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Stiles has had literally the worst day ever, and he grumbles as he shuts the door to his jeep, still trying to get rid of the mostly dried coffee on his shirt. He woke up late, couldn’t find any clean shirts and the jeep wouldn’t start, so he was fifteen minutes late to class. His shift was full of whiny middle aged women who wanted the most complicated coffees available, and his manager was pissed so he didn’t get a break. All of which culminated in someone spilling their coffee all over his shirt just as he was leaving to go home. Ugh.
He makes his way into the building, checking his phone as the lift makes its way up to the top floor before he knocks rapidly on the door before sliding it open without an answer.
“Derek!” He calls, pushing the door closed again. “I’ve had such a fucking terrible day, I demand food and snuggles!”
Usually by now Derek would have appeared and swept him up into a kiss- he says he isn’t romantic but he doesn’t fool Stiles- however he is nowhere to be seen.
“Derek?” Stiles asks again, dumping his bag of books on the sofa. “Are you home? We were gonna have a cosy night in remember and I seriously need that right now.”
There’s a rustling to the side, where Derek had nothing for ages and then finally decided to put a fully fitted kitchen and dining room. Stiles heads into the kitchen and is not prepared for what he finds.
“What the fuck is that?” Stiles says, looking murderously at the ball of fluff sitting on Derek’s lap.
“It’s a cat,” Derek replies calmly, one and scratching at the kitten’s ear. The kitten butts its head at Derek’s hand, asking for more love. It’s black with a white belly and it looks evil.
“Yes, Derek, I am fully aware if it’s species,” Stiles says, rolling his eyes. “Why is it here though? You know I hate cats!”
Derek just continues to silently stare at him, whilst continuing to pet the cat. “I found it. Its mother had died and was all alone. I couldn’t just leave it there, it’s only young. Come on Stiles, it’s friendly. You don’t want to leave it to die, do you?”
Stiles stops short and runs a hand through his hair.
“Well… no. but can’t you just give it to Deaton? I mean, really? I don’t want it in the flat.”
At this Derek sighs, and beckons Stiles over. Stiles, against his better judgement because let’s face it cats are demons covered in fur, approaches him.
“Deaton doesn’t have space right now. Look, just stroke him. He won’t mind.”
Stiles grimaces, but nevertheless holds his hand out in order to pet the cat. As if he has some kind of anti-cat radar on him, the kitten shoots his head up, hisses, and immediately scratches Stiles’ arm deep enough to draw blood.
“Fuck!” Stiles shouts, flinching backwards trying to stop the flow of blood. “Jesus Christ Derek! Yeah, it’s a real stellar cat you’ve got there!”
Derek just sits there, holding onto the now apparently snoozing cat, looking mildly bewildered.
“He didn’t do that to me…” Derek says slowly, looking at the furball of doom in his lap.
“Of course he didn’t do it to you, Derek, because you’re the animal whisperer.” Stiles grumps. He now has blood on his new shirt as well as coffee. Brilliant. “You know what? I’m just gonna head home. I’ve had enough. I’ll see you when you’ve gotten rid of that rat.”
And with that, Stiles heads out the room, picks up his bag and slams the door behind him. He’s feeling high with righteous anger until the strap on his bag snaps and sends all of his crap flying with most of it landing in an inconveniently placed puddle.
Worst. Day. Ever.
-
The next few days involve Stiles sleeping a lot, eating more Chunky Monkey than is probably healthy, and crying at really, really terrible films. It’s not his fault, okay? Derek hasn’t tried to contact him once since he left the loft on Thursday evening. He skips his only lecture on Friday and resurfaces late Saturday afternoon to his dad looking very unsympathetic.
There’s a pack meeting on Saturday night, and however annoyed Stiles is at Derek and demon kitty, he should go. He showers, styles his hair and gets going.
He notices as he goes to slide open Derek’s door, that the pack are not being as loud as usual. Meaning, he hasn’t heard the sound of something breaking as a wolf is inevitably pushed into something. The pack has become extremely well acquainted with the broom in the last few years.
When he opens the door. He realises why. The whole pack are cooing over that tiny little bundle of fluff on the sofa and Stiles instantly remembers why he hasn’t been over in two days.
“Stiles!” Scott says excitedly. “Have you met this little sweetie? His name is Floyd!”
Derek watches Stiles as he grimaces and nods.
That sorts of sets up the theme for the whole evening really, the cat relishing in cuddles whilst Stiles looks on away from the others sulking. He can’t believe his own boyfriend and his brother would choose a kitten over him.
Nobody seems to notice Stiles’ foul mood, or if they do, they don’t care. Stiles wants to leave early, but he also wants to snuggle with Derek and possibly discreetly get rid of Floyd somewhere so he sits patiently whilst the pack eat takeout and take turns with the cat that apparently seems to love everyone apart from him. Even Lydia is seemingly entranced by the kitten, only voicing her disgust at having cat hair on her lap once.
They play ball with the cat, give it obligatory belly rubs, and the cat revels in it, although he still seems to look at Stiles with hatred every time Stiles tries to get closer and join in. eventually, it ends up with everyone on one sofa with the cat, and Stiles is left all on the other side of the room, on the rickety chair they only use if there’s no space, trying desperately not to cry a little. He is ignored by everyone the whole evening, and nearly doesn’t even get to order his usual for the takeaway because no-one is paying attention to him.
He doesn’t want to seem whiny or anything, which is why he doesn’t speak up, but he kind of wanted to have a good time with his friends. He even hoped Derek would apologise and let him sit on Derek’s lap, but Derek seems to have just given up on Stiles completely. Stiles retaliates by sitting down and brooding. It’s like a personality change. He’s literally turning into his boyfriend! Or ex, Stiles reminds himself moodily, since it appears he’s been replaced by a stupid cat.
Slowly but surely everyone leaves and Stiles watches Derek fuss with the kitten, feeding it milk.
Stiles is suddenly struck by how peaceful Derek looks holding the cat on his lap, a soft smile gracing his face and his movements soft and gentle. It’s the kind of look Stiles would imagine Derek would give his children if he ever had any and he is hit by a wall of love and emotion. He’s being stupid, insensitive and downright childish. That cat would have died if it wasn’t for Derek being so kind and caring, and whilst Stiles isn’t a fan of cats he doesn’t believe Floyd should have been left for dead either.
Throughout all the time they’ve been together, Stiles has just wanted Derek to be happy, and if this sodding little fluffball is the solution, then Stiles will deal. Maybe one day the cat will even tolerate him.
Stiles sits by Derek and watches him as he feeds the cat. It’s calm and the atmosphere is peaceful and soft, much like if the two of them were alone together in the first place. Maybe that little furball wouldn’t make such a difference to their relationship as Stiles thought, he was maybe overreacting. Just a teensy bit though. He still has his pride.
“I’m sorry I was so mean to Floyd,” he says quietly. “I just don’t really like cats. But I can understand that he needs a home and he seems to get along with the pack. I can see you love him so I guess…” he trails off as Derek kisses him softly.
“You’re still my number one Stiles, I promise.” Derek says, looking at Stiles in that way that makes his knees go weak. “Now how about those cuddles I owe you?”
The cat stays, and Stiles eventually laughs at how Floyd loves him more than Derek.