Archive of Our Own ^beta

Derek places the neatly folded towel on top of the shelf, moving quietly onto the next clean towels and blankets that need organizing. It’s not a secret that he loves doing the laundry at the shelter, despite the overwhelming smell of urine and wet dog. Still, he chooses to spend most of his time either doing laundry or visiting the cat room.

Many of the volunteers actively avoid the laundry room, not liking the monotony of it when they could be petting puppies or walking dogs. But Derek loves the peacefulness of the quiet repetition, the solitude of working by himself for hours, and the freedom to simply stand in silence, focusing all of his energy on one menial task.

Today, however, there is no peace or quiet for him. Instead, Erica is perched on the dryer next to him, reminding him all of the reasons why he prefers to spend his time in the more secluded parts of the shelter.

“I’m just saying, you’ve been pining after Stiles for months now,” she lectures. “It’s getting really pathetic and you need to do something about it." 

Derek’s hands falter at the comment, causing him to have to start over, spreading out the tattered blanket again before bringing the corners together and refolding it.

“I already tried,” he says shortly, hoping that would be the end of it. Of course, it isn’t because Erica can’t let anything go unexamined. Her brown eyes widen and she leans forward, a devious smile on her red lips.

“What? When? How did it go? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You know, when I came into the laundry room, I was expecting to do laundry in silence. Not gossip with you about my relationship problems,” he comments drily.

“I’m not leaving until you tell me. I’ll start singing Top 40 songs-”

Derek exhales loudly through his nose, but reluctantly admits, “I asked him on a date, it was a month ago, and I didn’t tell you because he said no.” That was the nice version of the story.

“He said no?” Erica’s face scrunches in confusion, “but you’re…” She trails off, gesturing at his figure.

Derek’s expression sours even further. “Yeah, well, looks aren’t enough for a lot of people, okay? They want personality too and I…don’t have an ideal one.”

Erica frowns as her grip tightens on the dryer in anger. “That’s bullshit. Why would you think that? What exactly did he say to you? Wait, no, what did you say to him?” 

He knows she won’t let the topic go until she gets all the information she wants, so he clears his throat and starts from the beginning. “I asked him if he wanted to get coffee, he laughed and then said, and I quote, ‘no thanks, not interested’.” Erica winces in sympathy as he tonelessly recites the quote.

Derek reaches for the next towel to fold, staring down at it with his lips tugged down in a frown. Even a month later, it still stings when he remembers the particularly harsh rejection. He had considered that Stiles might not say yes, since they didn’t talk much other than the small talk they made in passing, but he didn’t expect the sudden bark of disbelieving laughter or the blatant disinterest.

He tried not to let it bother him too much though, shrugging off the humiliation and still coming in two days a week to volunteer, the same routine as always. The only difference now is that he actively avoids Stiles and the areas he normally volunteers in. Not that he’ll ever admit that part out loud, especially not to Erica.

Erica blinks in surprise before her thin eyebrows furrow, an indignant expression taking over her face. “I can’t believe he turned you down like that. He actually laughed? Next time I see him cleaning a cage, I’m going to push him in the mess instead. ‘Not interested’ my ass, how could anyone not be interested in you?”

Derek turns his head to hide his smile and pretends to focus on folding another towel, secretly warmed by Erica’s outrage on his behalf. “He has a right to say no, Erica. And it’s really not a big deal-”

“Not a big deal? Derek, you’re wonderful! You’re hot like woah, but you’re also very caring, sweet, and, okay, your humor is admittedly dry, but you can be genuinely funny without trying. If Stiles can’t see that, then he’s obviously not worth your time.”

“Thanks,” Derek glances up at the wall clock—a recently acquired habit since he’s been rejected. The clock reads two minutes to 5pm. Time to go.

“As wonderful as this talk has been, I’m going to work with the cats now,” he states, striding towards the door.

Erica follows his gaze to the clock and laughs obnoxiously. “Are you seriously hiding from little Stilinsk-”

Derek glares at her and slams the door shut, cutting her off, but still able to hear her cackles permeating from the other side. He just wants to see the cats, it has nothing to do with the fact that Stiles volunteers every Friday at 5pm, nothing at all.

He walks down the white, stone hallways, bombarded by the loud, abrasive barks and shrill whines as he passes through the dog wing. At the end of the hall is the entrance to Derek’s home away from home: the highly secluded cat room. He shoulders past the door and enters, letting the door behind him fall shut with a soft click. The cat room’s metal door is always kept closed in an attempt to keep it as quiet as possible, which isn’t very quiet at all considering it’s connected to the dog’s area.

The cat room is about a third of the size of the dog’s hallway, but holds about twice as many cages, all of which are stacked along the three walls. Derek grabs the hand sanitizer on the floor, squirting some onto his palms and rubbing it in as he looks around, taking note of the inhabitants inside the cages.

His heart sinks when his eyes land on Spooky licking his paw in cage 9. He’s not a beautiful cat by any means, but he is one of the sweetest. He’s solid black with a short coat of fur that has fallen out in areas from stress, leaving ugly patches in its wake. He’s been with the shelter for nearly four months now, having had little interest expressed in him due to his sickly appearance and the fact that he’s an adult cat.

Derek sidles up to the cage and smiles as the cat immediately rubs against the bars in greeting. Spooky is rumbling affectionately, ready for the attention he knows he will surely get. Derek opens the cage and lifts the animal into his arms. Spooky melts against his chest, purring happily as he rolls onto his back and stares up at Derek.

“You’re awfully snuggly today,” Derek murmurs, stroking the cat’s cheek with his thumb. Spooky’s yellow eyes shut in pleasure as he pushes into the contact.

The sound of the door opening startles Derek, but he relaxes when he sees it’s only Scott entering the room.

“Hey man,” Scott greets with a charming grin. “Don’t mind me, I’m just marking their charts for surgeries.” He heads over to the large board next to the door where all the charts are attached underneath their corresponding cage numbers.

“I noticed Meowna Lisa isn’t in her cage,” Derek blurts, unable to control his curiosity. He’s hoping for the best, that she’s been adopted during the week while he was at school teaching. The unfortunate part of volunteering at a kill shelter is that the worry is always there, the fear that the worst has finally happened constantly hanging over his head like a dark cloud.

Scott swivels around, beaming. “Yeah, man, they didn’t tell you up front? She got adopted on Wednesday.”

Derek feels like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders. He’s been waiting for her to be adopted since a man claiming he found the kitten wandering on the street brought her in three weeks ago. “That’s great.”

“The couple that took her home really loved her name, they kept going on about how adorable it was. You did a good job choosing a name for her,” Scott says.

“Thanks,” Derek’s ears tint pink in embarrassment as he nods. 

Spooky meows at him and bats his cheeks lightly with a paw, clearly displeased that Derek’s attention isn’t focused solely on him. Derek huffs out a laugh as the cat digs his claws into his shirt and uses it to hoist his thin body up. He stretches, snuffling into Derek’s neck and burrowing as close as he can while Derek’s hand sweeps across his fur.

Scott flashes him a parting smile and leaves the room, the open door giving Derek an unobstructed view of Stiles working in the dog wing. The handsome, younger volunteer is opening Puff’s cage, bending down inside it to greet the excited shih-tzu jumping at his feet. Stiles works with all the dogs, but spends a majority of his time and energy on training Puff and getting him noticed by possible-adopters. But, even after two months of Stiles’s dedicated attentions, the dog has been routinely ignored time and time again in favor of the cuter, younger, and more trainable dogs.

Puff isn’t necessarily a problematic or aggressive dog. He’s an older shih-tzu, just pushing six years old this upcoming summer, with severely bowed legs and glassy eyes. To top it all off, his dark color and goofy face lead him to often be referred to as ‘the Ewok in cage 4’ by many volunteers and staff. It’s an unfortunate comparison since Puff is truly a gentle ball of fluff more than anything else. Sure, he can be stubborn at times, is difficult to train, and is one of the oldest animals at the shelter, but he’s an adoring dog that wants nothing more than to give and receive affection.

The metal door closes shut, but the window in the middle of it still allows Derek a silent view as Stiles cheers and enthusiastically pets Puff for sitting on command. Stiles attaches the leash to his collar, standing and hopping awkwardly over toys as he exits the cage. Derek smiles in amusement, only to flush abashedly when bright amber eyes snap up and meet his. Derek moves his head to the side, trying to redirect his attention to the cats. He puts Spooky back in his cage and washes his hands before moving onto the next cat.

He spends a total of two hours in the cat room, giving the lonely animals affection and cleaning their cages as needed. By the time he heads to the front of the shelter, he’s covered in a layer of cat fur and smells absolutely dreadful—like a bad mix of tuna and dirt.

“Maggie has a runny nose and is sneezing a lot. She’s in cage 6. Tell director Finstock she needs to be moved to the isolation room,” Derek relays absently to Allison, the cheery brunette receptionist at the front. She smiles and nods, making a note of it on the computer.

“Thanks for your help today, we’ll see you tomorrow,” she says as he signs out.

Derek grunts and waves, stepping through the glass doors and out into the cold January weather.

Only ten feet out of the building, he hears it: a thump and a pained squawk. Derek pivots towards the sound and spots Stiles at the far side of the parking lot, lying on the ground with a large German Shepard tugging out of his grip and running free.

“No, Lucas! Stay!” Stiles yells as he scrambles gracelessly to his feet. He’s limping as he struggles forward, visibly injured, and it’s obvious he won’t be fast enough to grab the dog in time. Derek darts past him and snatches onto the end of the leash, stopping Lucas in his tracks before he makes it onto the grass. Just beyond the thin green strip is the highway where cars and trucks whiz past.

Lucas doesn’t seem to mind that his freedom was short-lived or that he was close to wandering onto a dangerous highway. Instead, he’s focused on Derek, peering up at him excitedly with his tongue lolling out of his mouth. Derek lets out a relieved breath, looking down at him and brushing his hand over the dog’s head before leading him over to where Stiles stands nervously.

“Thank you, thank you, oh my god, thank you,” Stiles breathes, staring at Derek with wide, panicked eyes. “I didn’t want to be the first one this month to lose a dog. I mean, I don’t want to lose a dog ever, but Greenberg usually is the first to lose the animals and I just…didn’t want to be that…” he finishes lamely, visibly deflating.

Derek studies the length of Stiles’s body, assessing him for any injuries other than the ankle he’s not putting his full weight on. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, there was ice and I slipped; twisted my ankle, I think. It’ll be fine in an hour, I can walk on it well enough for now,” Stiles says, rubbing his neck shyly and moving his gaze awkwardly to the ground.

Derek nods and they walk silently inside the building together, going through the maze of hallways. Lucas stays by Derek’s side the entire time, calmly following instead of trying to bolt. When they reach the entrance to the dog wing, deafening howls, barks, and the sound of paws scratching against the metal wires at the front of the cages greet them the moment they open the door.

“You know, you’re really good with dogs,” Stiles notes, raising his voice to be heard over the noise, “how come you don’t work in the dog wing?”

Derek shrugs and casually replies, “I used to.”

Stiles opens the cage so that Derek can step inside with Lucas. Derek squats, removing the collar and giving Lucas a pat before he slips out and shuts the cage behind him. Stiles stares at him, his lips pursed and eyes squinted as if he’s evaluating him.

“What changed? You got bit?” Stiles teases, lifting his hand and wiggling his fingers, showing off the skin covered in both old and new cuts. Derek’s mind instantly focuses on the thin fingers, wondering if they would feel as good inside of him as they look.

“No,” Derek says throatily, reigning in his inappropriate thoughts, “but nobody else works with the cats. They’re lucky if they get let out once a day aside from when their cages are being cleaned. Most of the volunteers prefer to work with the dogs, so the cats just get pushed aside.”

Stiles’s gaze doesn’t waver from his; the striking honey-colored eyes boring into his pale green ones. It’s unnerving and Derek can’t help but feel uncomfortable under the intense stare.

“That’s actually really nice of you,” Stiles says softly, licking his lips and tilting his head to the side. A toothy grin forms on his face— the first time that expression has ever been directed towards Derek.

Derek’s heart flutters and he blurts unthinkingly, “You should visit some time.”

Stiles blinks and the smile vanishes from his face in an instant. Derek mentally winces at his own stupidity, obviously having crossed a line.

“I don’t work with cats,” Stiles answers flatly.

“Still, the offer’s there. If you change your mind,” Derek says, handing Stiles the leash and collar. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Derek can feel the curious eyes following him as he leaves, but he doesn’t acknowledge it. He waits until he’s driving away to let the tension seep out of his shoulders.

It wasn’t much, but it was progress between the two of them—possibly the most either of them has said to each other since the beginning. Even if Stiles doesn’t return his feelings, Derek hopes the awkwardness will disappear in time and that they could be normal coworkers again. Maybe even friends.

For the first time in four weeks, he thinks that it might be an actual possibility. 

Derek’s hope starts to dissipate when it’s midday on Saturday and there’s still no sign of Stiles. He tries not to feel disappointed, knowing he shouldn’t have gotten his hopes up that Stiles would take him up on his invitation, but it doesn’t help.

He steps up to Spooky’s cage and scratches the cat’s cheek through the bars. He’s done a lot already, having cleaned all the cages and filled all the water and food bowls.

“I’ll be back in a half hour,” Derek promises, feeling a pang of guilt at leaving them alone so that he can eat his lunch. He makes a mental note to take some of them out to the interaction room soon so they can run around for a bit.

When he weaves through the hallways and enters the lunchroom, he’s surprised to see Allison, Scott, and Stiles all sitting around the table. Their conversation stops immediately upon his presence, leaving an uncomfortable air hanging among them. Derek nods at them, awkwardly shuffling past to get his lunch out of the fridge. He doesn’t want to intrude on their discussion any further, so he quickly grabs his food and strides towards the exit. 

“You can eat in here. With us,” Scott announces. Derek turns slowly and sees him pointing to an empty chair across from Stiles— who is glaring at Scott, shaking his head minutely with a betrayed expression.

Derek frowns. “Thanks, but I think I’ll pass. I’m okay with eating at the front desk.”

As he opens the door, he hears a low thump and a groan from behind, followed quickly by Stiles’s mumbled, “No, no, you should join us. It’s cool.” His face is scrunched in displeasure, obviously uncomfortable despite his words. 

Derek’s frown deepens into a scowl, knowing when he’s clearly not wanted. But Allison and Scott are smiling at him expectantly, so he steps forward and sits in the empty seat, staring intently at his sandwich and resolutely not looking anywhere in Stiles’s direction. He thought that they were making progress, but apparently they hadn’t made any and the brunet obviously still hates him for whatever reason. If Derek had known that asking him on a date would make Stiles dislike him so much, he never would have even tried.

“We were sharing stories before you came in,” Allison explains, “just some things that have happened this week, whether silly or just something notable.”

“Allison said that she got Lacy, the Miniature Pinscher in cage 1, to sit today,” Scott says, looking proud as Allison smiles back with reddening cheeks, “and I had a woman come in on Tuesday to turn in her pet goldfish because she couldn’t ‘handle the responsibility’. I mean, we took it, but who is going to come into a shelter looking to adopt a goldfish? People are ridiculous.” Scott shakes his head in disbelief.

Derek huffs out a laugh, smiling softly as he bites into his sandwich. He’s had his fair share of strange experiences at the shelter over the years. One thing the place never lacks is entertaining stories, to say the least.

“Puff failed another interaction today,” Stiles admits, shrugging dejectedly when Allison makes a sad, deflated noise. “The woman was really interested in him and things went so well at the last interaction that she brought her Poodle in to see if they would get along. Needless to say, they didn’t.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. I know you care a lot about Puff,” Derek says honestly. Stiles shoots him a small, but grateful, smile before gesturing for him to share his own story.

“Uh,” Derek mentally goes through his past two days. “Well, Houdini lived up to his name and escaped his cage because I wasn’t paying attention and didn’t lock it completely. I spent ten minutes rolling around on the floor trying to coax him out from underneath the other cages. And, as if that wasn’t difficult enough on its own, the other cats were smacking him with their paws and hissing at him every time he started crawling towards me.”

Scott and Allison both laugh at the story of Derek chasing after a cat, but Stiles just stares at him with an unreadable expression. Allison continues the conversation, telling another story as the others listen with rapt attention. Derek smirks down into his sandwich as he listens, finally enjoying his lunch break for the first time since he started working at the shelter.  

It takes two weeks for Stiles to finally show up at the cat room. He’s visibly anxious as he looks around the room, wringing the end of his shirt harshly between his hands.

Derek is in the center of the room, cradling Clawdia- a black Mane Coon kitten- against his chest. Stiles eyes the tiny cat warily, his amber eyes flicking up at Derek’s and to the cages.

“I haven’t worked with cats in a long time,” Stiles grumbles. “Are they nice?” He makes a face at his own question, amending it with, “I mean, they aren’t going to attack me, are they?”

Derek huffs a laugh, rubbing his fingers through Clawdia’s fluffy coat. “No, they all enjoy being picked up and held. I haven’t been clawed or bitten by any of them, but if you want an easy cat, Spooky is an attention whore and always loves a good cuddle.”

Stiles makes an odd face. “Did you just use the term ‘cuddle’?” He wanders up to the cage, opening it cautiously as if expecting the black cat to jump out at him. When the cat simply blinks at him and purrs, Stiles reaches in more confidently and tugs the cat towards him. He awkwardly struggles for a moment before getting a comfortable hold on the cat, but when he does, Spooky instantly snuggles closer.

“Yes, Stiles, I can say words like ‘cuddle’. I can also say words such as ‘snuggle’ and ‘hug’ like every other human being in the world,” Derek grouches, not bothering to hide his annoyance.

Stiles flushes in shame, rubbing his face against Spooky’s affectionately. “Sorry, man. I didn’t mean you weren’t-”

“I just don’t understand why you think so badly of me,” Derek interrupts and, seeing Stiles’s mouth opening to protest, adds, “Don’t say you don’t think badly of me, you do. It’s been made pretty clear. I just don’t know what I did to you to earn that impression.”

“You didn’t do anything, okay? You’re just,” Stiles sighs exaggeratedly. “You kinda have a serial killer vibe to you, you know? Like, I rarely see you smile at people and you don’t usually talk to anyone. Not to mention, you’re pretty much always scowling whenever I see you, so…”

“Serial killer vibe,” Derek echoes hollowly, feeling an ache spread in his chest. The comments hurt more than he’d like to admit. He knows he doesn’t come across as happy and carefree, but he just isn’t as expressive with his emotions as other people. He prefers solitude and isn’t always good with other people, often saying the wrong things or making things awkward, but that doesn’t make him a bad guy. “Right.”

“Look, I don’t think you’re actually a serial killer or anything,” Stiles says, giggling slightly when Spooky starts licking his chin. “You volunteer here and cuddle with cats, so obviously you’re a good guy. It’s just-”

“I don’t make a good impression, I know,” Derek grumbles. “It’s fine. I get it.”

“Noooo,” Stiles groans in frustration, “but it isn’t fair because you’re not that guy, you’re not an asshole and you give cats punny names so they have a better chance at being adopted.”

“Who told you I named the cats?” Derek asks, his brows scrunching in confusion.

“Scott,” Stiles smirks. “My favorite so far was Purrsephone.”

Derek shrugs nonchalantly, as if the praise didn’t make his heart beat faster. Clawdia snuffles unhappily at the movement. “It was an obvious one…”

“It’s a skill,” Stiles contradicts with an easy smile.

“So, why are you so afraid of cats?” Derek questions, changing the subject. He grins when Stiles immediately blushes and looks away.

“I’m not afraid of cats,” Stiles denies, “I have an aversion to them; a strong preference to be in a room where they aren’t. No fear, just caution.”

Derek hums disbelievingly in response, bringing Clawdia back to her cage and washing his hands in the sink.

“I’m not,” Stiles mumbles. “I got attacked at my last shelter, okay? Not bad, but, holy shit, cats can be really intimidating with their sharp claws and teeth.” He bares his teeth and shapes a free hand into a claw-shape, growling dramatically. Spooky glances at offending hand, looking scandalized that Stiles had dared to stop petting him for a single moment.

Derek chuckles and steps closer to the other man to scratch behind Spooky’s ears. Stiles’s pink lips part as he watches Derek in surprise.

“We don’t put the more feral cats in this room, the paid staff works with those. So, in the future, you don’t have to worry about being attacked in here,” Derek smiles softly, backing away.

“You make it sound like I’m going to be spending more time with the cats now,” Stiles notes.

Derek’s smile falls, quickly dissolving into a disappointed frown. “Sorry. You don’t have to-”

“I might,” Stiles blurts. “The cats weren’t as bad of company as I had thought. I think I was wrong about them,” Stiles says, staring at Derek meaningfully, a weight behind his words. “They’ve proved me wrong and I wouldn’t mind a chance to spend more time with them. If that’s okay with you.”

Derek clears his throat, stepping forward and reaching out to take Spooky from Stiles. “Well, I’m sure the cats will appreciate having another person to pet them. But, for now, you should probably be getting back to the dogs. I’m sure they miss you.”

Stiles obliges, gently handing over the cat and scrubbing his hands clean before he stops in the doorway. “Hey, Derek?”

“Hmm?” Derek closes the cage, locking Spooky in for the day. He squirts more hand sanitizer on his hands and looks around for the next cat to let out.

“Thank you.”

Derek turns to look at Stiles in surprise.

“For what?”

Stiles simply smiles and shrugs before letting the door fall shut behind him as he leaves. 

Things get better after that. Stiles starts coming in to the shelter more often, for at least an hour every Friday and Saturday. Derek enjoys his company and having someone to finally help him work with the cats.

It becomes a routine for them; after Stiles works with Puff and shows him off for a couple of hours, he’ll stop by the cat room and complain about Puff still not being adopted while he pets Spooky. He hasn’t gathered the courage to approach any of the other cats yet, but Derek doesn’t push or mention it. At least Spooky has another person who appreciates him.

It takes three weeks for their routine to change. The moment Derek enters the dog wing he notices the absence like a missing limb; there isn’t a Stiles or a Puff to be found in the hallway. He doesn’t remember seeing them walking around outside when he had driven up and they definitely weren’t in the lobby when he arrived. Confused, he stalks up to the front desk.

“Did Stiles come in today?” He asks, getting straight to the point.

“He showed up two hours ago and hasn’t left,” Allison points outside to where a blue jeep is parked, “and his car’s still out there. He should be in the back somewhere, you must’ve just missed him." 

Derek grunts a quick, “thanks”, and starts on his search through the hallways for any sign of the younger man. To his increasing concern, the cat room is empty and so is the lunchroom. Deciding to try a hunch, he enters the dimly lit laundry room to find Stiles huddled in the back next to the washer.

Derek shuts the door behind him, giving them privacy. He moves forward slowly, as if approaching a wild animal, and slides down the wall to sit next to the sniffling figure. Derek stays next to him, comfortable to just keep him quiet company and wait for him to talk about what’s bothering him.

It only takes a few moments of silence before Stiles cracks.

“Puff got adopted,” he rasps. “I don’t even know why I’m crying over this, it’s so stupid. He’s alive, he got adopted to a wonderful family that loves Star Wars and thought he was the cutest dog they had ever seen. But…I didn’t get to say goodbye. He got adopted on Monday and I had no way of knowing. He’s been gone three whole days and I never got to say goodbye.” His face is tucked into his knees as he rambles.

Derek hesitantly puts his arm around Stiles’s shoulders, pulling the younger man toward him. Surprisingly, Stiles complies, turning to push his tear-stained face into Derek’s shoulder while wrapping his arms around Derek’s neck.

“It’s not stupid,” Derek murmurs, rubbing calming circles into Stiles’s back. “You spent a lot of time and energy on Puff. He got adopted because of your hard work, you should be proud.” Stiles nods against his shoulder, but closes his arms tighter around Derek.

Derek clears his throat, “I went home and cried the first time one of the cats I named got adopted,” Stiles stills against him, but Derek continues, “I called my sister, Cora, to talk about it and she told me I was being a ‘giant baby’ and needed to get over it because the cat was going to have a great life,” Stiles lets out a wet chuckle causing Derek to grin. “She wasn’t the most understanding, but in a weird way it helped. I still get sad sometimes when some of the cats get adopted, but then I think, ‘I helped this happen, they’re going to be happy and I helped’. Every animal that gets adopted out of here deserves a celebration because they finally made it out.”

“Yeah,” Stiles says, finally pulling back and wiping at his puffy eyes with his sleeve. “I guess they do. I’m still going to miss him though.”

Derek nods gravely, “That’s okay. I still miss Cat-titude.”

Stiles’s head falls back with a loud burst of laughter, “I can’t believe you said that with a straight face. Oh my god, you actually named a cat ‘Cat-itude’?”

Derek smiles, pleased that he’d made Stiles laugh. “I did. To be fair, she was rather feisty.”

Stiles chuckles and stands, extending a hand to help Derek to his feet. “I could really use some one-on-one kitten time right about now.”

“Sounds good to me,” Derek says, following Stiles out of the room. 

By the time March rolls around, Derek and Stiles are getting along better than ever, not a trace of awkwardness between them. They spend two days a week in the cat room together, often just sharing stories from their week or talking about recent shelter gossip.

Derek’s learned that Stiles is a senior in college, graduating with a Criminal Justice degree, while Derek admits that he’s a Spanish teacher at the local middle school. They talk most about their classes, with Stiles complaining about the workload and upcoming graduation while Derek bemoans the lack of interest from his students. 

He’s pretty sure they could be considered friends now and, while his crush has only gotten bigger in this time, Derek manages to be okay with what they have. If Stiles only wants him as a friend, then he will be the best friend the man could possibly ask for.

“…And, when I came in, Martha was having a fit-” Stiles rants, cradling a napping Spooky and rocking him like a baby.

“Martha the volunteer or Martha the dog?” Derek asks cheekily as he thoroughly cleans the cage of a recently adopted cat.

Stiles aims an exasperated face at him, “Martha the volunteer, jackass. You know Martha the dog is made of gumdrops and rainbows and would never ever throw a fit over anything. So, long story short, she’s threatening to quit again.”

Derek lets out a burst of laughter, “Again? Isn’t that the third time this month? I think we’re all just waiting for her to finally follow through at this point.” He turns his head after a moment of silence, confused when Stiles doesn’t respond. At Stiles’s dumbstruck expression, his grin fades and he cautiously asks, “What?”

Stiles shakes his head slightly. “Nothing. I just…you laughed." 

Derek rolls his eyes. “Yes, Stiles, we’ve established that I have human emotions.” 

“No, but…I’ve never seen you really laugh before,” he says softly. “It’s nice. You should do it more often.”

A blush creeps onto Derek’s face as he mumbles his thanks.

“So, kitten season is coming up…” Stiles hedges, changing the topic. Derek winces and closes the cage. He moves onto Fat Cat’s cage, letting the appropriately named heavyset cat roam around so Derek can clean.

“Don’t remind me,” Derek grumbles sadly, nodding towards Spooky. “He’ll be first to go when the kittens overrun the place.” It’s a sad fact of working at the shelter, knowing that not all the animals can be saved. They try their best, sending as many animals to local shelters, rescues, and fosters as possible. But once those options fill up, those that are least likely to be adopted are often the ones that are given up on first.

Derek’s heart sinks into his stomach as he thinks about the possibility that Spooky might not be around in another month.

“Have you considered fostering him?” Stiles asks.

“My apartment complex doesn’t allow pets,” Derek sighs, running a frustrated hand through his hair. It’s covered in fur and who knows what else, but he can’t find it in him to care at the moment. “At this point, we can only hope that someone will adopt him before the summer.”

“Yeah,” Stiles says absently, a dejected frown on his face as he looks down at the dozing cat. There’s a few moments of silence before he adds, “I’m gonna put him back in his cage and take a lunch break, alright?”

Derek nods in affirmation, continuing to scrub the metal box. He focuses on the task, not wanting to think about Spooky’s dwindling chances. He cleans for twenty more minutes, his sleeves covered in dirt and fur by the time he decides he should take a break too.

He rinses his hands and thinks about the progress he and Stiles have made. He knows they’re friends at this point, but sometimes it feels like there’s something more behind Stiles’s expressions. Something akin to affection, maybe, but Derek doesn’t know how to ask. Rejection has made him wary to try for anything more, to take another risk with Stiles.

He’s stuck in his head, pondering his options as he strides towards the lunchroom when he hears it: Stiles is animatedly chattering away in the front office. Likely talking to Scott about Martha’s problem this morning, Derek thinks. He’s prepared to keep moving past, but freezes when he hears his name mentioned. He moves closer to the open door, listening intently, his heart beating faster with hope. What if he’s asking someone for advice about Derek? Or maybe he’s talking about how close they’ve become…

“No, you don’t understand, Scott!” Stiles whines. “It’s like literal torture being in there alone with him.”

Derek’s heart drops to the floor and he blinks rapidly, sure he must have misheard because that doesn’t make any sense. They’ve been getting along, they’ve been talking, Stiles never seemed upset or— 

“He’s just so ridiculous, you know? I mean, have you seen him, Scott? His stupid face, his bunny teeth- oh my god, the bunny teeth- and don’t even get me started on his sense of humor. The cat puns, man! Did you hear about the latest one? I can’t handle it-” 

Derek’s heard enough, he pushes away from the wall feeling sick to his stomach. He rushes past the front office, pushing harshly at the doors as he leaves his lunch in the communal fridge and simply drives home without signing out.

He calls Cora for the first time in six weeks. 

Derek isn’t hiding. He isn’t. He’s just taking a weekend off for the first time in eight months. That it just so happens to be the first time since Stiles has started working at the shelter is only a coincidence. He teaches five days a week and volunteers Fridays and Saturdays; he deserves a weekend off every once and a while, he reasons. It doesn’t quell the feeling of unease in his gut, the sense that he’s not where he’s supposed to be.

That Friday is spent binge-watching HGTV as he cheats on his normally healthy diet, ordering a large pizza and eating slices for every meal that day. Saturday isn’t much better, but he changed the channel to Animal Planet. That’s progress. By Monday, his firm resolution has dissolved into nothingness so he decides to move on and return to the shelter that Friday. He misses Spooky and the other cats, he misses the lunch stories with the other volunteers, and he misses doing laundry with Erica next to him, giving him unwanted advice.

He doesn’t miss Stiles’s laughter, his conversation, or his stories. No, he doesn’t miss Stiles at all. He doesn’t.

When he returns to the shelter, he nods at Allison sitting at the front desk when he signs in, and continues on until he reaches the Cat Room. To his utter surprise, Stiles is already there holding one of the new cats.

Stiles’s face lights up at his presence, leaving Derek feeling like the rug’s been pulled out from under him. He doesn’t understand how anyone can send such conflicting signals; the situation is starting to give Derek mental whiplash.

“I’m making progress,” Stiles grins, puffing out his chest in pride and peering down at the ginger cat in his arms.

Derek grunts, not in the mood to talk to Stiles. Not that that seems to stop the younger man from talking to him.

“I didn’t see you here last weekend,” Stiles mentions casually. “You get busy? Family emergency?”

“Something like that,” Derek says gruffly, reaching into Spooky’s cage and bringing him towards a small carrier. Once the carrier door’s secure, Derek quickly pushes his way out of the room.

“Oh, are you going to bring him to the interaction room to play? Mind if I come?” Stiles yells after him, swiftly putting the ginger cat back in her cage and jogging through the hallway to catch up with Derek. They enter the interaction room together, Derek remaining resolutely silent while Stiles chatters on.

Derek opens the small carrier to let Spooky roam around as Stiles picks out a toy mouse from the basket to toss around. Spooky eyes it, stalking up to it playfully before he pounces on the furry toy and frantically nibbles at it. He chases it around, smacking it with his paws as he goes. Stiles and Derek sit next to each other on the floor, watching the cat play with amusement.

Stiles keeps sneaking unsubtle glances at Derek, appearing nervous, but Derek’s gaze doesn’t waver from the cat.

“You know, when you weren’t here last week, I got worried you weren’t going to come back,” Stiles says lowly. Derek snorts derisively at the comment, causing Stiles to narrow his eyes and snap, “I’m not joking, man! I’ve been having fun and it got me thinking, you know, what if Derek doesn’t come back here? Technically, any of us could walk out that door and decide to stop volunteering at any time.”

Derek shrugs uncaringly. Stiles frowns at the dismissive action.

“What I’m trying to say is,” Stiles clears his throat, starting over and looking pained, “there’s a new coffee shop a few buildings down, and I was wondering if you would like to go there with me sometime? On a date. If that wasn’t clear.” He bites his lip, his honey eyes darting between Derek’s nervously, waiting for an answer.

Derek feels cold, unable to believe what is happening. Is this a joke? A way of making fun of him to get back at him for whatever it was he did to upset Stiles?

Derek narrows his eyes and sneers angrily, he may be a teacher, but he thought he was past all this middle school bullshit.

“No thanks,” Derek mimics coldly, throwing the words Stiles had used before back at him, “not interested.” 

Stiles pales at the harshness and swallows thickly, “Okay. Okay, that’s fair. I deserved that. But, are you…” he licks his lips and stares at the floor, “are you saying that because I didn’t reject you nicely before or because you don’t-”

“No, Stiles,” Derek snarls as he pushes himself to his feet. Spooky looks up from the corner, startled by the nasty tone, “I’m saying that because I don’t usually like having my feelings mocked-” 

Stiles scrambles to his feet, holding his hands out placatingly. “Woah, woah, me mocking your feelings? This was me asking you out because I like you. Have liked you, for weeks now actually. That’s all.”

Derek laughs disbelievingly. “Yeah? You like me so much you run to Scott and tell him how stupid you think I am? How it’s torture to be in the same room as me? You say that about all your crushes or am I just special?”

Stiles’s expression turns horrified, but it doesn’t make Derek feel any better. He doesn’t know why he thought it would.

“Yeah, I thought as much,” Derek whispers dejectedly, opening the door and stepping into the hallway. He doesn’t hear the door click shut behind him, instead only hearing the patter of shoes running on tile floors. 

“Derek, wait!” Stiles pants from behind him. Derek freezes, his hand outstretched towards the exit just feet in front of him. The hand drops to his side and Derek turns around with a defeated expression.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, but it’s not what you think, I didn’t mean it like that,” Stiles looks at him pleadingly, holding Spooky securely against his chest.

Derek rolls his eyes. “I’m not as stupid as you think I am, Stiles.”

Stiles glowers at him. “I know that, okay? I didn’t mean torture in a bad way, which sounds stupid, I know. I meant that it was hard being around you because I like you!”

Derek stills, his brows furrowing together in confusion and frustration, “You like me?” He echoes flatly, “you laughed at me when I asked you out on a date. You rejected me!”

Stiles winces and drags his hand across his face in frustration. “You had a look on your face like you wanted to kill me when you asked! We’d never even talked before that point. I thought you were an asshole with no personality and were just asking me out as a joke.”

“You thought I would ask you out, offer to take you on a date, to spend my time and money on you… as a joke?” Derek asks slowly, perplexed by what exactly was happening. “I’m a teacher, Stiles, not some stereotypical high school jock!”

“I didn’t know that!” Stiles cries, “To us mere mortals, you’re ungodly hot, okay? And when I found out you had a personality to match— I was completely lost. Goddamn it, Derek, I’ve fallen for you so hard, I don’t know which way is up. I’m sorry I rejected you, but I didn’t know you like I know you now.”

Derek’s cheeks flush and he looks around, glad to see there’s nobody around to hear them yelling at each other like some facsimile of a rom com scene.

“You’re funny, you’re super sweet, you cuddle with cats, I adore your bunny teeth…” Stiles lists, stepping closer with every word. Derek smiles shyly at the compliments, ducking his head to hide it. “Your smile is gorgeous…and I know now that you would never have asked me out as a joke because you would never hurt me,” Stiles takes a shaky breath and smiles weakly, “and I never want to hurt you. Derek, I would be extremely lucky to go on a date with you, if you would say yes.”

Derek swallows and searches his honey-colored eyes for any hint of insincerity. Satisfied at finding none, he nods. “Yes. Yes, I’ll go on a date with you.”

Stiles beams and pushes Spooky at Derek’s chest insistently, “Here, hold this.” Derek does, his hands wrapping protectively around the black cat. Shock floods his system when Stiles’s hands- his long, seductive, beautiful hands- caress the stubble on his cheeks and pull him into a kiss.

Stiles’s plump, pink lips are as soft as Derek had imagined. He presses into the kiss, feeling the responding smile against his lips. Spooky yowls between them in annoyance and Derek abruptly pulls back with a dazed expression.

“We should definitely do that more,” Stiles breathes, “like all the time.”

Derek smirks. “Maybe after we put Spooky back in his cage.”

They plan their date for that Saturday. After they volunteer, of course. Stiles attempts to woo him over a fancy dinner with romantic Spanish phrases, but blushes, embarrassed when his terrible pronunciation causes Derek to laugh instead of swoon. 

It’s the best date Derek’s been on in years. 

It’s May and the shelter is swiftly becoming overrun by kittens, litter upon litter getting delivered to their doorstep without giving the shelter time to deal with the ones they already have. Kitten season is in full swing and Derek’s nerves are shaken.

He and Stiles volunteer nearly every day at the shelter now that it’s the summer, but every time Derek walks through the doors he gets a sick feeling that it will be the day that Spooky will finally be gone.

For a while, his worry has been proven to be unnecessary, but today… Today, when he enters the cat room, it’s to the unpleasant sight of Spooky’s cage occupied by four meowing Calico kittens.

Derek was here all week and no one showed any interest in Spooky, but Derek left an hour before closing yesterday, so it was possible he had been adopted in that time. He takes a calming breath, closing his eyes and trying not to panic before he knows anything for sure.

“Derek?”

Derek swivels around in surprise, he had been so caught up in his thoughts he hadn’t heard Stiles enter.

“You okay?” Stiles whispers, obviously seeing the distraught on his boyfriend’s face.

Derek blinks back the tears threatening to spill over. “Yeah, yeah I just…” he gestures weakly towards Spooky’s old cage. 

Stiles glances curiously between him and the cage, “Oh, you mean Spooky?” He smirks, his eyes shining with happiness. "Guess who got adopted last night?”

Derek sucks in a heavy breath, “What?” His voice cracks on the word, overwhelmed by the desperate need for it to be true.

Stiles smiles wider. “My dad got tired of me sending him photos of the ‘super cuddly cat with no home’ all the time and decided he’s been rather lonely since I moved out for college... He says I can visit Spooky whenever I want,” he eyes Derek for a moment, hesitating before adding unsurely, “and that I can bring my boyfriend too. If he wants to come.”

Derek lurches forward, his hands grabbing at Stiles’s shirt, tugging him close and slamming their mouths together desperately. It’s completely graceless, their teeth gnashing before they right their mouths. Derek’s tongue plunges into Stiles’s mouth as he pins him against the door, leaving Stiles breathless by the time he pulls back and rests their foreheads together.

“I can’t believe you’re kissing me while I smell like dog pee,” Stiles chuckles and, at Derek’s inquisitive look, explains, “Hobbit had an accident and, when I went to clean it, Erica came up from behind me and pushed me in it. I don’t know what I did to deserve that, but, basically, I could use a new shirt.” 

“There are clean shirts up at the front,” Derek says through a huff of laughter. Stiles crunches his nose in disgust.

“The ones they give to new volunteers? They’re so ugly Derek, I can’t wear that,” Stiles whines.

“I don’t know, I think neon orange could be your color,” Derek smirks, dodging Stiles’s swat at his arm.

“Asshole.”

Derek’s gaze softens and he steps back into Stiles’s space, giving him a chaste kiss on the cheek.

“Thank you.”

Stiles gives him a confused look. “For calling you an asshole?”

“For helping Spooky,” Derek kisses his other cheek, “for being my boyfriend,” he kisses his nose, “for wanting me to meet your dad,” his lips hover over Stiles’s parted ones. Stiles’s gaze is solely focused on Derek’s mouth as he licks his lips and tilts his head, trying to get closer.

“So is that a ‘yes’ to coming to a Stilinski family dinner, say… next Sunday?” he asks, looking up at Derek from under his eyelashes.

“Definitely a ‘yes’,” Derek whispers before bringing their mouths together again.

Sunday dinner goes so well that the Sheriff invites Derek to return every month. Derek can’t agree fast enough, especially when he sees Stiles’s content smile.

As for Spooky, well, he’s the happiest Derek has ever seen him.