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If there was one thing Stiles liked about the city, it was the buildings. Only because at night he can jump around as much as he wanted. Every now and then he'll run around in his cat form, a clouded leopard. He couldn't do it all the time though, because his species wasn't even native to America and if anyone saw him, that wouldn't be great for him. If he got caught, he'd probably get sent to the zoo.
Which in hindsight wouldn't be all that bad because free food, but he liked his freedom and being human. He especially loved showers. Every now and then he wanted to just go live in the wild.
There were times where he hated his job and boss but that wasn't a good enough reason to do anything drastic.
Especially when a pack of werewolves decided to come into the city and bring a hunter with them.
No, nu uh.
That wasn't going to fly.
Everything was going great in the Big Apple. Had his own territory and plenty of room to move around as he pleased. But then these guys had to show up and just because there were no other packs in the area, they thought it was free game.
So what did he do? He interrupted what appeared to be a pack meeting.
“Well isn't this cute,” he said in a low drawl.
All eyes fell on him – or up to him, really – in his spot amongst the rafters. Of course the Alpha would choose one of the empty lofts that hadn't had tenants for years.
“How did you get in here?” The man growled.
Well hello good looking.
Stiles locked the corner of his lips and slipped backwards, falling from the beam and landed on his feet.
The werewolves around him were staring at him with wide eyes like he didn't just fall down from the rafters like it was nothing.
“Don't assume that you're the only supernatural creatures here. In fact, you're the first pack of werewolves to be here in a few years. I've been here all my life.
“Well aren't you just adorable,” the wild haired blonde cooed at him with a crooked grin.
“Hey, she-wolf,” he addressed her, raising a brow. “Don't do that.”
“Or what?” She taunted, and he could see the Alpha tensing.
In the blink of an eye, Stiles was behind her, grabbing the back of her head with a strong grip in her hair and slammed it down forward, a horrible thudding sound from where it connected with the concrete ground.
The others didn't know what to do at that moment. Did they help their fallen pack mate or stay away from this stranger.
They look to their Alpha.
“What are you?” The werewolf questioned.
Stiles looked up to him, his eyes flashing quickly between golden brown, light blue, and a bloody crimson color.
“I'm a werecat,” he grinned smugly, releasing the girl and standing. He then offered a hand to her. Reluctant she took the hand, although she was – at the moment – thoroughly embarrassed.
“Better luck next time, Catwoman,” he said to her, which caused her to cackle and sneer heatedly at him.
“So you just turn into a cat? Like a house cat?” Another werewolf asked, and Stiles came to the conclusion that with his eyes, he was a big puppy.
“Yeah, sure.” Stiles shrugged. The less they knew, the better.
“Now there was one thing I wanted to bring up. I don't care if you stay, help yourselves. Just don't include me in you disputes.”
“Is that all?” The Alpha asked, crossing his arms.
“No, I want to know what the hell you were thinking bringing a hunter along with you,” Stiles hissed.
Most of the werewolves stiffened, along with the hunter herself. He took note that the dark haired puppy took a step closer to the girl.
“Allison is no threat to you. Unless you do something to provoke her.”
“This is fucking great, really. Do you always do this? Go into someone else's territory without telling them and bringing along a hunter?”
“She's not going to be a problem,” the man insisted, clearly losing patience. Well good, because Stiles was losing his, too.
“You can't do this,” Stiles snapped. “I don't care if you wolves are en-roaching on my territory, but no hunter will be on it willingly.”
The Alpha growled lightly, “She's in my pack and you won't touch her.”
Stiles leveled him with a look. “Pack or not, I will defend my territory against any and all threats. I see her as a threat. I have been doing so for the last ten years and will continue doing so. And I don't care if she does have a pretty face, Alpha.”
With that he was gone.
(-)
Back in his own apartment, Stiles was pacing. It was the anxious pacing where he knew nothing good was going to happen.
Damn. A pack of werewolves and a hunter. How much more horrible could this go?
They should be happy that he wasn't making as such a big deal as he should. If he were anyone else. He would have flat out attacked the hunter.
But if he did, there would be eight or so werewolves on his tail. That didn't sound fun.
He finally sat down on his couch, arms pulling his blanket onto himself and let his head fall against the arm of the couch.
This sucked.