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Late night phones calls usually don't bode well for the Hale pack and its members. This late night phone call really doesn't bode well for Derek mostly because Scott isn't doing anything about helping him. He’s his co-Alpha for fuck’s sake.
“She won’t leave me alone.”
Scott's chuckle is muffled half a second too late and has Derek glaring out at his view of the city.
“I really don't know what to tell you man.”
Derek really wishes he would have called Boyd or Isaac. Scott isn’t being proactive enough. He refuses to call Stiles on principle alone.
“Did you try taking her to Deaton’s?”
Derek sighs into the phone for the fifth time and tugs at his hair.
“Yes, but every time I get close to her, she either bolts or tries to bite me.”
It’s probably sleep deprivation that has his guard down enough to whisper into the phone conspiratorially.
“It’s like she knows I'm bringing her there to get rid of her.”
Scott huffs.
“Looks like she’s decided that she wants to keep you.”
Derek growls. The cat sitting in front of him and watching him with piercing green eyes twitches her tail. She looks unimpressed. He should know. When he first found her, hiding on top of his dresser, he had snarled. She had simply reached out, swatted his nose, rolled over, and went back to sleep. That was three days ago. He still hasn't figured out how she got in, who she belongs to, or why the hell she’s decided to stay. He’s taken her outside and left her there only to be woken up to her yowling for a drink from the sink. Whatever he does, she keeps coming back.
She doesn't even react when he “wolfs out” (thank you, Stiles) or picks her up with his claws. She licked them. It’s been three days, and he hasn't slept because he’s not used to the tiny heartbeat echoing out in the quiet of his loft. He’s used to Isaac and Cora being there, but they are both away at school with Stiles and Danny. The loss of sleep (now that he’s allowed to have it seeing as there hasn't been a supernatural creature threatening to rip apart a) his pack b) his territory or c) him) is throwing him off and making him desperate. Desperate enough to call Scott at two in the morning about the cat that just. won’t. leave. Desperate enough to be considering this...
“Do I get a discount on her shots?”
Scott, the helpful little shit that he is, laughs and hangs up the phone.
Derek’s just putting the cat up on the exam table for Deaton to start checking her over when his phone rings. Oh course, the cat had no qualms about leaving with him now because she knew he wasn't taking her in to get rid of her. He doesn't give a shit what Scott says. She knew it. He’s too busy wondering if his kitten is psychic (His life is weird enough that it could happen. He is a fucking Alpha werewolf that co-leads his pack with a True Alpha werewolf. It could happen.) to bother checking who is calling him. He slides his finger against the smartphone that Danny made him buy and holds it up to his ear.
“Her name is Kitty.”
He pulls the phone away to stare at it.
“Stiles, how the hell did you kn-”
Derek can feel the eye roll even though there are miles and miles between them.
“You seriously think Scott didn't call me the second he hung up on you? Dude, it’s like you don't even know us at all.”
Derek pinches the bridge of his nose. There’s something that he thinks might be a migraine building behind his eyes. Before he can reply, Stiles is off again.
“Besides Boyd sent me a video. I still don't believe a cat broke into your lair while you were sleeping, and you couldn't get it to leave.”
“It’s not a lair, Stiles.”
Stiles makes an agreeing sound.
“Yeah, it’s totally the Batcave.”
The conversation dissolves into why the name Stiles chose is perfect, why everyone has already agreed, why Derek needs to go to PetSmart and get “like one of everything in the Cat aisle,” and that they need to do pack Christmas cards with the cat. He hangs up on Stiles when he starts going off on a surprisingly detailed chronology about mistletoe and yes, he did know that it’s actually a parasitic fungus. Derek thinks he may be the first werewolf to ever experience what a migraine feels like. He has a whole new appreciation for the Sheriff now. Deaton just smiles pleasantly at him and hands him the bill.
He walks into PetSmart and stops just inside the main entrance to let his senses adjust. He knows how to rein himself and his presence in as to not frighten or, heaven forbid, attract the animals. (Cora was not allowed to go to petting zoos again after the Snow White Incident when she was 6). He hasn't quite learned how to do that concerning people. When his eyes open they land on one of the cashiers coming toward him, a girl that he thinks was in Scott’s class last year, giving him a thorough once over. The fact that he is carrying his cat around in his left boot doesn't seem to dissuade her at all.
Derek… panics. He panics. He’s gone head to head with his half feral, psychotic Uncle. He’s faced off hunters that wanted to cut him in half. He’s gone toe to toe with a pack of Alphas. He’s looked witches dead in the eye. But a single blonde twenty something girl, armed with only a handful of puppy treats in her apron and a smile, has his palms sweating. His brain comes up with a half thought out idea as she coos at the kitten. Kitty endures it but turns to give him a flat, annoyed look. The girl Rebecca, her name tag supplies, is asking him something. He answers with whatever his brain spits out.
“My boyfriend sent me to get supplies.”
The disappointment that washes over her face sends reliefs flooding through his veins. The faint hint of jealousy that her scent emits (and yes, she is that close that he can smell her over the lingering traces of cleaning chemical, wet dog, and fish) completely throws him off. Which is probably why he almost misses the challenging glint to her eyes and the determination growing behind her smile.
“What’s her name?”
“Kitty.”
Rebecca offers him a smile that looks smug and speaks with mocking laughter in her voice.
“Not the most creative guy is he?”
He really doesn't want to acknowledge exactly why he bristles at that. He takes a calming breath.
“It’s actually in reference to a comic book character.”
And it actually made sense. She did just kind of appear in his apartment like she just phased on through. He still couldn't figure out how she got in. She also loves Boyd. She turned into a mass of mewling fluff the second she set her sights on him… which led to Stiles calling Boyd Colossus because he couldn't stop fawning over her (seeing as Boyd already had 3 videos of her antics and a whole photo album dedicated to her on his phone two hours after discovering her in Derek’s loft) Derek didn't stop him from calling his beta that. He pulls the boot closer, levering Kitty away from her, and lets her rub up under his chin thoroughly removing the traces of Rebecca’s scent on her fur. That’s how another associate walks up to them. She pats at Rebecca’s hand gently.
“It’s time for your break, dear.”
Rebecca looks like she wants to refuse but relents as Maurine (name tags are great) gestures for Derek to follow her. She’s older, a grandmother probably, just looking for a way to keep busy. Derek follows after her quickly. She raises an eyebrow at the kitten who pops her head up over the edge of his boot. He nervously scratches at the back of his neck and immediately stops. He’s picking bad habits up from Stiles. He can't help but to feel chastised from her accessing look. Definitely a grandmother. Grandma Hale used to make him feel like he was always two seconds shy of breaking something. It was safe to say he was on his best behavior when she was around. He still tries to justify Kitty’s transport methods though.
“It’s a scent thing.”
She nods at him approvingly.
“It helps her feel safe.”
Her grin goes a little wry at the end as she motions to the shelves of cat carriers.
“Though I think she might be more comfortable in one of these in the future.”
He nods sheepishly and listens as she tells him where everything is and helps him start grabbing the essentials and piling it into a buggy that she’s somehow acquired. He thanks her profusely for her help (which she smirks at because they both know he’s thanking her for getting him away from Rebecca) and she leaves him to browse the rest of the store. He doesn't buy one of everything, but it is a close call.
“I still don't know how you managed to singe three pages of your lab report when you were doing a water soluble slide experiment.”
The pack has taken to using his loft as their party pad, game zone, and personal library when they're down on weekends and breaks. (Derek doesn’t mind as much since he patched up the hole in the wall and moved his bed into an actual room. He doesn’t mind having them around. He kind of misses the noise when they're away. He misses his pack. He's Alpha enough to admit it.) Isaac looks sheepish and quickly starts leafing through his notebook where a friend from class had scribbled down her results to help him figure out where he went wrong. She also has scribbled down her number next to a :) Katie. Scott laughs and claps him on the shoulder. He watches as Stiles sighs over the papers in his hands.
“You didn't even pay attention to the experiment. You just wrote stuff down didn't you? God, you're worse than Scott those first months with Allison.”
Scott starts ot protests, but Kitty bites at his fingers before he gets any words out. Derek grins.
"Good girl."
Scott flips Derek off. Stiles just shakes his head and yanks the notebook with Katie's notes on it. out of Isaac’s fingers.
“Whatever. I'll help fix your mess, but this is the first and last time.”
He glares at Isaac until he nods and searches the coffee table for something, moving papers and books around to grab a lead pen.
“Can somebody get my calculator out of my bag?”
When nobody moves (Scott and Isaac are pretending to be interested in Kitty. Danny is actually concentrating on his biology notes. He actually does his homework.) Derek gets up and riffles through the bag. He finds the calculator buried deep under books and binders and a random granola bar. He’s about to yell at Stiles for it. He seriously wonders why he goes through so many calculators when he finds it. He pulls it out and studies the plushy. He can hear Scott nearly dropping his cat. (She lands fine, spares him a glare, and trots over to Danny’s side to nap.) He makes a choked off sound that gets Isaac and Danny’s attention. Isaac is holding his breath. Danny smacks the back of Stiles’ head. Derek turns the plushy in his hand this way and that before looking over to a silent Stiles. He guesses from the look on Stiles face that an amused grin was the very last thing he expected from Derek.
“If you miss Jackson so much, you could of just texted him.”
Jackson’s been in London since his sophomore year of high school and had decided to go to college there at Oxford after he came back for their graduation and accepted his place in the pack. The laugh that wheezes from Stiles’ lungs is hysterical. Isaac still isn't breathing because Scott is all but collapsed on top of him howling with laughter. Danny just rolls his eyes and goes back to his notes with Kitty resting against his hip. Stiles shoves at his friends rolling on the floor laughing and rubs at his neck staring at the stuffed animal in Derek’s hands rather than looking in his eyes.
“Yeah, yeah. I just, I bought it as a gag gift and then my brain kind of caught up later, and I realized it would be a really shitty thing to do. What with happened and everything. So I just shoved it in there to return it and kind of forgot all about it.”
Isaac hiccups and crawls forward to snag the lizard out of Derek’s hands. He holds it above his head Simba style.
“JAX.”
Danny pelts him with an ink pen. Derek gives Stiles the calculator and tosses the plushy on the couch. Kitty pounces on it. He ignores Stiles' happy laugh.
“Good girl, Kitty.”
He comes home to find Isaac and Stiles sprawled out on their backs one weekend, basking in a sunbeam on the living room floor. The cat is languidly spread out over Stiles’ stomach and chest with the claws of one hind paw caught in Isaac’s shirt as if to keep him close. She opens her eyes to glare at him. Saying see, that’s how you train your pack. Derek rubs at her head and settles down next to them enjoying the quiet, even heartbeats in his ears and the sun beating down on his face. He still doesn't know how he slept through Cora coming in. He also doesn’t know why the picture she took of the four of them is still the background of his phone. He blames the cat for always bugging him whenever he tries to change it to something else.
(He makes a mental note to see if Deaton knows anything about cats with psychic abilities.)
Stiles drives down one weekday in a panic because he can't find the USB that has his paper that’s due on it.
“Like in four hours, Derek! And he won't give me a deadline extension because he thinks I’m trying to con him. He’s like a million times more of a dick than Harris!”
Derek wants to remind him that it might be because Stiles did con him once before saying he had picked up a bug during midterms when he actually had a hangover from Boyd’s birthday. But Derek keeps his mouth shut and helps Stiles search his apartment. Two hours later they've found a random amount of change, 3 hair elastics and 13 bobby pins that could belong to either Cora, Allison, or Lydia, Isaac’s dorm key, Danny’s chapstick, and a fork that he thinks actually belongs Melissa McCall. This just solidifies Boyd as his favorite because he picks up after himself. Just when Stiles starts to panic again, Kitty comes in… dragging the plushy along after her like a misbehaved pet. Stiles promptly and utterly loses his shit. Derek has to catch him from rolling off of the sofa and head first into the coffee table. Which is exactly where his USB drive is hiding under. Derek blinks in surprise.
“I think my cat is psychic.”
Stiles, mostly recovered, tilts his head back to look at where she’s gnawing on the lizard’s tail. She isn't fazed by the pack’s antics anymore. Derek honestly thinks she never was and that she just pretended to be frightened and hide at first just to throw them all off. Stiles nods seriously.
“I'll look into it.”
His cat is not psychic.
Stiles is way too disappointed.
Even more so than Derek.
(He still can't figure out how she got in... or how she knows when the popcorn is going to burn before he does.)
Kitty likes to claw up Derek's arms so she can perch herself on his shoulders. Stiles likes to say that it’s to get a better view of her domain. Isaac is concerned that she has a Napoleon complex. She does it occasionally to Scott. She likes that he still moves around as if he doesn't have a giant ball of soot colored fluff clinging to him. The first time she did it to Stiles was to get up to his hair and figure out where the extra came from. She hadn't seen him at all for 3 months (He couldn't get away from school, and he bitched and bitched and bitched about it. All Derek had to do was remind him that he was the one that willingly took 21 hours of classes to get him to shut up… for a while). She batted at it a few times before she started to rub all over, purring so loudly that it sounded like a Harley revving in his living room. (Derek really couldn't blame her though. He'd had the same thought to bury his face in Stiles’ longer hair and to let it curl around his fingers.)
She would climb up arms and legs or whatever she had to just to get up to Stiles’ shoulder and curl up between his neck and collarbone. Stiles would always laugh gently, scratch at her ears, and keep doing what he was doing, careful not the dislodge her or wake her up. She’s not much of a kitten anymore, but that doesn't stop her from getting her Stiles' naps in.
“I don't really see how she can sleep there. I'm not that comfortable. I'm still all skin and bones, now with added wiry muscles!”
Stiles makes a vague gesture towards Derek as he writes something into the margin of his paper.
“You have way more nap time real-estate than me. And the last thing anyone will ever call me is comfortable. But hey, cats are mysterious beings. I mean Kitty adopted an Alpha werewolf. That’s either brain damage or a complete lack of self preservation.”
Derek snorts from where he’s flipping through an old lore book. There’s been a slight uptick in fairy circles. It’s probably nothing, it’s a circle of mushrooms for crying out loud, but he’s learned to not take chances. Scott’s already brought one of the mushrooms to Deaton to dissect and study.
“I thought the same about you for the longest time. I just realized that it wasn’t one or the other. It was both.”
Derek catches the highlighter thrown at his face without looking up. Mostly it's just to hear Stiles grumble under his breath about stupid werewolves and their stupid werewolf reflexes. He lets himself smile at the book on his lap instead of voicing his other opinion out loud. Stiles isn't soft, in any sense of the word. But he's wrong about being comfortable. He the most comforting thing Derek's probably ever going to know for the rest of his life.
That thought is dangerous. It makes something curl in Derek’s stomach. It leaves him feeling too warm and unsettled. It makes his heart stutter. It leaves him with Laura’s voice in his head singsonging: You are so fucked.
“Dude, your cat is trying to eat your face.”
Isaac is laughing at him. Derek ignores him, and Stiles’ gawking. He’s been doing that a lot lately. Not ignoring Stiles but ignoring the thoughts that he brings up in Derek’s head. It’s lead to a lot of late night runs through the preserve. Kitty keeps on nudging his chin and licking at his jaw. He’s given up on trying to get her to stop. It’s either let her get her way or let himself give into his thoughts and really, he’s going to let his cat lick him because that’s the lesser of two evils. He really can’t ignore Scott’s snickering, though. Why did he want him in his pack again?
“She’s grooming him.”
Stiles grins and flings himself down into the leather chair that he’s claimed as his even after Derek has painstakingly reminded him that it isn’t. He rolls his eyes at Isaac’s amused face.
“She’s recognizing our pack’s social hierarchy.”
Isaac tilts his head like a confused puppy. Stiles stretches out one of his legs to nudge at Derek’s knee with the toe of his sneakers. Then promptly drops it on the coffee table with a smirk.
“Come on. You know you want to say it.”
Derek rolls his eyes. His fingers are still tucked into Kitty’s fur giving her a well deserved scritch behind the ears.
“I’m the Alpha.”
Scott has the decency to cover his laugh with his hand. Stiles sends him a blinding grin. It makes that feeling in his chest swell. He viciously tamps it down. He lets Kitty touch her cold nose to his before she scampers over his legs, onto the coffee table, before using Stiles’ propped up leg like a bridge. She settles in her usual spot and promptly falls asleep. Isaac is watching her curiously. Then he turns that curious look to Stiles. Something akin to fear pings through Derek as his beta opens his mouth.
“So, she’s going to do that to all of us?”
Stiles keeps smoothing his palm down her flank almost reflexively. He grins up at Isaac and Scott who has his giggle fit under control.
“Nah, cats only do that to the dominant pack members as a show of respect.”
Scott shrugs his shoulders when Isaac looks to him to confirm.
“Is this kind of like how she brings me dead things?”
This time Stiles is the one to laugh. He laughs so hard he dislodges Kitty who swipes at his cheek halfheartedly and moves back into position. Scott’s the one to explain.
“Uh, not really. Cats only do that to uh…”
Stiles breaks off his laughing fit to add to the conversation.
“Kitty is bringing you food because she doesn't think you can survive on your own!”
He wheezes some more and manages to get out another sentence.
“She trying to teach you how to hunt!”
Kitty gives up trying to sleep on Stiles. She slinks away from them all with a dismissive flick of her tail. Isaac watches her go with a confused frown.
“But, I'm a werewolf.”
He sounds dejected. Stiles howls with laughter. He slides down the chair to hold his stomach. Scott looks amused and apologetic. Isaac looks betrayed. Derek has to force himself not to laugh, but he can't help but to smile. Scott claps him on the shoulder and tries to reassure him. Eventually he gives up and distracts him with pizza rolls. Derek should probably be more worried that his pack is easily distracted by frozen snack products.
Cora buys her a black collar adored with silver spikes. He’s pretty sure it’s meant for a Chihuahua or something. But Kitty likes it and prances around the apartment with her tail high in the air like she’s showing it off. Cora also buys a sparkly purple leash to go with it. (It reminds him of Erica so much it hurts.) Derek refuses to put either on her or be seen in public let alone in front of pack with her in them. Which is exactly why he finds himself walking his cat around the park with her sparkly purple leash and spiked leather collar after Cora and Boyd ditched him to go get ice cream together. He is still wondering how exactly they happened under his nose when Kitty pounces on a boot that looks distressingly familiar.
Derek kind of wishes that Stiles would have let that witch turn him invisible. He thinks about finding her and pissing her off again just to get that particular jinx put on him this time. The Sheriff is finished giving Kitty a leisurely pet just around the same time Derek's brains decides to be rational. It’s just the Sheriff. What’s the worst that can happen besides embarrassing himself in front of his sometimes boss and friend and packmate’s father? Then the Sheriff is smiling at him, the same smile Stiles has that promises nothing but trouble, and his phone is making that horrible camera shutter sound. He straightens while tapping away at his phone before putting it away like nothing ever happened.
“So this is Miss Kitty Pryde Hale.”
Derek is at a complete loss for words. Since the big reveal, the Sheriff has been surprisingly welcoming to the pack. He has hosted Derek and the rest of the pack for dinner multiple times. He has since issued a standing open invitation to any and all station events to them. He and Derek have lunch at least once a week to compare notes. Derek takes a look at any of the cases that may have relations to the supernatural; he even consults on normal ones. The Sheriff had managed to get Derek a contract with the department as a tracker and behavior analyst. Laura was right; his Psychology degree did come in handy.
The Sheriff helps him out when some of his and the packs problems branch out into human life. John even helped them resettle a coven of Nymphs in Colorado by calling a favor with the department chief there who was in the know. He respects the Sheriff and enjoys his company. And no matter what John says, Derek isn't spying on him for Stiles. He’s just keeping an eye on the Sheriff’s heart. So what if he pushes for salads and heart healthy foods when they eat a meal together? Derek likes to stick to a healthy diet.
“Yeah. She just kind of showed up and wouldn't leave.”
John smiles at him fondly.
“Glad you’ve got some company while the kids are away.”
Derek shrugs. He’s not really lonely. He’s still got Boyd and Scott at the Vocational College at the edge of town. Scott is getting his Veterinary degree, and Boyd is working on his park ranger certification and Forestry degree. Cora is at the community college getting her gen eds out of the way. Derek can sense Jackson in London and Peter, wherever the hell he is, if he focuses. He makes sure to text Lydia, Allison, Danny, and Stiles at least once every few days just to check in. Actually, they're usually the ones to text him.
He has a constant ongoing text battle with Lydia where they send each other increasingly harder riddles. Danny likes to use him as a sounding board for ideas. He’s been on the opposite side in preparation for Danny’s debates more than once. Jackson sends him a weekly text update of "I'm alive. Nobody dead. Weather is still shit." Even Allison keeps him up to date, if you call sending him Snapple facts up to date. Cora is always calling, usually to see if she can convince him to write her papers for her. Stiles is constantly sending him random facts and pictures and sometimes rap lyrics. Derek’s fine. He can’t miss his pack when they're always bugging him. He’s fine, really. He’s about to tell the Sheriff that when John pats him on the shoulder.
“I'll see you Thursday. Lunch at Rick’s?”
Derek nods and easily accepts and returns the hug the older man pulls him into. He’s not even a foot away from the Sheriff when his phone blows up with notifications. It’s alerting him to the numerous messages from his pack. There’s a voicemail from Stiles that sounds like he’s falling down stairs and laughing the entire time. Scott’s text message is a simple DUDE. Isaac’s is some emoticon with hearts for eyes. He ignores the rest of the texts and overlapping incoming calls.
Derek finds the nearest tree and starts to slowly beat his head against it. If the town of Beacon Hills thinks that’s weird behavior for Derek Hale, they don't show it.
Those fairy circles he was worried about? Turns out he had a right to be worried. They tried to kidnap a kid. Stiles and Danny tracked the boy by his cell phone then the pack sent the fairies back to wherever the fuck they came from. Unfortunately, it was also the same night as Isaac’s first date with Katie. She thought he stood her up, and she wouldn't return his calls. She did let him apologize to her in class but brushed off any other contact. So that weekend when Danny, Isaac, and Stiles came back into town they decide to take Isaac to the Jungle to nurse his wounds. Scott goes with them to keep an eye on things.
They get drunk, Isaac off of the bottles of aconite laced liquor Peter regularly sends to the pack, and Danny and Stiles with whatever is bought for them from other patrons after Scott makes sure it’s safe. They dance and drink and sing and laugh. The regulars seem to give them privacy in the corner booth the pack had claimed as theirs, and even when they're on the dance floor, the drag queens seem to make it a point that the general public give them some space. Between Danny and Stiles’ connections and Scott keeping a watchful on them, the night goes smoothly.
The morning after usually doesn’t. When Derek wakes up, he takes a second to take stock of the heartbeats in his loft. Stiles is asleep on the couch in the living room with Kitty's tiny heartbeat close by. Scott isn’t in the loft anymore, but his scent is still strong. Danny and Isaac are crashed out in Isaac’s room. Cora is at Boyd’s which isn't unusual. She likes to help him watch his little brother and sisters on Saturday mornings (and she’s always loved Saturday morning cartoons). He gets out of bed to start a huge pot of coffee. Stiles is still out even with Kitty sleeping on his chest. He doesn't hear his heartbeat stir until the pot is on and the smell of coffee drifts out into the open floor plan of the loft. Stiles groans.
“Tequila has failed me.”
Derek fails to hold back a laugh. Stiles glares at him over the back of the couch as he gently removes Kitty and places her on the floor to stand. He shuffles over the counter and plops down on a barstool. Derek hands him a mug of hot coffee; black like Stiles likes it. He tries not to breathe through his nose. It smells like Stiles bathed in booze. Derek slides a bottle of aspirin across the counter to him.
“Take some of those then go take a shower.”
He grunts but does as he’s told taking his coffee with him. Danny comes in already showered looking a little worse for wear, but he still offers Derek a warm smile and accepts the cup of coffee placed in front of him. Isaac comes down ten minutes later and all but pours himself onto a stool. He grumbles until Derek gives him his own coffee, heavy on the sugar. Even with the shower, he smells slightly of wolfsbane and alcohol (Peter doesn't mess around with his booze). By the time Stiles comes back out, dressed in one of Derek’s shirts and some of his own sweats, Scott is back with two heaping bagfuls of McDonald’s breakfast. Stiles moans at the sight and high tails it to the living room. Danny is quick to follow. Isaac shuffles over smelling miserable. It’s not just the hangover. Derek pulls him into a quick hug and leads him over to the couch. Stiles wraps an arm around Isaac and squeezes once he sits.
“You know that she still asks about you though, right?”
Isaac perks up at that.
“Really?”
“Yeah, dude. We have historical geology together. She still likes you. She’s just hurt, you know? Give her some time.”
Isaac nods and even smiles when Scott hand him a McGriddle. Stiles bites messily into one of the sausage, egg, and cheese biscuits he’s hoarded for himself.
“You've got your bros and some greasy hangover food. Now all we need now is to watch shit blow up!”
Derek rolls his eyes, but Isaac looks so much better than he had when they got in Friday night. Scott queues up Isaac’s favorite action movies.
Stiles falls back asleep halfway into The Bourne Legacy stuffed with three breakfast biscuits, fours hash browns, and two cups of jet black coffee. Kitty claws up his shirt where he’s slumped into the couch. She starts to lick at his temple and gives him an impressive cowlick in the process of grooming him. Stiles shifts and wrinkles his nose.
“Not the llamas, Scott. Not the llamas.”
Everyone is staring at him as Kitty butts her nose against his. He giggles in his sleep as Kitty flounces off of him and wanders out of the room with a sharp tail flick in her owner’s direction. Derek doesn’t meet Isaac’s or Scott’s eyes. He refuses to look at Danny with his judgmental dimples.
“Did she just-”
“Does that mean-”
“That makes Sti-”
He cuts over them with a low growl.
“Not. Another. Word.”
He turns up the volume to prevent them from saying anything else. …even if he is kind of curious about the llamas.
Thanksgiving break has the pack taking over his loft. It’s good for the first few days at least. The fourth day comes with an argument over movie choices that lasts for a good three hours. It’s mostly a harmless petty argument over who’s a better Spiderman. Stiles interjects that Donald Glover still would have been the better choice regardless of appreciation of Andrew Garfield. That gets Isaac off on a tangent about something called Community and somebody Harmon that has Scott looking betrayed. Derek just leaves them alone to work it out in the living room while he goes to find something to eat in the kitchen. Lydia’s there with a cup of tea flipping through the paper and getting re-acclimated with the on goings in Beacon Hills while she’s been away at school in Boston. (Like she doesn’t keep up with everything when she’s there anyway.)
“Oh, look. They’re doing the Pet Show during the Fall Fest again.”
Derek maneuvers around Stiles where he’s sprawled languishly against the counter between Lydia and the fridge. He looks up from the carton of cold lo mein in his hands to find Stiles grinning at him. Derek knows that look and that mischievous glint in his eyes. It’s gotten them both in trouble more times than he can count. He narrows his eyes, but Stiles just keep grinning. Life was easier when he was afraid of Derek. (He admits it was also boring.)
“We should enter Kitty.”
Derek has a fork full of noodles in his mouth. If he didn't, he would have snorted. Instead, Lydia does it for him. He turns his glare on her. His hackles rise at her dismissive tone. Lydia flips her hair over one shoulder taking a sip from her tea demurely.
“Please, like she could compete with Prada. Her pedigree is flawless.”
Derek does not let his eyes flare, but it’s a close thing. He loves Lydia. He does. He reminds her a lot of his mom, Talia; strong, fierce, intelligent, beautiful outside and in. But that doesn't mean that sometimes he doesn't want to strangle her. He knows that he shouldn't be getting this defensive over her insinuating that his cat is a mutt. She is. Deaton said that she’s got a lot of Siberian in her, but she’s not as fluffy (thanks for that technical terminology Scott, really) as she should be given the breed. So what? His cat is a damn good cat. Stiles seems to be having the same problem.
“Are you kidding me? Kitty would wipe the floor with Prada. And I don't just mean in the competition either.”
The smile he gives her is all teeth. But it’s the heat pooling in his eyes, the molten honey glinting of challenge, that has Derek’s mind grinding to a halt. He’s still lounging against the counter. but his head is raised, chin tucked down. He hasn't broken eye contain with Lydia. He isn't backing down. All those thoughts Derek’s been so good about ignoring and shoving deep down come flaring back to life. He has to physically bite his tongue to stop from whimpering at the site of Stiles display of dominance, of him not backing down from a challenge.
Jesus fucking Christ. Derek focuses on putting the carton down on the counter before he drops it. He turns away from the staring match to get a bottle of water from the fridge and to get himself under control. Thank god the others are busy arguing, Boyd and Cora are still out, and that Danny is at a movie with his boyfriend. Derek practically reeks of lust and arousal right now. It helps to remind himself that it’s just a fight over his freaking cat, a little. It doesn't really help that they are both still locked in a heated stare when he turns back around. Derek takes a breath and forces himself to calm down. There is only one way to settle this.
Apparently his body has not received the calm the fuck down message his brain is sending because he leans into Stiles as he looks over the advertisement in the paper to check the deadline. He unconsciously memorizes the way Stiles fits so nicely under him as he digs out a pen from the junk drawer at Stiles left hip. He places it by Stiles’ hand lingering a moment so the lean line of Stiles’ body is pressed flush to him from mid chest to thigh.
“I can drop it off before I meet with your dad for lunch on Wednesday.”
Stiles grins at him. It’s genuine and bursting with affection. Derek shrugs and ignores the way his insides light up at the sight. He notices that when Stiles turns that smile to Lydia is loses the intensity, but the affection is still there. It’s just dulled by challenging raise of an eyebrow. Lydia raises an eyebrow right back as she places her half finished mug on the counter.
“We'll just have to let the judges decide.”
Stiles clinks the pen and grins as she turns to leave.
“See you in the ring, Martin.”
She’s barely out the door when Stiles starts scribbling in the information the form asks for. Then he’s off on a tangent about strategy and routine and research grabbing at the magnetic notepad Derek, Cora, and Isaac use for grocery lists or quick notes to each other. (The most prominent one being “For fucks’ sake Cora stop leaving your damn coffee mugs everywhere!” Stiles always ends up spilling the half finished ones.) He scribbles a list of things to do and darts out of the kitchen just to dart back in to grab the carton of discarded lo mein and give Derek a quick energetic hug.
“We are so going to kick Lydia’s ass!”
The hugging thing isn't new. The pack has been steadily growing more tactile since the aftermath of the Alphas. Hugs were normal. Derek’s just stuck on the realization that Stiles had said we.
We should enter Kitty. We are going to kick Lydia’s ass.
He really likes the sound of it. We and our and us. He likes the sound of those too as long as it's with Stiles. And isn't today just a day of epiphanies? Kitty hops up on the counter and mewls. Derek pets her and drops his head to his forearm on the counter.
“I am so fucked.”
Kitty just mewls again and head buts him before prancing away.
“No, we aren't using Cora.”
Derek fights the urge to groan and just go back to bed. Leave it to Stiles to corner him before he’s had his coffee and want to start a heated discussion about who’s going to show the damn cat in the Pet Show in a few days. He blearily grabs his mug and fills it with the rich coffee. He grumbles his answer into the mug, and Stiles easily understands it. Not even Cora can do that, even Laura couldn’t. That should have been a huge sign right there that he’s closer to Stiles than anyone else.
“I'm not saying she’s not pretty or that she has a shitty personality.”
Derek raises an eyebrow. She did have a shitty personality after they got her back. But then again Derek wasn't a ray of fucking sunshine to be around back then. They worked out their issues, and Cora went from untrusting asshole to slightly wary prankster pain in the ass that he knew her to be. She and Stiles got along too well sometimes. Stiles just ignores him and pours his own cup of coffee. He hands Derek the half ‘n half from the fridge too knowing that he’s had enough unadulterated coffee to get him back online and that he prefers his coffee creamy. And really, that’s another huge sign right there.
“I’m saying that she'd probably wolf out on the competition. I want this to be a fair fight.”
Derek gives a noncommittal hum. He wouldn't put it past her to scare the animals or the humans.
“Not Cora. And definitely not Boyd. Kitty would be too distracted. Scott is too biased, he knows all the pets in the competition and he thinks “they're all winners”.”
Derek snorts at the air quotes.
“Allison’s allergies will make her look like she’s crying on stage, and she doesn't want to go against her best friend. My dad is going to be busy running the Department's Pie in the Face booth. Danny can’t do it because he has a date. I can’t do it because while I am adorable, and this whole town loves me – “
He points a finger at Derek’s smirking face.
“They do Derek! They just refuse to admit it! I need to record this for posterity. So who? Who else is there?”
He’s about to point to himself when it this him then that Stiles hadn’t considered Derek because he knew it would make him feel uncomfortable. He knows how Derek was used by Kate. He knows how much Derek hates using his body and his looks to get people to do what he wants. Stiles didn't even entertain the idea because he didn't want to put Derek through that. He didn't want Derek to feel used. Derek's heart stutters in his chest. Stiles, oblivious to Derek’s thoughts, taps at his coffee mug and pulls Derek out of his head with a name.
“Isaac!”
“Isaac?”
Stiles lips slowly pull up into a calculating grin.
“Besides having cheekbones of mass destruction? The dude can do the puppy dog eyes better than Scott, better than puppies.”
Stiles rubs his hands together.
“And he’s not afraid of Lydia, well not that afraid of Lydia. It’s perfect.”
He leaves his mug on the table to bound up the spiral staircase. Derek keeps his ears on him because while Stiles has grown into himself he’s still more than a little clumsy. He hears Isaac’s door thrown open and his beta groan as he rolls over to tell Stiles to get the hell out. Stiles ignores him. There’s the sounds of the bed shifting and Stiles throwing his weight on it.
“You're going to be Kitty’s handler in the Pet Show.”
Isaac starts to talk but Stiles powers over him.
“Katie wants to interview my dad for her a research project for one of her humanities classes. She’s free Friday, and it’s only a 45 minutes drive away. I told her I had a friend that wouldn't mind showing her around while she’s here.”
There’s a second where all Derek hears is the excited beating of Isaac and Stiles’ hearts. Then Isaac is groaning into a pillow.
“Fine.”
Stiles is still shouting when he comes running into the kitchen. He all but slams into Derek for a hug. He returns it easily while holding his coffee out of the way. He lets himself pull in a lungful of Stiles' scent. It’s excited and happy and it makes Derek feel warm all over. Stiles is pulling back too soon, but Derek lets him go. Stiles flops on the couch pulling Kitty on his lap, talking to her excitedly about destroying the competition, and how much he’s going to enjoy the look on Lydia’s face when Kitty wins. Derek takes his time finishing his coffee. He tries to convince himself that this, these small moments with Stiles, is enough.
They run into a few problems at the Pet Show. The first problem being that they are from a small town. That’s why they have an annual Pet Show. They usually don't have enough dog owners willing to parade around their canines so the Fall Fest council offered up an all inclusive Pet Show. The second problem with this year’s Pet Show? Little Abigail Summers entered her iguana. Who the fuck lets their nine year old get an iguana? Stiles mirrors his thoughts aloud.
“Who the fuck lets their nine year old get an iguana?”
Derek doesn't bother to answer. He’s too busy watching Isaac and Kitty. Isaac is a little nervous being in front of half the town without his lacrosse gear as armor. Derek gets that. He does. But his cat is also getting very close to the reptile. The whole pack knows how much she loves reptiles. She gnawed Jax to death and left the carcass of the plushy for Isaac to find in his schoolbag. Stiles grips at his arm.
“Dude, can you like Alpha her to stand down?”
Derek spares a second to glare at him.
“She licked my claws, Stiles. Licked them.”
Stiles flails without looking away. Kitty is right next to the lizard; her tail twisting back and forth, even and steady like a pendulum. Derek is tense all over. The Sheriff is going to have to arrest him because his cat killed some kid’s iguana. He reiterates; his life is fucking weird. Stiles fingers are clenched so tight around his arm he’s cutting off the blood circulation to Derek's fingers. He misses something, too focused on Stiles’ rapid heartbeat, because all of a sudden the whole crowd is ooing and awing over something. He looks back to the stage, not even realizing he wasn't looking anymore, to see Kitty rubbing herself up under the chin of the iguana and purring up a storm. Isaac schools his confused look into a sheepish smile. The audience eats that shit right up. Stiles releases his grip long enough to adjust his phone to zoom in some more.
“Look at Lydia’s face!”
The redhead (strawberry blonde, whatever Stiles) is glaring at Derek so hard he’s surprised that he hasn't spontaneously combusted yet. If he takes half a step back and closer to Stiles’ side, well that's his business.
“Suck it, Martin!”
Derek snorts but doesn't correct him. His phone trills at him, so he pulls it out to see a text from Danny. He opens the message in worry because he thought Danny was on a date at the carnival on the other side of town. When he reads the message, it’s just a forwarded picture of Kitty nuzzling the Iguana. Danny has added text to make it look like one of those meme things Stiles sends him all the time. The caption reads JAX AND KITTY 5EVER. He doesn't get it. Stiles does. He cracks up laughing during a mastiff’s walk. The lady standing near them scoffs and moves further away. Stiles takes Derek's phone and forwards it to everyone in the pack with a cackle. He smirks at Derek.
“Apparently, he’s everyone’s type after all.”
Derek doesn't get that either, but Stiles looks too happy, so he lets it go. They watch Lydia walk with Prada. Derek knows jackshit about dog shows or pet shows, but it’s Lydia. So he knows that she did everything perfectly. He zones out during the next few participants' runs. It’s easy to do because Stiles is leaning up against him, warm and present and reeking of contentment. He said that it was to help him stabilize his arm for the camera. It would make more sense if he was actually bracing the arm holding the camera against Derek. This isn't normal behavior for them. Sure, the pack have no sense of personal space anymore, and Stiles has always been a tactile person. Derek just had it burned out of him. Stiles was the one that showed Derek that it was okay to be that again, to seek the comfort of touch.
But the past week, Stiles has touched him when it was unwarranted. He’s touched Derek for the sake of touching. He’s touched with intent. His cat might not be psychic, but she's pretty fucking insightful. She'd basically told him that Stiles was worthy of the same status as Derek in their pack. Derek has always known that, but it’s different being shown it. Derek stares at the side of Stiles' face with something like hope in his chest. He nearly falls over when Stiles turns to him with a wide grin, amber eyes flaring whiskey gold in the afternoon light.
“Kitty’s up.”
He nods and swallows. Stiles tilts his head toward him.
“You okay?”
Derek nods and easily returns his smile.
“Fine.”
He turns away to watch as Isaac lifts Kitty for the judge to inspect her. He can feel Stiles' eyes linger on him for a few seconds more before turning around and letting out a shout. Derek doesn't let himself stifle the chuckle he feels bursting out of him at Stiles’ antics. They watch as Isaac walks Kitty around. She cat preens under the attention, sashaying across the stage. When they get back to their spot again, she climbs, quick as lightning, to perch on Isaac’s shoulder. She rubs her face against his cheek happily. The crowd coos. Stiles elbows him in the ribs.
“Kitty’s got them right where she wants them.”
And she does. She’s gotten Derek where he wanted to be. She’s gotten Derek where he wanted to be with Stiles. Derek’s had a festering thought in the back of his mind for a while now. That when they called the winner (Kitty of course) he'd pull Stiles in and kiss him. But he doesn't want to have an out. Derek doesn't want to get sacred and blame it on the adrenaline. He doesn't want Stiles to think that. So he pulls away gently. Stiles shifts, turning to Derek with a look of confusion. Derek cups Stiles' face in his hands and kisses him how he thinks Stiles deserves to be kissed. It's soft and sure, but he can't help letting the tip of his tongue glide across his bottom lip just to taste him. Just once. When Derek pulls back, the look of confusion is still on Stiles face along with a look of concern.
Derek thinks that maybe he read too much into things. Doubt is settling cold and hard in his gut just as Stiles grabs him. He anchors one hand in Derek’s hair and kisses him. Derek should have known that Stiles kisses with everything he has. He uses the scant inch he has on Derek to pull him in closer. Derek goes willingly, splaying his hands across Stiles' back, and chasing after the taste just as Stiles pulls away.
"Took you long enough."
He bites at Stiles’ bottom lip in reprimand. It gets him fingers curling into his shirt and the hand in his hair angling his head to the side for better leverage. He is vaguely aware that people are talking, and he thinks he hears his name being called. There's clapping and a wolf whistle. It’s hard to think past Stiles warm and flush against him. It's hard to care about anything other than the lips trying to devour him whole. He is aware of Lydia storming up to them. She smells like fury and fondness. She shoves the huge blue Best in Show ribbon into Derek’s back pocket.
“I'm torn between being absolutely furious that your cat beat Prada through devious manipulation or congratulating you both for finally getting your shit together.”
Stiles manages to flip her off and do something with his tongue that makes Derek moan in the back of his throat.
Jackson keeps texting Stiles. He's heard all about the plushy and is furious. Stiles is too busy making out with Derek to care.
A week later there’s a framed clipping of the front page of the Beacon Hills Herald. It’s a picture one of the photographers took of Stiles and Derek kissing. The headline that’s been clipped and placed over the photo reads Best in Show. It smells overwhelmingly of Stiles. He can't wait until finals are over. (Stiles feels the same if the increasingly dirty text messages Derek gets at odds hours mean anything.)
He puts the frame on top of his dresser next to the blue ribbon.
Kitty looks smug from her napping spot.
He can't stop smiling all day.
All because of his cat.