Author's Note: The idea of the name Vojtech used as Stiles name is this story was inspired by the author milkyway's stories. They are marvelous, and you should check them out at ao3!

"Vojtech Stilinski! What are you doing out in this weather?! You'll catch your death!"

Stiles looked over to the grocery store's parking lot. Across from him was a little old lady in a loud fuchsia raincoat, holding a bag of cat food under one arm, and clutching a bag of cabbages in the other.

He waved awkwardly, putting on his best fake-and-not- freezing- to-death smile on.

"Hey Mrs. Sztuczka! Lovely winter wonderland we've got going on, right?"

The old woman proceeded to take Stiles by the hand to fuss over him, clucking her tongue at him like an exasperated chicken.

"Oh Vojtech, this will not do! You are soaked to the bone! Poor dear."

Stiles explained what happened to his Jeep down the street, leaving out that he forgot his phone, and why. He would spare her those details.

For as long as Stiles could remember, Ollie Sztuczka, the tiny Polish immigrant cat lady, had lived in the red Victorian house down the street edging the woods, all by herself, (unless you counted her many cats). Never having met either of his actual grandmothers, she and Scott's abuela were the closest things he had ever had to one. Mrs. Sztuczka, who not only knew his name, but could pronounce it perfectly, had been his parents and Mrs. McCall's go-to babysitter when they were kids.

Standing in the rain and looking down at her cabbages, Stiles felt a pang in his heart, realizing that he might have forgotten her this holiday season.

"Here Mrs.S, let me put your groceries in the trunk."

"Oh you can do more than that, young man! Get the newspaper from the back and cover the seat. You are coming home with me to get dry and warm up!"

Stiles hesitated as he stuffed the large bag of cat food in here trunk.

"I have meatloaf and pirogues…"

His head shot up, nearly missing the trunk lid.

"The cheesy potato kind?!"

She smiled her weathered smile, a sparkle in her lined eyes.

"But of course dear!"

Get out of the cold, and the promise of meat and ooey gooey potatoey goodness?

Stiles stomach grumbled.

"I'm sold!"

Twenty minutes later Stiles dried off with a towel, staring at the rainbow unicorn wallpaper in the bathroom. He smiled fondly, remembering when Mrs. Sztuczka let him and Scott help pick it out when she was having her bathroom remodeled. His Dad had tried to assure her that she didn't need to go through with it, but she insisted that the boys had good taste. They sure thought it was classy, and suited the woman.

A knock came at the unicorn and Transformers stickered door.

"Open up and put these on dear. I'll throw your clothes into the dryer."

After some struggle, hopping, and almost taking out the glittery towel rack, Stiles put on the offered clothes and looked back in the mirror.

The teen blew out a sigh. "Oh boy, don't I look pretty?"

He squared his shoulders, and gave himself his best Derek-Hale eyebrow lift.

If his drag queen friends could wear women's clothes, then so could he!

Well okay, so maybe their clothes were more fashionable… and fitting, and he was wearing a purple and red old lady sweat suite with embroidered cats on it. It sort of fit, and it was dry. He could not complain.

Amusing himself with the thought of Lydia's disgusted face in seeing the clothes, let alone on him in them, Stiles walked into the familiar living room of his childhood babysitting adventures.

In a strange way, the house always reminded him of Umbridge's office from Harry Potter, except less pink. Ollie Sztuczka detested pink. Other than that one factor, Mrs. S' house was full of doilies, cats, and decorative plates with cats on them against dated floral purple, turquoise, and cream colored wallpaper.

It was to be expected though, she was an old lady, and from what tv and media had taught him over the years, that was very cliché "old lady" style.

Walking down the hall, Stiles peeked into the office room of the house, which actually housed most of the cat castles. The only thing really "officey" about it were the walls lined with bookshelves.

Peering in closer, avoiding the three cats running in and out by his feet, Stiles looked at the bookshelf in the corner.

Just a little to the left…ah! There they are! Stiles thought with a smile.

Mrs. S used to sit with Stiles in her big armchair in the office, and would read to him stories from one of the most beautifully illustrated books he had ever seen. The entire book, which was part of a collection, was completely in Polish. She would read to him a passage in her native tongue, and then translate it for him. Stiles would eat up the stories with fascination, gently touching the yellowing pages in awe.

However, his faithful babysitter would skip over pages and stories, saying, "Oh no, sweetheart, these are much too serious and scary for a young boy!" When storytime was over, or when Stiles whined too much about wanting to hear about the other stories she didn't want to read, she would put the book back on the top shelf, along with it's brothers and sisters.

This minor setback would not stop him. Oh no, Stiles was a determined and clever little boy. He just HAD to know what else was in those books! The stories were about folklore, myths, fairytales, and tales so twisted that they made Grimm's fairytales look like Disney in comparison! If Stiles were one of Mrs. Sztuczka's cats, that would be his catnip. Yes, they were totally Stilesnip!

On the days when his mom or dad would tell him that he was going to spend some times at Mrs. S's house, Stiles would sneak his Captain America notebook and pencil with him. Due to the fact that his mom was born in Poland, and his dad's family was also Polish, they had a Polish to English dictionary at home, which he planned to use. Using his keen planning skills, Stiles would time it just right, to when she went outside to garden and left him to watch PBS, or when she fell asleep in the middle of watching one of her soap operas, he would crawl across the floor like one of her cats, sneak into the office, climb a cat castle, get the book, and take it back into the living room. He would then proceed to write down as many of the precious words his little fingers could manage.

Timing it just right, he would put the book back in the bookcase, hide the notebook, and sit in front of the tv until she woke up, or walked back in to wash her hands from dirt.

Later, he would take out his other notebook, his Dalek one, with the dictionary and proceed to translate the text. It was a tedious, long going process, but it paid off.

Not only did Stiles get to read the stories, he found that he sort of accidently learned Polish. Go figure!

Stiles was brought out of his thoughts when he felt something tiny pounce on his foot.

Looking down, he saw what looked like an itty bitty ball of black and white fluff. When the ball moved around and settles on his foot, Stiles realized it was a pint sized kitten.

He lifted his foot slightly.

"Hey there small fry! Do you like the smell of my feet?"

The kitten looked up at him with startling green eyes, and quietly squeaked back at him.

"mew."

Stiles felt his heart melt as he sat on the floor and cooed at the kitten.

"Oh aren't you a beauty!"

He fell even more in love when the kitten instantly curled in his lap and purred up a storm.

After petting the precious kitten, Stiles noticed some strange bald patches on it's little body.

Mrs. Sztuczka walked in and placed a plate on the coffee table. She looked over and smiled at the two on the floor.

"Oh, it seems you've met my latest guest!"

Picking up and rubbing his face in the soft fur, Stiles grin at the woman, then gave a slightly confused head tilt.

"Guest? He isn't yours then?"

Sitting in her favorite armchair, she sipped her tea.

"Oh no dear, I have not had a new cat in years, and since I've had all of mine spayed and neutered, I have not had a kitten in years! I found this poor little lady in the alley about a week ago."

The kitten bat playfully at Stiles dancing fingers, making him laugh in delight. Noting the patches, Stiles found himself concerned with his new friend.

"What's with the bald spots on her fur?"

The old women tsked and shook her head.

"I took her to see Dr. Deaton when I took to his checkup. He suspected abuse. Possible burns."

Stiles felt his jaw drop and heart clench.

"Aww, no. That is terrible! Will she be okay?"

"He said that she seemed fine, but wanted me to continue fostering her. As much as I love cats, I can't possibly take in another permanently. said that he would have taken her into the clinic, but she just would not get along with…well, anyone. I have been lucky to even let her get near me."

Stiles paused, and looked down at the positively cuddliest kitten that was nuzzling his stomach.

He pointed down.

"This kitten?"

"The very same! I'm actually surprised that she has taken to you so fast Vojtech. Dr, Deaton said that she did seem to like Scooter, but Melissa, bless her, does not want pets."

He contained the laugh at Scott's nickname as he let that bit of information set in. That was news. A cat that liked werewolves? He knew that Deaton handled the cats now, and let Scott handle the dogs and pets like rabbits and birds because cats seemed to have an aversion to werewolves. Yet, this one liked Scott? That was noteworthy!

He was going to have to have a little talk with 'Scooter' about his scientific breakthrough he didn't bother to tell his best buddy about.

Mrs. Sztuczka kept talking, unaware of the thoughts going on in the teen's head. "If the Sheriff was not allergic, I would suggest you taking her home. She seems to really like you. Now, get up from that floor and go eat! You are skin and bones child!"

Picking the kitten up in the palm of his hand, Stiles sat at the couch, and practically inhaled the meatloaf and pirogues. The kitten looked up at his with sad green eyes.

"mew."

Before Stiles could even think to give the kitten table food, the little old lady smacked his hand.

"No no! Don't spoil her! She will get her food in a few minutes. If you will excuse me, I need to fill the cat bowls."

A minute later, he heard her exclaim from the kitchen.

"Oh! I almost forgot! I promised Gladys that I would make some more paste! Oh Vojtech, dear, my hands are full. Would you be so kind as to start the paste for me?"

Ah yes, Mrs.S's famous medicinal all-purpose cure-all paste. Mnich Odwrót, accroding to Ollie, was a recipe that had been passed down from generation to generation. When it was just the two of them and Scott was not there, she would have Stiles in the kitchen, teaching him to chop, mince, stir and to make all of her family's secret recipes. His mom told him should always feel privledged, because she didn't have any children or grandkids of her own, yet she was sharing so much of herself and teaching him about his heritage at the same time.

That particular paste she made and would always push in on her neighbors, she insisted that it was a real life saver, and could do many things like treat scrapes and even cure sun burn.

Yeah, Stiles tried it once after he forgot to put sunscreen on after a field trip. Nope, nada, did not do a thing for him, except make him smell like pickled cabbage and rosemary. Oh, fun fact. The entire paste was made out of boiled cabbages, onions, a sprig or two of rosemary, and apple cider vinegar. It did make her happy, so he and his dad humored her and always took a jar or two. They had a stack of the jars in the pantry.

Stiles placed the kitten on the couch, and snuck her a tiny piece of the meatloaf.

"Shh, just between you and me!"

The kitten looked back at him, happily munching on her contraband food, obviously telepathically telling him that he was her new favorite.

He walked into the kitchen, stopping at the sink to wash his hands.

"Yeah, sure thing Mrs. S! Sauce pans still under the sink?"

She nodded from the mud room, pouring the dry food into the many bowls.

"Do you still remember how to make it, young man?"

Stiles grinned at her, spinning the pan in his hands before placing it on the stove.

"Yep! I've made it so many times with you, I don't think it's possible to forget!"

She walked in, carrying the half empty bag of catfood.

"Oh sweetheart, don't forget to use the rainwater from the barrel outside! It does not work as well with tap water."

Stiles nodded as he grabbed the empty plastic milk jug she always used for that very reason.

"Right on it!"

Stiles walked out of the mud room to the big wooded barrel on the back porch.

Mr. Sztuczka in his heyday was a bit of an inventor, and rigged up the rainwater catching system. All of the rainwater was siphoned from the roof, and put into a barrel with a tap on the side of the house. Stiles always thought it was pretty cool.

Thankful that the rain had let up finally, Stiles filled the jug, intent on helping make the stinky concoction.

As much as he knew he needed to leave and get Derek the best present ever, he had this gut feeling that he should stick around for a while.

An hour later, the old Victorian house smelled of cabbage, onion, rosemary, and the ever present smell of cats. For all of his hard work, and for the fact that he nicked himself while chopping the onions, Mrs. Sztuczka rewarded Stiles with a plate of sugar cookies she had made earlier that day.

She instructed the young man to sit on the couch, wrap up in a blanket, and relax with the kitten.

He did not need to be told twice.

"Here dear," She said as she handed him a mug, "try this tea. It's one of my favorites. Be mindful, it's a little hot. Take small sips."

He was wrapped in a blanket on the couch, fluff ball in his lap, feeling warm and sleepy. The tea was wonderful, and it seemed to go down like sweet tasting sunlight, warming and lighting up his body from the inside, leaving him feeling safe and warm and downright cuddly. He felt his eyelid start to feel heavy. The tea was tasty, but unlike any he had ever tasted. The best way he could describe it was like a liquid fortune cookie in a cup.

A little nap wouldn't hurt him…

The mug fell to the floor from his limp fingers.

Ollie walked over and picked the cup from the floor, smiling fondly at the boy on her couch.

"Oh I do hope you're dreams are sweet, young one. You deserve so much happiness. Let's hope what lies ahead is everything you hoped for."