Chapter Text
Inspired by this.
--
"Look, I'm trying to work, and Danny's gonna be here soon, helping us out without really knowing. Stop moving around so much, you're not gonna sit back on the desk." Stiles says while looking at his computer screen, almost ready to switch to the books from the old, dusty part of the library.
The cat in his lap squirms again and he sets his hand over his belly to keep him steady. He hisses when claws attach to the back of his hand and he looks down, grimacing at that fluffy face, "Derek, stop it. I'll declaw you and set you in a carrying case for the rest of your time like this, and then some."
The frown that seems permanent on the cat's face seems to deepen and his eyes narrow. For someone who used to be an Alpha werewolf, this really isn't terrifying. The pack doesn't really know how Derek got like this, they're thinking witches with a sense of humor, so that's what Stiles is looking at information on.
Scott brought Derek to him about a week ago, saying that he found him in his house, that it is Derek, he has Derek's scent. And then he pushed him into Stiles' arms saying 'take care of him, you can take care of him'.
So, here they are.
Derek lets go of Stiles' skin and audibly sighs. Stiles looks down at him and nods, rubbing his fingertips against his fur a little, "Thank you."
Derek's ears perk up, tilting just the slightest bit and Stiles looks out his window, "It's just Danny." He goes to get up, ready to set Derek on the desk before he remembers what he said. He swears he can see Derek glaring at him because he's holding him wrong. He rolls his eyes and sets him on the bed, then goes downstairs to let Danny in.
He hears little footsteps following him down and when he opens the door, Derek's right there next to him, making him look like a crazy cat person yet again. It's already happened once with the church people, and then the Ups guy.
Danny smiles at Stiles, then looks down at Derek, giving a bemused expression, "You got a cat?"
Derek digs at Stiles' pant leg, extending his body up and tapping his leg because he wants to be up higher, even if it means having to be held. That's a disadvantage Derek doesn't like, being smaller than everyone.
"Uh, yeah." Stiles picks him up, holding him to his chest, "Isn't he... Adorable?"
"Sure." Danny tells him offhandedly while he walks in, scratching behind one of Derek's ears. Stiles chuckles when Derek looks up at him like he hates his life.
They head upstairs and Derek jumps up on the desk, seemingly going to inspect Danny. Stiles plops down in his seat and gives a disapproving look, Derek coming back with one of his own, basically his ears flattening back and the look of 'fuck you, Stiles'.
"So, why are you researching witches?" Danny sets his bag down on the floor and glances over Stiles' desk, reaching for one of the books. That one is free of dust since Stiles has had it for a month, and it's on werewolves. Derek moves and sits on the book, frowning up at Danny.
Stiles clears his throat and shrugs, "Just because. You know, curiosity and stuff. ADHD with curious thoughts makes for a 'gotta do it or you'll go nuts' kinda thing. So, thanks for this."
"No problem, you're just lucky I'm a little nerdy about this stuff. Tell me what you wanna learn." Danny looks back to Derek, who hasn't moved at inch, and scratches behind his ear again. Derek makes a little noise, shutting his eyes.
"Well, magic. Magic and um... Shape shifters."
Derek's eyes open and he meows at Stiles, tail twitching. Stiles raises his eyebrows and Danny picks Derek up, holding him right, "Shh... What's his name?"
"Derek." Stiles says, crossing his arms over his chest, "The witches?"
"Oh, yeah. Well uh, there are legends that suggest witches were a form of shape shifters, with the right spell or magic... Take the queen from Snow White as an example. She could change herself with a potion, right? Haven't seen that movie in years... Where'd you get Derek? Is he a stray?"
"We found him near the dump," Stiles bluntly gives, looking at Derek soaking up attention from Danny, all smug that a cat wins over a guy more than Stiles does, "So, spells? Curses?"
Danny's clicking his tongue softly at Derek, smiling when he looks up, "What's with the frowny face, Derek? Huh?" He pets over his face and Derek lets him do it.
"Danny." Stiles says, voice rising a bit to get Danny back to talking to him and not fawning over Derek.
"Dude, witches can cast spells and curses, yeah. Thought you knew that."
"What about curses where the person getting cursed turns into... an animal?" Stiles tries to say it nonchalantly, but Danny looks up at him with an odd expression. Stiles is about to open his mouth and flail around while he tries to grasp more words, when Derek wiggles in Danny's arms, crawling up to lay himself against his chest and over part of his shoulder.
Danny chuckles and directs his attention to him again, gently pulling him from his shoulder, "Calm down, Derek. You're okay." He clicks his tongue again, petting him soothingly, "I think he likes me."
"Really? Dude doesn't seem to like anyone, but..." He trails off, watching Derek cuddle up against Danny, rolling around and sniffing at him. Danny chuckles and kisses the top of Derek's head, which surprises the cat into going limp and slumping over. Stiles tries not to laugh, biting his lip hard.
Danny's phone starts to ring and he takes it from his pocket, moving the bemused Derek onto Stiles' lap before he gets up to answer it. When Danny's out in the hallway, Stiles starts to laugh, hand cupped over his mouth.
Derek frowns at him.
"Oh, dude. You're not gonna live that down."
Derek hisses at him.
"Good, kitty."
Derek hisses again and moves to swipe his claws at him, when Danny comes back in. Stiles sets Derek on the desk and looks at Danny expectantly. "I can't stay," He says, grabbing his backpack, "Something came up."
"Something? Or a specific part?" Stiles waggles his eyebrows and Danny rolls his eyes.
"Jealous?" He gives a tight smile before petting Derek one more time before letting himself out.
Stiles mutters about priorities and Alpha cats as he grabs a pen for his notes, then telling Derek to scoot his ass over because he's sitting on his paper.
--
Stiles rolls his eyes, "I can't really let you have pizza, can I? I mean, you're still a cat. Cats can't have pizza."
Derek stares at him from his place on the kitchen counter, a very 'If I want the pizza I will get the pizza' way and um, no. That's not how this works. Stiles pours him more milk in a small bowl and sets it next to him on the counter.
"And besides, my Dad's gonna be home soon. He can't see you eating pizza." He tells him, checking his watch again. Five minutes until pizza, ten minutes until Dad. Derek gives a low, unhappy growl, but moves toward the bowl, starts to drink. "Ah, there's a good boy."
Derek's tail twitches.
Stiles is right about the timing, though. Five minutes later he's paying the pizza guy, then stopping Derek from trying to get into the box, and Sheriff Stilinski comes home early, hungry and tired. Derek shies away from him when he tries to pet him.
"You picked a weird cat, Stiles." His father says as he sits down. Stiles piles salad onto his plate along with his two slices.
"Yeah, well." He shrugs, "He's just different."
Derek jumps down from the counter, trotting over to the table before leaping up onto an empty chair. He's just tall enough to see over the table and glares at Stiles.
"Have you fed him today, kid?" His father asks, looking at him.
"Yeah," He says, remembering this morning, when Derek sat in his lap and took over eating his Lucky Charms. He even washed his face in the bathroom after, "but he's not having any pizza."
"Open him a can of cat food."
Stiles had actually returned all of it after his father had bought it, brought it home and left a bowl out for Derek. Let's just say while Derek appreciated the sentiment, it tasted like shit, so back to the store it went.
"Right... Uh, I don't think he really likes it. He's an odd, stubborn thing, isn't he?" He shoots a look Derek's way and the cat gets up onto the table, setting his front paw on Stiles' hand. He leans up and nuzzles Stiles' jaw while his claws break the skin. Stiles grits his teeth and pats Derek on the head maybe a little too hard to be friendly and it lets up. Derek goes to move from the table, but not before grabbing the pizza crust with his teeth and tugging the slice with him. "Hey!"
The Sheriff chuckles, "Looks like he wanted it."
Derek pulls the slice all the way off the table, puts it back down into the chair, and somehow folds the fucking thing so nothing falls off it as he moseys on up the stairs. Stiles mutters that he's an asshole under his breath as he goes to get another piece from the box.
--
"And I thought you could handle eating without being a four year old." Stiles says as he holds Derek on the counter of the sink, carefully scrubbing the cat's face free of pizza sauce.
Derek makes an annoyed grumbling sound and Stiles rolls his eyes, puts his whole body in the warm water of the sink, backing away to let Derek hiss and scramble out of it, soaking wet and more unhappy than he already was. Stiles laughs at him, looking just so hilarious all skinny with his frown and ears dipped down.
Derek just stares at him, lowering his head a little, and soon Stiles starts to feel like sort of a dick. He sighs and grabs a towel, wraps it around Derek and brings him back into his room. He sits them down on the bed and rubs the towel over him, trying to dry him off.
The cat lays against him, letting Stiles relax as well, before he's leaping up and attaching himself to Stiles' face.
--
Stiles (Mobile):
Derek attacked me last night. Nothing too bad, but yeah.
Scott (Mobile):
Everything okay now?
Stiles (Mobile):
More than okay.
A picture comes up on Scott's phone, a very grumpy looking Derek in a purple-blue dress. Scott can barely type through the major giggle fit that's overtaking him, thinking about how pissed Derek must be right now.
Stiles (Mobile):
Hey, show some respect. He's the Alpha, you knwoanjsrgetrgn
Scott's brows knit together, typing out a quick 'Stiles?' that gets no response.
"So, what happened?" Scott asks the next day as he leans against Stiles' locker, looking over his best friend's face. Stiles has a gash along his cheekbone, another on his lip.
"Derek attacked me!" Stiles says, blasphemous, frowning almost as much as Derek.
Scott tries not to laugh. Tries, being the key word. In Stiles' opinion, he doesn't try too hard.
--
Derek apologizes, though. Stiles is laying in bed, reading from another book on witches, getting closer to having Derek back to normal. Derek hops up on the bed and walks up to Stiles, all the way up to Stiles' head and lays over and side of his pillow, wrapping himself around his head.
"Derek?" Stiles sets the book flat on his stomach and tries to look at him. Derek's tail swishes against his cheek, moving over to nose and by his eye, "Um."
Derek makes a little noise like when he stretches, tapping Stiles forehead with his paw. There's no claws and Stiles closes his eyes, "Is this your way of saying you're sorry?"
Derek swats him with his tail.
"Aw, that's nice," Stiles reaches up and gently pulls him down, against his side. Derek looks up at him, laying on his back. Stiles rubs gently at his fur, all warm and soft. Derek's still frowning and Stiles shrugs, "Cheer up, Derek. You're the Alpha."
Derek gives a low groan, letting his eyes drift shut. Stiles takes it as a 'Yeah, I know. Now, shut up'.