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Stiles sees the fire truck slowly rolling down the street and sighs, because he knew this would happen.
“Shit,” Stiles mutters. “Play it cool, Derek. I’m gonna try to gaslight these EMTs.”
Because really, what else can he do, when he’s got a giant black wolf walking beside him?
And it’s not like he can even blame Derek for this one. It was a witch, pissed that they’d accidentally trampled through her summoning circle or something, which was completely, 100% not their fault. They know they don’t own these woods, that it’s not their territory, that they’re just guests to the area while the pack earns their bachelor degrees. Point is, they didn’t know that that was her corner of those woods, and they would have let her be if they did.
But anyway, the witch got mad, cursing Derek before disappearing into the fucking night like she’s Batman or something. And now Derek is stuck in a full-shift, and Stiles has to get his furry ass home. Stiles is pretty sure he knows a spell to undo this, but they have to get home first.
And now, the authorities are involved. Just what he fucking needed, a cherry on top of this shit sundae of a night. Go to college in Los Angeles, they all said. It will be fun, they said. Categorically untrue, they somehow managed to move to a place worse for supernatural melodrama than Beacon Hills, and now he’s trudging home at two o’clock in the morning with a creature menacing enough that someone called 911.
But anyway.
Beside him, Derek huffs at Stiles’ earlier statement, but Stiles can tell he’s a little on edge too. Derek is still in there, but his control is shot, and he’s not entirely himself. Honestly, the last thing they need right now is a whole team of first responders, but hey, when it rains it pours.
God, there’s a non-zero chance that animal control will get called, and he would love to see them try to get Derek into one of those animal transport vans, he really truly would.
The truck, belonging to the 118 apparently, pauses next to him, and it takes absolutely everything inside of Stiles not to burst out laughing, because holy shit, their faces right now.
He forgets, sometimes, just how terrifying the wolves can be. Stiles has had more than six years to grow used to their presence, and now, he simply forgets that Derek in his full shift is scary enough to make a full team of presumably very brave paramedics and firefighters completely unwilling to get out of their truck.
“Hey,” Stiles calls out, wanting to have the edge in this conversation. “Can I help you guys?”
“We got a call about a loose wolf in the street,” one of them explains. He’s a man in his early to mid fifties if Stiles had to guess, and he absolutely radiates Dad Energy™. His helmet indicates that he’s the captain of this particular crew. “And were sent to investigate.”
“Oh, that sounds really dangerous,” Stiles replies, nonplussed. After all, the first step of getting out of trouble with the authorities is simply denying everything. “Hope you guys find it!”
“Kid,” Captain Dad says, sounding more than a little frazzled. “That is a wolf.”
“Wolves? In California? Pfft.” Stiles retorts, this time trying for deflection. “Nah, he’s just my mutt.”
Captain Dad turns to one of his teammates, who says something that Stiles can’t quite make out. He is pretty sure that he hears the words ‘direwolf’ and ‘extinct’ though. He’ll have to ask Derek about it when they get home. Meanwhile, Captain Dad is clearly weighing his options on how to proceed. “What’s your name?”
“Stiles,” Stiles replies, and since he can’t help himself, he continues, “This is Sourwolf.”
“Okay Stiles, would you like to explain how and why you’re walking the streets of Los Angeles with a wolf?”
“He’s not a wolf,” Stiles lies, because it’s not like he can say ‘actually, it’s just my boyfriend, he’s a werewolf stuck in a full-shift because of a witch’. Not without getting a 5150 called on him, at least. “He’s just a dog. We’re out for a walk.”
Captain Dad does not seem convinced. “At two in the morning?”
“I mean, it’s not like I have to worry about being robbed, not with Sourwolf here.”
His spark, which he can actually control now, helps too, but once again, he’s trying to avoid the 5150.
Captain Dad looks tired, and Stiles would almost feel bad if there literally wasn’t any other option. Beside him, Derek sits, obviously deciding that this interaction is going to take a while.
“Well, what breed is he then?” Captain Dad asks, after a minute.
“He’s a mix.”
“A mix of what?”
“…two very large dogs.” Stiles replies, completely deadpan. Captain Dad gives him the Dad Look™, and Stiles quickly continues, flying by the seat of his pants. “Honestly, we’re not entirely sure. Part malamute maybe? There’s probably some German Shepherd or husky in there as well. He was a stray when I got him, living all by himself in the ruins of a burnt down house in my hometown. It was very sad.”
Stiles can practically feel Derek’s eye roll next to him, and hears his huff. “Where’s the lie, Sourwolf?”
Captain Dad turns to his team, obviously trying to work out what to do. Stiles had hoped they’d just let them walk, or just decide it was too much effort to deal with, but that doesn’t seem to be the case.
So, Stiles plays the trump card. The one he hoped Derek would never find out about. But, desperate times call for desperate measures.
“He’s my service dog,” Stiles says, interrupting their discussion over whether or not they should call animal control. “My emotional support animal.”
“Shouldn’t he be in one of those vests?” One of the firefighters asks, this time a younger man with blond hair, and honestly, Stiles knows a fellow bisexual with ADHD when he sees one. They recognise their own.
“Well, he’s not working now.” Stiles says.
“You have the paperwork for that?” Captain Dad asks, sounding more than a little skeptical.
“Not the originals, but I have a scan of it on my phone,” Stiles replies. “I got him registered a while back.”
“That’s fine, let me see.”
Stiles hands his phone over and waits, not for Captain Dad’s approval, but for Derek’s indignity. He does not disappoint. Derek starts to growl, and Stiles knows the tone. It’s his ‘what the fuck, Stiles’, mixed with his ‘I’m legitimately offended by that’ , with just a tinge of ‘I’m going to rip your throat out with my teeth’.
An overreaction, honestly.
“Dude, I literally did this for this exact situation,” Stiles says, because honestly, he’s just being prepared. Derek is the one blowing this out of proportion. “Would you rather go to the pound?”
Derek continues to grumble, mollified, and Stiles can’t help but roll his eyes. “Drama Queen. Scott didn’t complain nearly as much when he found out I registered him.”
In fact, Scott had found it hilarious, thank you very much.
“He doesn’t sound happy.” Another one of the firefighters, this time a man who honestly looks like he could be a GQ model in his spare time, comments.
“I promise you, he is all bark and no bite,” Stiles swears, while giving Derek a glare he hopes conveys ‘please just play along so we can leave’. “Well, maybe a little bitey. Sometimes. But like, not right now. He just wants to go home.”
GQ model does not look convinced, but he drops it. Derek, meanwhile, must pick up on the vibes that Stiles is desperately trying to throw down, because he rummages through Stiles’ pockets and pulls out his house keys.
“Your dog is like, super smart.” Blond bisexual comments.
“Yeah, he has his moments.” Stiles smirks, because what kind of a boyfriend would he be if he didn’t tease him from time to time? Derek, however, is apparently not in the mood for it, because he turns around and nips him, right on the soft side of his thigh.
“Ow, hey!” Stiles squawks, more surprised than anything else. It wasn’t hard enough to do any damage - Derek would never hurt him - but it’s enough to get his message across. Stiles hip checks Derek in retaliation, because that was the opposite of helpful in their current predicament, but he doesn’t even budge an inch. “Asshole! I’m trying to help!”
“You okay?” Another member of the crew, one of the paramedics, asks. She seems concerned, as does the rest of the team.
“Yeah, absolutely fine, he’s only like that with me,” Stiles quickly reassures, before they call in the animal control. Turning to Derek, he says, “Jeez, okay, I get it.”
Derek huffs, sounding somewhat appeased, if still unhappy. Stiles just knows there’s going to be words once Derek’s back to his usual self.
Captain Dad hands the phone back to Stiles. “That’s all in order, but legally, he should be on a leash.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Stiles says, you know, like a liar. “Am I okay to go? It's only a few blocks to my house, I swear. Scout’s honor.”
Captain Dad hesitates for a moment.
“Please just go home,” Captain Dad says. If Stiles had to guess, it’s because of the paperwork. “Before we get any more calls about it.”
“Absolutely.” Stiles promises, keen to get started on finding a spell and just putting this whole night behind them.
“And start walking him with a leash.” Captain Dad adds.
“You got it, Captain Dad,” Stiles replies, and shit, did he just say that out loud? Okay, time for a speedy exit. “Have a good night!”
With that, Stiles quickly turns and starts walking towards their house, just in case they change their minds. But after a few moments, the truck begins to drive away, and Stiles sighs.
“Just what tonight needed, hey?” Stiles says, as the red and blue lights fade into the distance.
Derek says nothing, just walking ahead and pointedly ignoring him.
“Seriously? The silent treatment?” Stiles says, because come on. “I know you find the dog comparisons offensive, but I absolutely got us out of that one. Which, for the record, is the only reason I got Deaton to write up that paperwork anyway.”
Derek huffs, and Stiles knows it’s probably the closest he’ll ever get to agreement on the issue. They walk in silence, but a few minutes down the street, Derek gently brushes up against him. Stiles runs his hands through Derek’s fur, aiming for soothing. He can tell that Derek is stressed, tense from being trapped in his full-shift. “Come on, Derek, let’s get you uncursed.”