Word: Vane

...

Stiles blinked at the cookie cutter house in surprise. When he'd been invited to Deaton's house to train as an emissary, he'd kind of expected ... well, something a bit darker than this, honestly. He knew that Deaton wasn't a witch, but Druid's were meant to be all mystical and shit, weren't they? Shouldn't that mystery extend to their house as well? There wasn't a tree in sight, and the front garden was made up with pebbles, white rocks piled on top of white rocks. He supposed it looked a lot like a typical Japanese meditation garden, though Stiles doubted Deaton sat out in his front yard meditating every morning.

"If you're done staring, can we go inside and get started?" Derek asked with a reluctant sigh beside him.

"I've still got fifteen more seconds of staring before I'm over this," Stiles replied, just to piss him off a bit.

"It's a house, Stiles. What's there to get over?"

"He's a Druid with a Japanese rock garden. I wasn't expecting the house to be so normal, either. I was expecting... oh, I don't know, a gingerbread house with a little woodcutter weather vane on the letterbox?"

"Like you said, Deaton's a Druid; he's not a witch, so why would he have a gingerbread house, Stiles?" Derek asked with a sigh.

"You lack imagination, you know that?"

"So you've told me. Your fifteen seconds are up," Derek added, shoving Stiles towards the fence.

"I can't believe you counted that," he muttered, walking up the path to the front door.

"You're going to do this all day, aren't you?"

"Do what?" Stiles asked, frowning as he rang the doorbell loudly and obnoxiously.

Derek just looked at the doorbell pointedly and didn't reply. Stiles smirked, wondering if he'd even recognised the tune as Little Red Riding Hood (the original version by Sam the Sham and the Pharaohs, obviously; just because Stiles was causing shit didn't mean he couldn't observe the classics).

"Good morning, Stiles, Derek. If you could stop playing the doorbell and scaring Muffin, I'd appreciate it," Deaton added.

Stiles immediately let go of the doorbell and gave him a somewhat remorseful look. "Who's Muffin?"

"My dog," he replied, leading them through his house to the kitchen. "Muffin, say hello to Stiles and Derek."

He wasn't even using a cutesy voice like most people did with animals, but Stiles figured being a vet cured him of that pretty fast.

Hello, Stiles and Derek.

Okay. Deaton had a dog that could talk into his brain. Not freaking out. Not freaking out. Totally freaking out.

"What the fuck was that?!" Stiles yelled, leaping back a foot to get away from the mind-talking monster.

The dog yapped and looked cute in response.

Deaton just frowned and looked between his dog and Stiles. "That's Muffin, my dog. Is everything all right, Stiles?"

"You mean you didn't hear that?" Stiles asked, looking at Deaton, then to Derek.

"Hear what, Stiles?" Derek asked, looking at him worriedly.

"Muffin. He - "

"She," Deaton corrected.

"She talked! She said hello, Stiles and Derek. In my head!" Stiles said.

"Muffin doesn't have telepathic abilities, Stiles," Deaton said slowly, frowning.

"Yeah, that you know of. C'mon, Muffin, prove them wrong."

Muffin just sat down and smiled happily, her tongue lolling out of her mouth.

Stiles heard Derek's laughter first, and he glared at him. Then Deaton started chuckling as well, and Stiles went red realising that they'd tricked him.

"Oh, fuck both of you with a cactus! How did you do that?" Stiles asked, his curiosity swiftly taking over his embarrassment.

"Listen and learn; you might just find out one day," Deaton said, still chuckling.

"Now, are you going to take this seriously, Stiles?" Derek asked, arms crossed over his chest.

"Yes. Promise," Stiles added quickly.

Deaton led them out to the back yard (which had trees and a garden with herbs and plants - that's what Stiles had expected!), Muffin following docilely.

Don't be a bonehead about this, Stiles, Muffin said, lying on the deck and resting her head on her paws to watch them.

"I won't," he murmured.

"You won't what?" Deaton asked, frowning.

"I thought you said you'd take this seriously?" Derek added.

Stiles stared at Deaton and Derek incredulously, unable to believe that they were doing this to him again. Then he realised that they were actually serious this time and weren't fucking with him, and Stiles looked over at Muffin who was licking her paws innocently.

"Nope! I am so not dealing with a telepathic dog today," he stated firmly.

Stiles promptly turned his back on the dog, and refused to acknowledge any questions from Deaton and Derek.

...

Over the course of the next six months, they discovered that Stiles had an affinity for telepathy with canines, including (but not limited to) the wolf pack. It helped him out of a few scrapes (and kidnappings) here and there, especially when he learned how to return thoughts to the wolves and dog (Muffin jumped all over him eagerly when he was successful with his attempt, her happy and proud thoughts almost bombarding him).

Two years later, Muffin announced her pregnancy, and Stiles was allowed first pick from the litter. He named his pup McMuffin and was pleased to hear Mac's first thought less than a week later. Derek had second pick from the litter and if it wasn't for Stiles, she would have been named Dog or something equally lame. Nugget was one of the most well-behaved dogs in the park (possibly the world), not surprising Stiles in the slightest, and she had a way of calming Mac in a way that not even Stiles could manage some days.

When they visited Deaton, Stiles told his mentor that the pups hated his new lounge, and just laughed uproariously when they proved him right by peeing on the upholstery.

...

End of word challenge.

Thanks for reading!