age, it had become even more awe inspiring to see a shifter of such deadliness bare his neck to Talia.

At first Stiles' struggle to do so had annoyed them, now, not that they'd ever tell the kid it, they truly understood the privilege it was.
Not only to have his respect, but to have him in the first place.
Stiles was a gift from god to have in the pack. His brawn made territory disputes easy, and his brains were a pleasure to behold. He was fiercely protective even if not as tactile as the wolves and his immunity to wolfsbane and mountain ash had been absolute life savers. Quite literally in this case.
Weretigers were basically non existent in the US so no hunters knew how to tackle them let alone carried the ingredients to do so.

"Chris Argent didn't know." Talia stated to Stiles' unasked question. She turned to look at the young man. "Can we trust you to behave with honour and keep a secret that does not risk innocents?"
Chris stared between them, then at his family. "...yes."
His heartbeat was elevated but steady.
Talia sighed, "go ahead then Stiles."
The grin that lit up the young man's face made Peter understand why people compared them so often. There was something broken in them both, a jagged edge that time would never smooth over.

"Goodie." Stiles flexed his fingers, a flicker of claws reflecting the electric light.
He stalked past them to come face to face with the Argent patriarch. "There are five children, under twelve in the Hale house right now. Two aren't even werewolves."
"What are you." Demanded Gerard Argent, raising his gun.
"Oh nothing that unusual." Stiles answered, "Just a tiger. And you pulled my tail."
The next moment Gerard's head was rolling across the floor.

Kate let out an inarticulate screech but lost her voice box shortly after to another claw swipe. 230 kilograms of tiger launched from her body to that of one of the nameless lackeys, who crumpled under the power.

Cora called Stiles Marty sometimes after the zebra in Madagascar to annoy him. Both due to the black and white stripes of his full shift and because of  his unpronounceable first name beginning with M. He'd tried to push for Atsushi...supposedly after an anime character who was a weretiger, but that had just earned him a flat look from the entire pack. Much like his wolverine attempt.

Peter watched his protégé slaughter ten hunters, but mostly admired Chris Argent's rapidly paling face.
"Weretiger." He commented absently to the gobsmacked man. "Wonderful cub, adopted him into the pack after his mother died. Fiercely protective of our pups and great against wendigoes and such."
Chris swallowed audibly.

Talia gave Chris her sweetest smile when the screams stopped and Stiles, nude and unashamed, wandered back over to fish the phone from his destroyed jeans.
"I assume you're happy with the peace treaty discussed? We won't hold your father and sisters' actions against you."
"Y-yeah." Chris stammered.

Peter was pretty sure the guy would sign away his soul if they'd asked in that moment.
He was tempted to, but settled for tugging off his coat and chucking it to Stiles. "What have I said about bringing spare clothes to fights Stiles?"
Stiles put it on, pouting. "I was worried you guys were in trouble, I wasn't exaggerating about the fifty hunters! They woke the twins! Very noisy."

There was something undeniably cat-like about the way Stiles complained after kills, angry about hunters being noisy as they died, or bleeding too much. They watched him lick the blood from his nails as he wandered back out the barn. Just as casual and unassuming as when he'd first entered.

"He's terrifying." Muttered Chris, still admirably composed considering his dead sister and father lay barely five meters from him.
"He's a tiger not a wolf. There's a reason they were never domesticated." Said Peter absently.
"But he is good Chris. Ruthless yes, but good." Added Talia, "Remember you've just seen him after fifty hunters attempted to burn his family alive."
Chris did seem to relax minutely at the reassurance.
Peter chuckled darkly, "that said, remember his warning. Don't pull his tail."