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Screaming.
Derek jolted awake, fangs out and claws ready, before he realised that the screaming wasn’t human, and he couldn't smell anyone bleeding, in pain or fearing for their life. He sniffed and turned one ear to the doorway to listen, but the only thing he could pick out was the tang of excitement and the sound of running paws on carpet. He flopped back down on the bed and shut his eyes, trying to calm himself. His heart was still beating thunderous in his ears. Jesus. He really hated waking up like that.
After a few minutes, Derek reached a hand out and blindly groped for his phone on the bedside table. He fumbled with it for a moment before clicking the home button and squinting at the screen.
6:30. It was 6:30 in the morning. Derek groaned and slammed his phone down on the sheets next to him.
For God’s sake.
When Scott asked him last night if Stiles could stay at Derek’s house while the rest of the pack went off to find the feral werefox that bit his best friend, Derek took one look at the tiny animal cradled in Scott’s arms and thought: ‘That’s cute .’
And then, because he’s a moron, he also opened his mouth and said: “Okay.”
He takes it back now. He takes back ever thinking that Stiles made an adorable fox. He should've known Stiles wouldn't have remained quiet, no matter what form he was in.
There was another ungodly screech from the living room and Derek considered smothering himself with his pillow. Or better yet, smothering Stiles with it until he shut up, but that required actually getting out of bed.
Another screech, this time closer, accompanied by the distinctive, clicking sound of something with claws running at hyperspeed across wood flooring had Derek sitting up abruptly. He moved to swing his legs over the side, but before he could spring out of bed, a ball of fur rammed him in the chest. He grunted, winded for a moment.
“Stiles!”
Stiles ignored him and screeched excitedly into his ear, small paws scrabbling at Derek’s shoulder as he tried to climb up onto it. His snout was all up in Derek’s face, alternatively jabbing his nose in Derek’s eyes and gnawing on the collar of Derek’s shirt. Derek restrained himself from yanking the fox by the scruff of the neck and flinging him into a corner of the room even though it was too early for this level of hyperactivity. Instead, he tried to grab at the squirming fennec to at least toss him off the bed, but ended up getting paws and tail thwaps to the face for his efforts.
“Stiles! Calm down! Get off me!”
Stiles barked and in a blink, he was off Derek and bouncing around the bed, yelping and screeching as he rolled around, thumping his tail against the sheets and pillows as he went. He nipped at Derek’s hands when he tried to grab him again.
Derek slapped his hand against the mattress in frustration. Stiles lunged for it with a chirp.
“Stop it! Get out of my room!”
Derek didn’t know what to do. His ears were ringing from the screeching. Fennec foxes don't look like they could sound like something dying a horrible death. Derek had looked at Stiles and figured something so small couldn't possibly be too much to handle. Clearly, he was an idiot who'd been had, and should’ve done his research before going around and agreeing to housing packmates-turned-fennec-foxes. If he had, he wouldn't have to be dealing with this: Stiles raising unholy hell in his bedroom at quarter to 7 in the morning.
“Stiles! Calm down, you’re giving me a headache!”
With a loud yip, Stiles raced off the bed and back out into the living room, where Derek could hear him screaming as he bounded around and jumped off furniture. If he broke something, Derek was going to drop kick him out the door. Stiles could take his god-awful morning screeching into the forest and stay there for all Derek cared.
Derek flopped back down and reached for his phone, cringing when Stiles gave a particularly loud squeak. Someone needed to take Stiles out of his house right now.
It only took a few rings before Scott picked up.
“Derek? What’s wrong? It’s only like… almost 7am, dude,” Scott rasped groggily into the phone, sounding a mix of vaguely annoyed and slightly concerned.
“I am very aware,” Derek gritted, rubbing at his eyes. “But Stiles is not. Take him back, Scott. I’m not dealing with this.”
“What? ”
Derek sighed and held the phone out towards the doorway, where Stiles could be heard still screeching like the demon lovechild of a bat and a baby eagle. He kept it there for a few seconds before putting the phone back against his ear.
“Ah,” Scott said eloquently. “Have you tried... talking to him? Maybe he’ll get it if you tell him to keep it down. ”
Derek resisted the urge to throw his phone at the wall, drive to the McCall house, and do the same to Scott.
“You think I didn’t try that when he came barrelling into my room a while ago? He’s all over the place. I can’t get him to keep still,” Derek said. “How about you come over here and tell him? You’re the genius who decided to keep Stiles uninformed about the feral shifter in the first place.”
“I thought he would be safer —”
Derek growled as he cut him off.
“Uninformed, Scott. Stiles goes off haring on his own whether or not there’s something out there that could kill him. Had I known you didn’t tell him, I would have told him myself, because at least he would have been prepared. Now he’s a fennec fox who doesn’t know how to shift back.”
“Fine. I can come by later— ”
Later? Scott could shove ‘later’ down his own throat and get his ass out of bed. Derek wasn’t in a very forgiving mood right now.
“Now .”
“Derek,” Scott whined. Derek exhaled loudly and reminded himself that strangling his alpha would be frowned upon. Mostly by Kira. And Liam. Stiles would probably understand because Scott got him into this mess in the first place. “It’s way too early, come on! I swear I’ll come by later.”
“If you aren’t here when I get up again, I’m releasing him into the wild, and you can find him by yourself,” Derek said before hanging up. He lay in bed for a few moments, trying to keep his temper in check, before realising that the living room had gone quiet.
Derek sighed in relief and rolled over to go back to sleep, but the silence was making him paranoid. What was Stiles doing? Was he chewing on something he wasn’t supposed to? Did he take a shit somewhere he wasn’t supposed to?
Derek grumbled a curse into his pillow before heaving himself up and padding out to the living room.
Thankfully, nothing had been broken, but the throw pillows that were supposed to be on the couch and armchairs were scattered all over the place. One had a tear in it where the stuffing was beginning to poke through. And Stiles? Was nowhere to be seen.
Derek rubbed a hand over his face and sighed.
“Stiles?” he called out, walking over to the couch. “Stiles?”
There was a muffled yip, and when he looked down, he found Stiles tucked into the corner of the couch, curled up in a towel Derek remembered throwing into the laundry basket last night. Stiles whined and blinked up at Derek with his slanted, black eyes, the rest of his narrow snout covered by his tail. His comically large ears swivelled towards Derek before twitching away. Derek sighed.
“You’re a little shit, you know that?” Derek said, walking around to take a seat beside the fennec and relaxing back into the couch. He turned his head to look out the window and could see the beginnings of dawn peeking over the treetops. So much for sleeping in today.
Stiles gave a short bark before getting up, dragging the towel onto Derek’s lap, fussing with it for a few moments, before curling back up on top of it. Derek could feel the rumble of his contented churring.
Carefully, Derek laid a small hand on Stiles’ head, and when the churring increased, Derek started stroking the soft fur, rubbing gently behind Stiles’ ears and down his small body. Stiles shivered for a moment, before flattening his ears back and making small, pleased whines, burrowing his head further into his tail.
Derek huffed a laugh before leaning his head back and closing his eyes for a nap. Stiles would probably wake him up again when Scott arrived later.