Guardian's Vigil

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Oct 9

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This one is for Ro, who wanted fluffy Sciles with catboy!Stiles and a collar and leash… I regret not having the scene where Scott puts the collar on.

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Scott clicked the front door shut, treading lightly as he tuned his hearing toward the inside of the apartment. He could hear a heartbeat and relaxed a little. Though he couldn’t pinpoint exactly where it was, he knew at least Stiles hadn’t gotten out. Things were already a mess, they definitely didn’t need an escapee on their hands.

“Stiles?” he called softly, not wanting to startle him. “It’s Scott. I know you’re here.”

A low, deep growl sounded from the direction of the bedroom, and Scott rolled his eyes, tightening his grip on the objects in his hands just a little. When he had left two hours ago, Stiles had been hiding under the bed and it looked like he hadn’t moved at all since. Scott wasn’t sure how he was going to get him out without having to tip over the bed. He didn’t want to tip over the bed; it was new. He also didn’t want a face full of two-inch, sickle claws in his face, so there were decisions to be made.

Poking his head around the corner of the door frame, he scanned the room quickly. “Stiles?” he said hopefully, like maybe Stiles would be sitting in plain sight if he wished hard enough.

Another slow, angry growl emanated from under the bed.

With a sigh, Scott moved into the room, closing the door and giving the edge of the bed plenty of space to avoid having his feet swiped out from under him as he walked. “You can’t stay under there, Stiles,” he admonished, plopping down across from the bed. He could just barely see the tip of a tail twitching in the darkness. “Get out here.”

For a moment, Scott thought he was going to have to go in after him, but then the soft sound of fur on carpet dragged out, and a tawny face appeared. Scott relaxed a little and held out his hands to show he meant no harm. Stiles eyed him, and then the two objects he’d set on the floor beside him. Scott looked over as well, and sighed. He’d known Stiles wasn’t going to take kindly to seeing the leash and collar.

“I can’t take you out in public without them,” he said.

“Fuck you,” Stiles said, though it came out garbled through his feline features. His over-sized ears were pressed flat to his skull and Scott could hear his tail swishing.

Scott groaned, exasperated. “Come on, we’ve been working on this for the past two days straight, give us a break. Deaton wants to see you tomorrow morning to see what he can do. We’re lucky you’re even a cat I can take into the vet in the daylight.”

Stretching his paws into the light of the room, Stiles asked: “So you found out what kind?”

“Deaton thinks serval. It’s an African cat,” Scott said. “It’s funny, because the word means ‘wolf-deer.’ Get it? You’re a cat, but you’re still a wolf-”

“I’m glad you find my predicament amusing,” Stiles said acidly, interrupting. “Did you find anything useful? Like how to change me back?”

“Uh, not yet,” Scott told him. “On the bright side, you’re really fluffy.”

Scott only just managed to dodge as Stiles surged out from under the bed, spotted, tawny coat rippling. His sickle claws sunk into the carpet where Scott had just been sitting. Scott lay on the floor a couple of feet away, laughing as Stiles turned on him again. “That’s not a bright side,” Stiles snarled, though it held no heat. “I don’t want to be fluffy, I want to be human.”

Inching closer by flexing his shoulder blades, Scott scooted over to where Stiles had lain down on the carpet. His tail was still lashing, ears still pressed back, but he was relaxed. Reaching out, Scott smoothed a hand over Stiles’ head, curling his fingers around the base of one of his overlarge ears, following the line of his jaw. Stiles lifted his chin, giving him access, amber eyes closing.

“What are…. oh….” Whatever question he had degenerated into a pleased noise, rumbling its way down into a purr. A very loud, somewhat terrifying purr, but Scott smiled anyway because it was the first time he’d heard it.

“Can’t be all bad,” Scott said soothingly. Stiles didn’t bother opening his eyes, just pressed into the touch, wriggling a little closer.

“I’ll give you an hour to stop,” Stiles told him, crawling up so that his front paws rested on Scott’s chest. Smiling, Scott lifted his other hand, bringing it up to bury his fingers in the soft ruff of fur around Stiles’ shoulders, and got a face full of whiskers and sandpaper tongue for his effort. With a laugh, he shoved Stiles off of him and managed to clamber onto the bed before Stiles realized what happened.

He patted the space beside him on the edge of the bed. “Come on. We’ll get up early and fix this, so how about you sleep on top of the bed tonight?”

Once again, Stiles’ ears laid flat. “I wasn’t exactly… myself last night.”

Scott sighed. “You have better control today. Maybe it’s temporary and it’ll go away on its own.” He pulled his feet up, kicking off his shoes, and scooted to the far side of the bed. After a moment, Stiles crouched and then sprung up onto the edge of the bed, pawing at the covers until he could get underneath them. Scott let him, then joined him, snaking an arm around Stiles’ slinky waist and dragging him over until they could curl up together.

“This is weird,” Stiles groused, but he squirmed around until he was comfortable.

“Shut up,” Scott said with a smile. “Our whole lives are weird.”

“This is really weird,” Stiles told him.

“It’s not that weird,” Scott argued, burying his nose in Stiles’ shoulder. It was warm and soft and fluffy. Stiles sighed, turning his head so he could put his chin on the top of Scott’s head, and then he closed his eyes as well. When Scott spoke again, it was soft, muffled by Stiles’ spotty fur. “I promise I’m going to fix this, Stiles. No matter what.”

Sighing, Stiles let himself relax and trust in Scott. Of course they would fix this. They always fixed it, they always found a way to save themselves, or to save the others. Except that it was Stiles this time, this would be no different.

When the palm of Scott’s hand started up a slow, steady rhythm on his belly, Stiles began to purr again.

Maybe being a cat wasn’t all bad.