#kitty!stiles

In a cot, two children hybrids are playing together, one part-cat and the other part-dog, and Derek takes a moment to look at them.

They're adorable.

The puppy has soft looking ears, dark as his hair, and he's rubbing his nose into the kitty's neck.

And the kitty is looking back at Derek, his head cocked to the side and reddish brown hair standing at attention.

Derek comes closer and he can see that the two hybrids are now entwining their tails. How long have they been together ?

If anything, the cat-child moves them in the cot to stand in front of the dog-child.

"Hello there," Derek says softly and the cat's eyes turn softer - Derek can tell that he's still on his guard.

He can't say that much for the other child, who is peeking over his friend's shoulder with a big, open smile.

"Hello!" he replies, his tail wagging behind him to the cat's annoyance. "I'm Scott and this is Sche-Sci-" he starts but scrunches his nose and the cat huffs, his hair bristling around his ears.

"Just call me Stiles," he tells Derek and the young man can't help but like the cat's haughty attitude.

Turning to the sales woman hovering next to him, he nods at Stiles. "I'll adopt him."

Stiles' big brown eyes immediately widen and his little hand reaches for Scott's.

"Never mind, I'll adopt them".

---

Scott is pretty easy to read and to take care of : he needs food, he needs to be petted regularly, he responds better to rewards than punishment, and he is brighter than Derek thought at first.

Stiles ...

Stiles is more challenging, and Derek loves it.

It feels like Stiles' smiles are somehow more valuable since they're more rare.

But Derek has yet to get the hybrid to purr to him.

It's a challenge that he tries to win over, but Stiles is proud, very much so, and he has managed to flee every time Derek thought he had managed to please him enough.

(He's vaguely aware that this is not very healthy as an owner, but screw it)

He didn't expect to find himself with a lap full of shivering gangly teenager-cat one stormy night.

One minute he was reading a book - trying to avoid catching the lightning - and the next his book is on the floor with a thud and Stiles has his head on Derek's shoulder.

Derek immediately puts his hands around the teenager, one hand on the small of his back and the other cupping his neck, his thumb rubbing soothing circles.

"Hey," he says softly, looking at his feet where Scott is lying down in a tight ball, looking up at him. "It's alright, guys, just a little rain ..."

Stiles whines his arms coming up to wrap around Derek's neck, his tail around Derek's knee as he sits on his lap.

Derek doesn't add anything and starts rubbing circles on Stiles' back, the hand he has on the young man's (God now he is a young man) neck holding him close.

Stiles nuzzles his shoulder, progressively relaxing into the embrace - Derek can feel his head getting heavier next to his ear - when it starts.

Gently, comfortingly, Stiles starts purring next to him, the vibration of it echoing in Derek's ribcage and ear.

Derek stops moving for a moment, and the purrs stop too, followed by a little whine - impatient or just demanding, he can't really tell, but he quickly resumes his ... well, his petting there is no other way to say it.

Stiles rests his head on his shoulder completely, his fingers tightening and relaxing in spasm on Derek's back, but it's not uncomfortable : more than anything, Derek feels like this is a big step for them and he smiles, tilting his head to rub his cheek on the top of Stiles' head.

"Well, he's not here, so I suggest you take yourself and your worries elsewhere," Derek replies, trying to look as unconcerned as possible.

Because he is definitely getting worried : if the young human was indeed looking for him, he must have had a reason, and if he never arrived at Derek's house ...

Something has happened.

Scott huffs and starts leaving, throwing a disappointed look at Derek. "I thought you came back because you needed us, him, as your anchor," he simply says, closing the door behind him.

Derek's spoon falls into his bowl as he clutches his face in his hands.

Fuck.

----

"Stiles ?"

Derek pushes the window open, whispering the boy's name, hoping that maybe he'll answer and this nonsense will stop.

"Miksa !" he whisper-shouts now, using the name that the Sheriff let drop one night this summer when Stiles was sick and Derek was absolutely not lurking in the shadows behind the house.

"Meow ?"

Now that is not expected.

From under Stiles' bed, a second mewing is heard and Derek crouches on the floor to look at it. as the sound could let him guess, a kitten is lying under the bed, tangled in Stiles' infamous red hoodie. There are marks on its fur, reminding Derek of the pattern of moles on Stiles' cheek and neck and back and -

Okay, stopping that train of thoughts immediately.

"Stiles ?" he asks, just to confirm, holding his hand up for the cat to sniff it. He feels slightly ridiculous, sure, but necessity commands.

The kitten walks slowly toward his hand, sniffs his fingers and immediately curls into a ball in his palm, a low purr making his small frame vibrate.

Derek pulls his hand back against his chest, sitting with his back against the bedframe. He's basically cradling the cat against him, and ... Stiles ? apparently, rubs his little head against him in contentment.

"What the fuck ..." Derek whispers, letting the cat rub his scent on him.

---

"That's Stiles."

It's not even a question : Lydia is merely stating a fact, her fingers playing with the soft fur of Kitten Stiles' belly, to his absolute delight.

Derek nods, trying to refrain from pushing the Banshee away from Stiles.

"How ?"

Now, Scott's reaction is more "normal" : he's freaking out and pulling at his hair - it makes him look like a crazed Wolverine, it should be hilarious.

"Witches ?" Allison offers, pulling a feather from her pocket to play with Stiles who jumps at it and makes "feral" movements to get it.

From the phone sitting on the table, Deaton's voice can be heard, humming at the suggestion. "I'll look into that - for now, just ... take care of Stiles, okay ?"

"You're the vet, shouldn't you be taking care of him ?" Derek snarls and Deaton huffs a laugh.

"You'll be fine, Alpha," he simply says, like it solves everything.

Obviously, they all agree with Deaton's affirmation of Derek's competences and leave in a hurry.

Stiles rolls back to stand on his feet, cocking his head to the side in a familiar gesture as he mews curiously.

"Yeah, me neither," Derek says as he picks him up again - there is something comforting in the fact that he can hold Stiles against him.

And there is something slightly alarming in the comfort he pulls from it.

---

The next morning, Derek wakes up to a pitiful mewl in his ear. He sighs as he rubs his eyes open : he had hoped that Stiles would change back to his true self during the night, but no such luck.

The kitten is still here, on the couch's back near his ear, and he's shivering.

His house is a little bit on the cold side, but there is nothing he can do about it, no is it ?

"I'm not going to dress you up," he tells Stiles and the cat hisses at him.

And then Derek has an idea. "Lydia ? Do you still have Prada's clothes ?"

--

At first Stiles doesn't seem too happy about the "hoodie" they have found.

He looks downright miserable, sitting with his front paws on his hinder legs and his head bowed.

But then Derek starts petting his belly and under his neck and everything is right in the world again, the cat lying on the couch in Derek's spot with wide eyes and a completely relaxed posture.

Derek sighs. Please come back to your usual snarky self, he pleads the cat in his head.

--

Aiden is the one who finds the witch who cast a spell on Stiles - she is in one of their shared Economy class, and it looks like she was jealous of him for being suddenly close to Lydia. As Lydia points it out with a cruel chuckle, turning him into a cat wouldn't drive her away, far from it.

She accepts to turn him back, but warns them that it could take affect any time after she casts the counter spell and Derek feels like a migraine is creeping up on him.

"What's one more night," he simply replies to the members of the pack who wonder why he volunteers to keep Stiles with him.

He's not about to explain that he goes to sleep more easily with the kitten's soft breathing as his lullaby and little paws on his chest.

The next morning, he does wake up to long fingers clutching his t-shirt and a messy head of hair tickling his nose.