"Dude, you know Derek's going to freak the fuck out as soon as he sees that thing." Scott said, his hand gesturing to the white ball of fluff curled up in Stiles' palm.
"Oh, he'll be cool. Just cause he's a total sourwolf doesn't mean I'm not gonna help the poor little kitty!" He grinned, the end of his sentence in the tone of someone talking to a baby as he prodded the aforementioned fluff in his palm with his other hand. Scott rolled his eyes.
"Whatever, your funeral." The wolf murmured, shrugging his shoulders carelessly. Whatever. Scott's stupid. Derek would be entirely okay with Stiles bringing a kitten home. After all, it was homeless, hurt and obviously starved. Maybe Derek will have some serious motherly-maternal instinct kick in and he'll love it even more than he loves Stiles. Maybe.
As he turned to Scott; totally ready to backfire at him with his fluent sarcasm and humour, he noticed Scott was already gone. Rude. So, instead of barrelling his wit at his more than oblivious to everything best friend, he hauled his keys out of his pocket and unlocked his jeep.
He looked around the backseat for like, an old jacket or something, to wrap the kitten in. He didn't really want to use the one he was wearing at the moment cause come on, it's a good jacket! But alas, he found one of Derek's stupidly-well-fitting-and-entirely-comfortable leather jackets and curled it up on the passenger seat, softly plonking the little kitten into it before getting in the drivers seat and making his way home, which was Derek's house. He's decided to move in when he and Derek became a thing and Stiles thought that would bring danger upon his dad, you know, angry outside wolves that wanna challenge Derek by killing his mate and his mates family. Yeah, he didn't really want that. So instead he moved in with mr sourwolf.
He drove through the woods, softly drumming the pads of his fingers on the steering wheel in beat with the radio, singing the lyrics under his breath. Panic! At The Disco was a guilty pleasure of his, okay? Not that he could name one song, the titles are all so damned long and he was pretty sure they had nothing to do with the songs, like Fall Out Boy. Who the fuck even started that trend and why?
He pulled into the driveway, turning his keys and pulling them out of the ignition before slinging his backpack over one shoulder, and gently grabbed the kitten, leaving Derek's jacket to sit there. He noticed his partners sleek, black car wasn't parked out the front and he assumed he was off on some werewolf alpha business. Or maybe just walking around in the woods, howling and pissing on trees like the complete lone wolf he is. Stiles sniggered at the image that put in his head.
He stepped on the front porch, letting his bag completely drop off his shoulder with a few shrugs before wrapping both his palms around the kittens middle and holding him up lion king style. "This is your new home, embrace it!" He almost shouted, tempted to do a full on spin as if he was showing off his new little buddy. Not exactly sure who to, but hey. It's his first pet ever. Derek totally doesn't count. Even when wolfed out.
He carried the little fluffball inside and put it on the carpet, it didn't actually seem too hurt, just lacking a whole lot of body fat. Stiles ran to the kitchen, grinning as the little kitten pattered behind him. He looked through the cupboards, hopeful but uncertain as to why Derek would have cat food, but it didn't really matter cause he didn't. Stiles sighed. It's okay he can make-do, feeding a kitten couldn't be that hard could it? And even at the thought of feeding his stomach made this unsettling grumble which he was entirely convinced wasn't human.
He dug into the fridge, they really needed to go shopping. All they had was eggs, half a container of butter, some old browning lettuce and an unopened package of cheese. He sighed, pulling the eggs out of the fridge before looking down at the kitten.
"So, like, what do you eat? Help me out here. Should I go scouting for a dead bird or can go do that yourself? Unless you want some buttery cheese. We have that." He rambled on, pulling a fry pan from the cupboard under sink and cracking eggs into it once it had heated up. The kitten actually mew'd at him in response and he felt pretty smug; the little fluffball actually communicated back with him. Aw yeah. Stiles Stilinski, cat whisperer, he can see his name in lights.
Once the eggs were cooked he ushered them onto a plate before literally collapsing in the dining room table chair, letting out a huff of breath. School really tires him, okay? Especially with lacrosse practice. It takes energy to be a 5 star bench warmer. He started scoffing down the eggs and couldn't help his grin as his fluffy little feline friend helped himself onto the table, sitting next to his plate innocently.
There was some seriously intense eye contact between teenager and cat going on right now, and about 35 seconds in, Stiles threw his hands up in defeat. "Fine, fine, you can have some," he grumbled "but now the offer of scouting for dead bird is totally off the table. You're on your own kiddo." He continued as he forked at the firm yolk of the egg, dropping forkfuls of it in front of the fluffball and watched him stuff it down like crazy fast, his eyebrow cocked. "Oh. Okay. Totally didn't think cats ate eggs. I'm gonna call you Egg." He smiled, scratching the top of the kittens head before devouring the rest of his food.
After he managed to pull himself up from the chair he ended up actually giving Egg a tour of Derek's creepy mansion, the little kitten carelessly trotting behind his steps. He literally looked like the girl kitten from The Aristocats. But a lot dirtier. Egg was like the peasant-male version of her. And he was now totally Stiles' best friend, screw Scott.
He scooped the kitty under his arm and flopped onto the couch, flicking on the tv he'd made Derek get after he moved in and put on stupid cartoons which he didn't really pay attention to, he just scratched behind Egg's ear until they both drifted asleep.
He was awoken- what he was sure was a few hours later, the sun had gone down- by the sound of a car door slamming and he instantly jumped to his feet, straightening up then totally freaking out as he heard a thump against the ground which was definitely him dropping Egg. He cursed under his breath and picked the white ball of fluff up, shushing him, then hiding him behind his back as he scurried to the front door, standing nervously and waiting for Derek to make his entrance. The kitten all but laid in his palms restlessly but didn't make a noise. Stiles couldn't help the smug little smirk; he's totally a cat whisperer. Dating a werewolf. Oh well, he'll make it work.
He straightened up and smiled brightly as the door handle clicked, and not even a second later Derek was right in front of Stiles, his eyebrows racing to his hairline. "What's that smell?" He muttered, his nostrils flaring.
"Okay, Derek, I'll tell you what that smell is if 1. You promise not to freak out, 2. You promise not to kill whatever it is, 3. You let me keep it, 4.-"
"Stiles." Derek groaned, interrupting his ramblings.
"No no, no! Hear me out-" He went to begin again but Derek let out another exasperated groan.
"No. Stiles. I mean I know what you've got."
"What! How could you possibly know!? I didn't even tell you yet!" He all but shouted, his face looking surprised but his eyebrows shot up defensively. Defensive eyebrows? Maybe he could send them into battle one day. With swords and everything. He was torn out of his thoughts as he saw Derek's hand suggesting to the floor, his expression looking entirely unimpressed.
Stiles looked to where he was pointing — oh, oh. That's how he knew. He hasn't even noticed Egg jump out of his hands, but there he was, strutting off into the kitchen. He quickly turned back to Derek, an innocent grin gracing his lips as he attempted puppy eyes.
"I'm not freaking out," Derek started, holding up one finger to Stiles. "And I won't kill it," he held up a second finger. "If you get rid of it." He smirked evily, patting Stiles on the shoulder before slinking away upstairs. Stupid Derek and his evil, sexy, arsehole ways.
"But, but Dereeeek!" He whined, chasing him up the stairs, skipping every second step. "I already named him!" He huffed, folding his arms over his chest as they reached the bedroom.
"Good for you. Now he can be free and wild with a name." Derek muttered, pulling off his sweat soaked shirt and trading it for a cleaner one.
"No. I named him Egg and he's my best friend and he's staying with us forever and if you hurt him I will kick your werewolf arse!" He grumbled, pulling out the complete tantrum and stamping his foot. Who said a 17 year old boy couldn't tantrum like a 7 year old? Clearly someone who hasn't met Stiles.
Derek stared at him skeptically, as though he couldn't actually believe a thing Stiles was saying. "You named it Egg?" He asked, sounding completely befuddled.
"Yes. Egg. He eats eggs and he's white and small like an egg. Therefore Egg." He frowned, not moving from the doorway.
"He still has to go; Name or no name. And we both know you can't kick my arse." He said with that extra tinge of cockiness as he jabbed Stiles' stomach playfully. Stiles pouted.
"Fine. I withdraw sex. No more sexy time for you. You can werewank your way through the night." Stiles tone was matter-of-fact and Derek groaned, furrowing his eyebrows, staring Stiles down with that intense glare of his.
"Fine. You can keep it.." He began, moving close to Stiles, pressing his body against the other before murmuring in his ear, "but you owe me later." He almost emitted a growl before he sauntered away, probably deciding on a shower.
Stiles mentally high fived himself, aw ye, who da man.
