Chapter Text
Stiles had to admit that the bed felt like soft, pillowy heaven after the day he’d had, especially with how huge and endless the squishy pillow and smooth sheets seemed to him now, so he promptly knocked out to easily the best sleep he’d ever had in his life. He’d always had trouble sleeping, nightmares or no, and it’d only gotten worse after his mom died—he considered it great sleep if he only woke up three times a night.
But he didn’t wake up once that night. Maybe it was because he was a hamster, because he’d never felt so warm and relaxed in his life to the point that he even drooled a little, and when he did wake up, it was only due to an rude finger poking his head.
He didn’t open his eyes and smacked his lips. “Mm, what?” he mumbled, annoyed. “Shut up. This is the best sleep I’ve ever had.”
The rude finger stopped poking him—it seemed it wasn’t all that rude after all.
So he dozed on and on until he stretched his limbs out with a content yawn and buried his face into the plush, forest-scented pillow before opening his eyes.
To tanned brown fabric instead of the dark grey sheets he’d been sleeping on.
No, wait, it wasn’t fabric, it was skin—
Stiles yelped and Derek stirred with a start.
“What now?” muttered Derek with a groan as he glanced down at Stiles lying facedown in the center of his plush pillow of a chest.
“What do you— You knew I was sleeping here?!”
Derek laid his head back down and closed his eyes again. “You’re the one who told me to shut up because you’re having the best sleep of your life.”
“So what?! Just toss me at the other side of the bed!” squeaked Stiles.
Derek pulled the comforter up more over his chest, now half covering Stiles as well. “Just shut up and go back to sleep. You can keep kneading my chest or whatever.”
“...What.”
Needless to say, Stiles did not go back to sleep, and neither did Derek, because Stiles pestered him to explain exactly what he meant to find out that he’d not only been sleeping oh-so-comfortably on Derek’s chest the whole night but had also been kneading his chest with his tiny paws in his sleep.
“You were doing some vibrating, snuffling thing too,” said Derek as if Stiles didn’t already want to melt into the bed from sheer embarrassment.
“Great,” said Stiles. “That’s fantastic. I vibrate when I sleep. I seriously doubt hamsters normally vibrate when they sleep.”
Derek rubbed his eyes with a yawn as he checked the time on his phone. “They can vibrate when they’re happy. They don’t knead their paws though. That’s a cat thing. And apparently a you thing.”
“How the fuck do you know that? Did you have a pet hamster or something?”
“No, I googled it to make sure you weren’t choking in your sleep from pigging out.”
Stiles squinted at him. “I can’t tell if I should be touched or offended.”
“Offended, probably.”
“I’ll go for somewhere in the middle.” He sat up on Derek’s chest with a yawn. “What do you eat for breakfast?”
“You know hamsters only eat once a day, right? And they’re supposed to be nocturnal.”
“Yeah? Well I’m going to eat five times a day, so just answer my damn question!”
“I don’t eat breakfast.”
“Okay, fine, what about lunch?”
“I don’t eat lunch.”
Stiles made a frustrated noise. “What the hell do you eat then? You’re being difficult on purpose, aren’t you?”
“I’m tired, it’s early, and you’re talking my ear off,” muttered Derek—Stiles would’ve never in a million years pegged him as someone who hated mornings until now. “I just get takeout whenever I’m hungry and have time.”
“Every day?”
Derek made a grunt of agreement.
“Just because you’re a werewolf doesn’t mean you can just eat whatever,” Stiles told him.
“It does, actually.”
Stiles slid off Derek with a huff, then accidentally slipped in a heart-stopping fall off the bed only to land perfectly fine on the floor—he still hadn’t gotten used to actually having reflexes for once.
Derek peered over the edge of the bed at him. “Did you just fall off?”
“No,” said Stiles.
“You know I can still hear you lying even though you’re a hamster, right?”
“How does that even make sense?”
“How does anything about you make sense?” muttered Derek. “Even before you somehow turned yourself into a hamster through a cleaning spell.”
“You know what, how about you just stop talking until I make some coffee or something?”
Derek’s eyes shot wide open at that. “You are not drinking coffee.”
“For you, dumbass,” said Stiles with a sniff as he began his trek to the kitchen. “I dunno how Isaac puts up with you when you’re so grumpy in the mornings.”
“That’s why he makes himself scarce in the mornings,” mumbled Derek, and then he groaned as he sat up and stretched. “Don’t you touch anything until I get over there. I don’t want to have to fish you out of the dishwasher.”
“Oh my god, will you just shut up already?”
“I wouldn’t have to talk if you didn’t run around like a disaster waiting to happen.”
“I’m just going to brew coffee and find something to eat!”
“As a hamster.” Derek paused, and added, “Also—”
“I’m not listening, I’m not listening,” retorted Stiles as he made his way through the living room.
He heard the sound of water running and caught the minty scent of toothpaste while he decided to make a stop at the windowsill for the oven mitt—he figured he might need it for the coffee or whatever he could find to eat. Maybe. He hadn’t actually figured out how he was going to brew coffee yet, to be honest. If push came to shove, maybe he’d just try to slap Derek into a better mood. Or cook an actual breakfast.
Derek had to at least have eggs, right?
...Right?
Amidst Stiles’ thoughts about how exactly to brew coffee, he didn’t notice the front door opening or the footsteps approaching as he scampered his way across the living room until he jumped in shock from Derek’s shout of “Hey, Stiles!” to see a boot about to crush him flat—
Isaac somehow ended up on his ass with Derek holding a trembling Stiles in his hand.
“What the— Is that a mouse?”
“I’m a hamster!” snapped Stiles.
Not that Isaac understood a word.
“He’s a hamster,” Derek relayed for him with a deep sigh. He then set him down on the table without another word and went back to his bedroom, leaving Isaac just sitting there on the floor staring at Stiles.
“Uh.” Isaac scratched his head. “So, uh. Since when did you have a pet hamster?”
Silence.
“Okay,” said Isaac. “Great. Nice talk.”
Derek came out with a shirt on this time instead of his bare-chested self, a simple v-neck with a breast pocket. “Yesterday.”
Isaac squinted and pursed his lips. “We lamented over lack of new clues about Erica and Boyd’s whereabouts, and then you went out and bought...a hamster?”
“...Something like that.” Derek looked like he was pulling his teeth out—Stiles tried hard to stifle his laughter.
Isaac paused and did a double-take. “Wait, you just called him Stiles! You bought a hamster and named it Stiles?”
“No,” said Derek.
“Don’t lie, I heard you!”
“I’m going to rip out your throat,” Derek told him.
“Dude, are you okay?” asked Isaac with what looked like genuine concern, and Stiles couldn’t help it—he burst out laughing.
If looks could kill, Derek’s glare would’ve pierced him dead.
“I’m sorry, but you can’t tell me this isn’t hilarious,” said Stiles between snickers. “He thinks you’re crazy. Plus he can’t understand me, see? I told you people can’t understand what I’m saying.”
Derek let out another tired sigh. “Just shut up and stop running around,” he muttered as he picked Stiles up and plopped him in his breast pocket, much to Stiles’ surprise. “Jesus Christ, you’re giving me a headache.”
“Werewolves can get headaches?”
“I’m going to buy a hamster cage if you don’t shut up.”
“I’m not getting in that shit,” retorted Stiles with a frown. “Oh, but I want clothes. And a toilet.”
Derek rubbed his face and pulled at his eyes. “I need coffee.”
“I think you need a hell of a lot more than coffee,” interrupted Isaac. “Have you been talking to your hamster?”
“He talks back,” said Derek, the last fuck he gave clearly flying out the window. “You’re just too stupid to understand him.”
Stiles grimaced. “Wow. How about we just go make coffee and you eat an actual breakfast before you make everyone think you’re off your rocker?”
“Uh.” Isaac stared at Derek for a moment, unsure what to say. “I’ll be back. Just stay here, okay? Don’t go anywhere.”
And then he practically ran out the door.
“Too late,” muttered Stiles.
“I really couldn’t care less right now.”
“Do you have eggs?”
“Yeah.”
“Bacon?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, how about you make coffee and I cook us some breakfast?”
Derek plucked him out of his pocket and set him on the kitchen counter with a tired, tired wince. “Sounds like a horrible idea,” he said, but he got out the eggs, cookware, and other ingredients anyway while waiting for the coffee to brew.
And then he watched Stiles scamper around frying fucked up looking sunny side up eggs that turned into scrambled eggs and bacon like he was stirring a huge pot.
Derek did not comment on his struggles nor his almost burned scrambled eggs that tasted rubbery, instead just eating in silence beside Stiles at the counter with his cup of coffee and simple “Thanks.”
Only after they’d both finished eating and Derek had a chance to sip his coffee did he finally speak up.
“So what do you want?”
Stiles lay sprawled on his back on the nice and cool countertop, little furry belly up. “Clothes. And a toilet. For now.”
“...You have fur.”
“Yeah, but I feel naked.”
Derek glanced at him. “Doesn’t seem to bother you,” he muttered on another sip of coffee.
“Hey, I’m really full right now,” retorted Stiles.
“Uh-huh.”
“So I want doll clothes and a doll toilet. Should be able to at least find a top that fits me, I think. Definitely not pants, though.”
Derek rubbed his face. “...You realize that doll toilets don’t actually flush, right?”
“Well duh, but I want to sit on an actual toilet.”
“What’s the fucking difference if it doesn’t even flush?”
“The difference is that I’m pooping into something instead of just pooping wherever! What if it falls down my leg or something? That’s nasty. And I’m going to use toilet paper too. I’ll just put a little plastic bag under the toilet.”
“No.”
“What do you mean, ‘no’? I’ll clean up after myself—it’s not like you have to clean up my poop.”
Derek waved a hand as he sipped his coffee. “No. If we’re doing this, I’ll just order a functional miniature toilet online. I’ll just...tape a funnel or something to the toilet seat for now and you can use that.”
“Oh.” Stiles blinked. “That works. Why didn’t I think of that? We don’t need the mini toilet then.”
“I’m getting it for my own sanity,” muttered Derek. “If you manage to get yourself flushed down the toilet, I can’t help you.”
“Just how clumsy do you think I am? I’ll have you know my reflexes are great now that I’m a hamster,” huffed Stiles.
“...That’s not something to be proud of.”
“Oh, and while we’re at it, I want a toy car that moves,” said Stiles, coming up with the brilliant idea on the spot. “Y’know, remote controlled or whatever. So I don’t have to run everywhere. Plus people won’t step on me then--I’ll be the one trampling on their feet. And I figure it’ll be useful trying to look for Erica and Boyd.”
Derek stared down at his coffee like it would solve his problems. “You are not riding that thing outside, and you are definitely not going to drive around who knows where looking for Erica and Boyd in that thing.”
“I’m not a complete idiot—I’ll just ride in your comfy pocket outside. And I meant for when we find out more clues about where Erica and Boyd are. Y’know, like surveillance.”
“I can’t be sure, but I think they might notice a hamster driving a toy car,” said Derek, voice dripping with sarcasm.
“Yeah, the car can be my getaway vehicle.”
“My Camaro will be your getaway vehicle,” Derek told him.
Stiles gave him a look, not that Derek could even see his facial expressions properly now that he thought about it. He probably just saw a hamster with a fat belly sprawled on the counter. “That’s a little obvious, don’t you think? You said it’s a pack of alphas; you can’t be driving your Camaro anywhere near. It’d be safest for all of us if I scope the place out with a weapon.”
“...A weapon.”
“I’m thinking a mini fork or something,” mused Stiles aloud.
“You’re going to wield a mini fork in the headquarters of a—” Derek cut off and decided to take a huge gulp of coffee instead.
“It sounds dumb, but I’ll steal some drugs from Deaton or the Argents and douse my fork in it,” Stiles assured him.
Derek pressed his lips together and rubbed his face again, then let out a deep sigh after a long moment of silence.
“This is going to be a disaster,” he said.
Stiles grinned. “I’m kind of excited,” he admitted.
And Derek just nodded in grave acceptance, the grumpy ass. “Great. Now we’re definitely going to die.”