Work Text:
You can't blame Stiles, not really. Who could possibly resist a fluffy puppy whining outside their front door at three AM? Nobody, that's who.
So when Scott flashed his alpha eyes at said fluffy puppy, Stiles smacked him on the back of the head.
“What the hell, man?” Stiles asked, shoving Scott away from the now cowering puppy. He pulled a stuffed toy dragon out of the pet store bag and knelt down in front of the puppy, shaking the toy from side to side. The puppy cocked its head as it followed the movements of the toy with wide golden eyes. “She's just a puppy dog, Scott. Aren't you, pretty girl?”
“Stiles, that's not a puppy,” Scott said, his voice oddly muffled. “She's a werewolf.”
Stiles fell back on his ass as he spun around to face Scott, now wolfed out. “You're shitting me.” He turned back to the puppy, who appeared to be looking back and forth between Stiles and Scott, as if she was tracking their conversation.
“Alright,” Stiles began, getting to his feet while keeping his eyes on the puppy/possible baby werewolf. “So let's say you're right. She's probably a baby, maybe a toddler? Why are you getting so mad?”
Scott shook his head. “I'm not mad.”
Stiles crooked his fingers in a terrible mimicry of fangs.
“Oh,” Scott said, and his fangs retracted, along with the crazy facial hair. “Sorry, it's just... you're pack, and she's not...” Scott trailed off, a blush rising on his cheeks.
“Aw, Scotty,” Stiles said, putting a hand to his heart in mock affection. “I didn't know you cared.”
Scott snorted and said, “Yeah, you do. Don't be an idiot.”
A smile split Stiles' lips. “Yeah, I do.” He kept his eyes on Scott's, holding his gaze for a few more moments until the tension felt like too much. They seemed to get caught in that fairly often these days. It was getting so bad that Derek had to snap his fingers in between them the other day. Stiles was never going to live that down, if the constant embarrassing reminder texts Derek kept sending him were any indication.
“So, what do we do?” Stiles asked as he bent over to pick up the little werewolf. She was soft and squishy in his hands, wriggling around and letting out soft huffing noises. Stiles held her bottom and moved her so her head was resting on his right shoulder, his other hand combing softly through her fur.
“I should probably try and see if I can get her to shift back,” Scott said as he moved closer to join Stiles in petting her fur. “She might be old enough to talk, she could tell us where her pack is and how she got here.”
Their fingers crossed over one another and Stiles froze, his heart pounding in his chest. Keeping his eyes down he asked, “And what if she doesn't have a pack?”
Scott moved his hand so their fingers interlocked and he squeezed Stiles' hand until they began petting her together, soothing her soft whines. Stiles looked up to find a gentle smile on Scott's face.
“Then she'll join our pack,” Scott replied.
A warmth spread through Stiles. He wasn't sure how he had become attached so quickly to this little ball of fur, but he wouldn't be happy if they had to let her go. Stiles knew that Scott would do whatever he could to protect her, pack or not. Just another thing about his best friend that made Stiles love him.
“Thanks,” Stiles said, wishing he could find more words to tell Scott exactly how he made him feel. But the look on Scott's face told Stiles that maybe he didn't need to. And the soft kiss Scott placed on Stiles' lips a moment later confirmed it.
“C'mon,” Scott said as he led Stiles to the family room. “Let's see if we can get her to talk to us.”
Stiles followed with a stupidly sappy grin on his face and his fingers stroking the contented werewolf's fur. “Don't worry, girl. We'll take care of you.”