I Don’t Bother Chasing Mice Around
Stiles really fucking hated witches. And he wasn’t feeling too happy with big, broody alpha wolves who ducked when said witches started throwing spells around, knowing full well the puny human was behind him.
“I am not taking it home.” Derek crossed his arms and fixed his most determined glower to his face as he stared down the rest of the pack.
“Absolutely not. I refuse to bring it home with me.”
Scott crossed his own arms and glared back at his alpha. The rest of the pack was behind Scott, looking between the two wolves. “Dude, it’s not an ‘it’, it’s Stiles.”
“Don’t call me dude.”
“Besides, it’s your fault this happened!” Erica threw in. “Plus how much trouble could he be? I mean, loooook at him, he’s so cute!” She bent over to play with Stiles, making little cooing sounds at him.
Derek threw his glower at his beta and breathed hard out through his nose. “Fine, then you take it- him – home.”
Scott, deciding this was going nowhere fast, tried a different approach. “Look, it’s late, we’re all tired and hungry. Why don’t we all crash at the loft. That way we can all keep an eye on Stiles. Does that work ok for you Derek?”
Derek rubbed his face with both hands, realizing he wasn’t going to get out of this. But seriously, how was he supposed to deal with – this? He had no idea what to do with one. And yeah, it was true he ducked, momentarily forgetting Stiles was behind him. But he really wasn’t equipped to deal with Stiles in this, state, for lack of a better term. What the hell did he feed it?
Making sure to avoid eye contact with Stiles Derek sighed, letting his shoulders slump in defeat. “Alright, fine. But you’re all helping me. Someone needs to figure out what to feed it. I mean him. I’m assuming he’s not going to eat human food.”
There was a decidedly feminine squeal as Erica beamed and bent down to scoop Stiles up into her arms, rubbing her face all over his.
“Dang Derek, it’s not like he’s an alien or something. Just pick up a bag of Friskies on the way home.” Erica was rewarded with a playful pat to her nose and a deep, rumbling purr as she nuzzled the tabby cat in her arms.
Derek was convinced he saw it narrow his eyes at him as he turned around and began to stomp out of the preserve and back to his car.
Howling to the Moonlight on a Hot Summers Night
Derek banged into his loft, leaving the door open for the rest of the pack who was coming in behind him, and headed upstairs. He wanted a hot shower, some food, and sleep. He didn’t even look back as he ascended the stairs, positive that his pack would do whatever they needed or wanted to do, regardless of the fact it was his house. He stripped off shirt as he walked into his room, throwing it onto the bed. Walking in to the bathroom he turned the water on, letting it heat up to the perfect temperature. As he finished getting undressed and stepped in he could hear the rest of the pack coming in and making themselves at home.
Fifteen minutes later and Derek was washed, dressed in an old pair of sweats, socks and a t-shirt and heading back downstairs. He stopped at the bottom of the stairs and looked into to the sitting area. The pack was all in a circle, some on the floor, some on the couch, and Stiles was in the middle soaking up their attention.
“How long do you think he’ll be like this?”
“Is it permanent?”
“He’s so soft and pretty!”
Derek snorted at the inane comments as he padded into the kitchen for some water.
“Did anyone order food?” He asked over his shoulder.
Jackson piped up, yelling that several pizzas were on their way.
“Scott and Allison are at PetSmart picking up things for Stiles.” He added.
Derek stood in the doorway, drinking from a water bottle, while he watched Stiles being petted. A fucking cat, he thought. Of all the irony. A cat in the middle of a pack of canines. Derek hated cats. Maybe it was his canine character, automatically making him hate cats. But then the rest of the pack wasn’t having an issue, except maybe Jackson who just looked bored.
Derek shook his head, wishing for just one day of no supernatural goings-ons, no hormonal teenagers, no nothing. He finished off the water and tossed the empty bottle into the recycling bin and headed over to the couch. Everyone was preoccupied with Stiles so he snatched up the remote and channel surfed until he found an old episode of I Dream of Jeanie. He got through one episode and was just starting the next one when the pizza arrived, and right behind the pizza was Scott and Allison carrying bags in from the pet store. They quickly set up a food dish and a water bowl, then filled it with food. And of course there were cat toys – fake furry mice, a plastic pole with a feather hanging from a string, and some catnip toys.
Erica had picked them all up and began playing with Stiles, who was taking great joy in batting around the feather and pouncing on the mice. She paused just long enough to take a slice of pizza from Boyd and a can of coke. Stiles sniffed at her, smelling the pizza, but she held it out of reach and instead nudged the new food dish to him. Stiles sniffed it and tentatively ate a kibble, then deciding he liked it ate it all up.
After everyone had eaten they put a movie in, kicking Derek off of his Jeanie marathon. Scott had won the toss and got to pick, and he chose Pacific Rim. They all got comfy as the movie started, Boyd had dimmed the lights and Allison had grabbed blankets for everyone. Derek was still on his end of the couch, slouched down slightly with his legs out. Boyd and Erica were next to him, cuddling, while the rest of the pack took the floor in front of the couch. Issac was sitting next to Derek’s legs, his head leaning on his outstretched legs, wanting that little bit of contact from his alpha. Stiles had jumped into Erica’s lap after making the rounds through Scott and Allison, then on to Lydia and Jackson. He purred loudly and head butted Erica as she rubbed his back. He made his way over to Issac and rubbed his face against Issac’s head repeatedly.
“Aw, he’s scent marking you Issac,” beamed Erica. Issac just smiled as he tilted his head back and Stiles rubbed his nose on Issac’s. Stiles then looked up at Derek, who pointedly ignored him. He went over and put his front paws on Derek’s thigh and meowed, head butting his arm. Derek just raised an eyebrow at him then pushed him back off his leg. Erica mock frowned at Derek and called him a meanie. Stiles just narrowed his eyes, then jumped onto the back of the couch and curled up. He made a point of swishing his tail, wapping Derek in the face periodically.
Derek let out a small growl, but Stiles just kept up with his tail. As Derek turned to flick the cat off the couch, Stiles stood up, in that way that cats do, and sauntered back over to Erica before hopping down and curling up by Isaac’s head, his paws kneading into his hair. Derek just leveled a glare but kept silent.
I've Got Cat Class and I've Got Cat Style
Derek woke slowly, not moving as he cracked an eye. He was still on the couch but at some point Erica and Boyd must have moved because he was completely stretched out and covered in a blanket. Someone was laying on him though, he could feel the weight of them. It looked like the pack had sacked out on the floor, the t.v. was still on but repeatedly playing the main menu music of whatever movie they had ended with.
Derek tried to stretch his body without dislodging whoever it was that fallen asleep on top of him, but the reality was that he needed to pee. He tried to wiggle out from under them when he heard the distinct sound of purring. Derek stilled then twisted his head around to see Stiles curled up right on top of his butt.
“Stiles, get off me.”
Stiles peeked up at him, then stretched his own body out, then promptly laid back down with his tail straight out and thumping loudly on Derek’s back, his legs resting across his butt. Stiles pointedly ignored Derek, letting his tail thump.
“Stiles, get your flea-bitten hide offOWOW you little shit!”
Derek yelped and twisted around, effectively tossing Stiles off of him after Stiles had sunk his claws into the meat of Derek’s ass. Derek pinned him with a glare but Stiles just stuck his rear leg up in the air and began to lick himself, before tucking his leg back down and wrapping his tail around himself, giving Derek a very uninterested look.
Derek grumbled as he got up, rubbing his backside as he stomped off to the bathroom. And if there was a quiet snigger coming from Jackson, well Derek figured he’d pay for it when they trained later on in the day.
It had been three days and Stiles was still a cat. Lydia and Allison had been combing through the bestiary and a grimoire, trying to figure out if this was permanent. Scott had gone over to Deaton’s to see if he had any insight to Stiles’ plight. Scott was missing his best friend and was really concerned that this may be permanent.
They had told the Sheriff two days ago. He stood there in Derek’s loft, in uniform, hands on his gun belt and just stared at Stiles, shaking his head. He rubbed Stiles’ head and told Derek he better be taking good care of him until he was fixed. The lack of reaction was indicative of how every-day the supernatural crap was that the Sheriff of Beacon Hills didn’t freak out over his son being turned into a cat.
Today the pack was out doing their own things, leaving Derek alone with Stiles. Derek was in the kitchen doing dishes while watching Stiles out of the side of his eye. Stiles was perched on the top of the couch dozing, tail flicking every so often. Derek pulled out the sprayer to rinse the dishes he had washed, then placed them into the drying rack. He eyed Stiles again and then raised the sprayer.
Stiles let out a yowl as he flew off the couch, shaking and walking on his toes as his feet flicked out, trying to get rid of the water. Derek laughed from the kitchen.
Derek sat on his couch reading when he heard a weird sound, almost like a clicking, coming from his bedroom. Stiles strolled out, licking his lips, looking at Derek with an evil cat glare.
“Goddamnit Stiles! Really? On my pillow?!”
“What the fuck is that, oh gross, it that a hair ball?”
Stiles sat outside the closed door to Derek’s bedroom, serenading Derek with a feline symphony of yowling.
Derek yelled through the door.
“If you don’t shut up Stiles I’ll have Deaton neuter you in the morning!”
Stiles spent the next half hour scratching the door.
Derek slammed the door open.
“Fine, you can sleep in my bed. You mangy little shit.”
Derek stood over his table, looking over paperwork for the pack. Stiles was balanced on top of the spiral staircase. He wiggled his butt several times, then leapt.
“Son of a bitch!”
Derek was pretty sure he was having a mild heart attack when the ball of orange fur suddenly landed in front of him, scattering all of his papers before arching his back and hopping sideways before flying off the table to run like a bat out of hell into the living room and then promptly sat down, flung a back leg up and proceeded to lick himself.
Stiles was sprawled out in his favorite spot on the back of the couch, soaking up the rays of sun coming in through the wall of windows.
Derek ran up to him, already shifted into his beta form and loudly fake barked.
Stiles hissed as he flew straight up in the air, tail puffed out to three times in normal size before tearing off into another room to hide.
The pack gave Derek funny looks at pack night.
He sat on the couch with his laptop.
Stiles jumped up and promptly flopped down on the keyboard.
Derek wordlessly picked him up and plopped him down next to him.
No one said a word when he scratched Stiles’ ears.
Derek tossed and turned, whimpering softly as he fought through a nightmare, one he hadn’t had since the days after the fire.
Stiles padded over from the foot of the bed and headbutted Derek’s chin until he woke up. He meowed softly before giving him kitten licks on his cheek.
Derek began to calm and curled himself around Stiles, before finally falling asleep again.
Derek woke, rested and comfortable.
Stiles was wrapped up in his arms, spooned against Derek’s front.
Stiles was human again.