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By the time we burst into warehouse, running on Reese's cups and Red Bull, Danny had been missing for more than three days.
(Jackson had been missing for two but, well, no one was crying too much about that.
(Fuck you, Stilinski! That's not how it happened!
(Language, Jackson! Who's telling this story?!)))
So yeah, anyway, Danny'd been missing for three days and all we had to go on were these weird feathers, a bell and a whisker. There were a few times Derek thought he'd caught Danny's scent but every time, every da-aarn, time-
(Nice save.
(Thanks, bro.))
- he'd get all bowed up and snarly. (I mean, have you ever seen a werewolf froth at the mouth? Not pretty, my friends. Not pretty at all.
God. Took me for. Ev. Er to keep him on task. Finally, I had to tie a rope around his waist to keep him from running half-shifted down Main Street. Again. (There's only so many times you can tell people you're rehearsing for a play before they start asking when it opens.))
(Wait. Where was I?
(Tracking the scent.
(Trac- OH! Right. Thanks, Boobear!
(*sigh*))))
Anywho. There we were creeping along a row of abandoned warehouses-
(And has anybody else noticed the number of abandoned warehouses in this town?! Anything that ever goes down in this town, goes down in an abandoned warehouse. Werewolves versus hunters versus kanima? Abandoned warehouse. Werewolves versus witches? Abandoned warehouse. Werewolves versus hunters, take eleventybillion? Abandoned warehouse.
(Get to the point, Stiles.
(I AM. I'm just pointing out that maybe someone should bring up this abandoned warehouse issue at the next city council meeting.
STILES!))))
So, we're creeping along the row of abandoned warehouses when Derek starts that snarly, frothy-face thing again and took off running full speed at a wall.
By the time I caught up to him, he'd burst through the wall and there was dust and debris everywhere.
I'm choking and sneezing, trying to wave the dust out of my face, and I hear Derek growling. And then, I hear something ELSE growling. Something that, in my vast experience, was decidedly NOT lycanthropic.
So I wrap my arms around Derek's waist to keep him from attacking head first without even knowing what he's attacking. Again.
(Stiles.
(What? I'm merely pointing out your obsessive need-
(STILES.
(God. Fine. Geez.))))
So, here we are, wrapped around each other, Derek growling and snarling like someone had messed up his hair
(THAT WAS ONE TIME!!)
when the dust settles and we're face to face with...
A cat.
Granted, it's a ginormous cat but, still. It's a cat.
A ginormous male cat who stopped growling at us and walked away, with a flick of his tail (did I mention he was a male cat? Because yeah. Definitely a male cat), to lay with more ginormous cats in a pool of sunlight below some of the abandoned warehouse's broken windows.
I'd just grabbed Derek's leash to pull him out of the abandoned warehouse when I heard Danny.
'Oh, hey, guys.'
(I do NOT sound like that, Stiles.
(Shut up, yes you do.))
And there's Danny, in the middle of the pile of ginormous cats, SCRATCHING ONE BENEATH ITS CHIN LIKE NBD. JUST ME AND MY FREAKY GINORMOUS CATS HANGING OUT.
AND IT'S PURRING.
And I'm all like, 'Danny? You okay, there, buddy?'
(Christ, Stiles. You don't sound like that.
(YES I DO! I swear to god, if one more person interrupts me I am not finishing this story!!
(Do you promise?
(SHUT THE HELL UP, JACKSON!!!))))
So I asked Danny if he was okay and he says he's fine, maybe a little warm but fine.
So I ask him, 'What the heck, Danny? What happened?' and he tells me that his cat disappeared one day a few weeks before and then he suddenly showed up again...only ginormous.
I looked around and sure enough, there's Popoki, laying there grooming himself like he does this everyday. (Which, c'mon, he's a cat. He probably does.)
Anyway, Danny says his cat was changed from a regular domestic cat to...whatever he is now but he remembered how much he cared about Danny and went back home to get him. And how, once they got to the abandoned warehouse, the other ginormous cats greeted him warmly and, after a few well-placed scritches, made him their leader. (It didn't hurt that Danny actually had opposable thumbs and could operate a can opener, but whatever.)
While he's telling me this, Popoki props one enormous paw on Danny lap and starts rubbing his face against Danny chest.
And I noticed Derek starting to rub his hand up and down my arm.
And then Popoki starts casually grooming Danny's hair.
And then Derek started licking-
(Nobody wants to hear this, Stiles, get on with the story.
(Fiiiiine.))
I asked Danny if he needed our help, because you know, we were all up in there for this epic rescue, but he said he was fine. He'd probably be home in a few days, one the clowder moved on, and would Derek mind them passing through his territory every once in a while?
Derek reluctantly agreed (once I could get him to stop aggressively grooming me.
(NO ONE WANTS TO HEAR THAT, STILES
(Pssh. Whatever.)))
as long as we had some kind of advance notice of them coming through.
Just as we were getting ready to leave, I heard yowling and hissing and Danny sounded positively beleaguered when he said, 'Crap, guys. Not again. Hey, um. Derek? Could you take him with you?'
We turned around and there's Jackson, half-scaly and FURIOUS, hanging by his tail from one of their mouths.
Danny said, 'Yeah. They keep doing that. No matter what I do, they won't stop chasing him.'
Derek and I looked at each other then back at Jackson and Derek said, 'No.' And we walked away.
(Yeah. That was real cute, too. I'm ALLERGIC to cats, as-jerkwads.
(Eh. You survived.))
And that's how Uncle Danny became Beacon Hills' King of the WereCats.
"You tell the BEST stories, Daddy."
Stiles looked around at the gathered pack, his friends and their kids (and Jackson) before elbowing his husband. "Ya hear that, Derek? I tell the best stories."
Derek was too busy aggressively grooming Stiles to comment.
Again.