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Derek groans. He should not have let Erica talk him into doing shots last night. His head hurts and his mouth tastes like somethings died in there. He probably smells even worse. And he thinks something’s wrong with his legs. There’s an odd, warm pressure on it. Did he hurt himself getting back to Cora’s last night?
‘Good morning?’ a bright voice calls out. It’s loud, but most importantly, familiar.
He peeks open his eyes and sees Stiles sitting on the coffee table next to the couch. Why is Stiles in Cora’s apartment? Then he catches the colour of the couch. Red. His sister doesn’t have a red couch.
‘Oh, fuck.’ He’s broken into his sister’s hot neighbour’s apartment. The guy he’s been trying to ask out for months, but every time he tries his tongue gets paralyzed.
He tries to get up, but a sharp pain in his left leg makes him freeze.
‘What’s happened to my legs?’ he asks, panicked.
‘Natasha,’ Stiles says, smiling broadly.
‘What’s a Natasha?’
‘Natasha Romanoff, my cat.’
‘Ah.’ Derek drops back down on the couch and buries his face into one of the throw pillows. Maybe he’ll suffocate, then he won’t have to deal with the embarrassment of being trapped by a tiny ginger cat. He can hear Stiles trying to muffle his laughter.
‘You need coffee?’
Derek nods. He jolts when Stiles pats him on the head, dislodging Natasha with the sudden movement. Derek quickly sits up in the hopes of making his escape, but the moment he’s upright, the ginger is in his lap.
‘Great,’ he sighs. He’s being held hostage.
Two minutes later, Stiles is back with two mugs.
‘Here.’
Derek accepts the coffee gratefully. They both sip in silence for a while.
‘You know,’ Stiles begins, ‘my first instinct was to call the cops. I mean, “stranger danger” and all that. But Natasha seemed to like you and you looked like you were about to fall over, so I decided to let you stay.’
‘Wait, you saw me come in?’
‘Yep,’ Stiles says, sounding gleeful.
‘Oh god.’ Derek hadn’t thought it could get worse. He’d been so wrong.
‘You also patted my face and called me “hella fine”.’
‘No, I didn’t.’ He really, really hopes so.
‘You definitely did.’ The man across from him looks like he’s doing his best not to burst out laughing.
In his lap, Natasha starts purring.
‘You know, she never does that,’ Stiles muses. ‘She must approve of you. Well, they do say that cats can sense what their owners like.’
It takes a moment for Derek’s sleep and alcohol addled brain to realize what Stiles is saying.
‘Does that mean you’ll have breakfast with me?’
‘Yes, it does.’
Stiles moves and sits down next to Derek. The moment he sits down, Natasha jumps up. She headbutts Derek, then Stiles, and jumps of the couch to disappear into another room.
‘Did your cat just give us her blessing?’ Derek asks astonished.
‘Yep,’ Stiles says, popping the p. ‘And a good thing, too. My last boyfriend had to get stitches because of her, once.’