”It’s not funny!” Stiles barks. Literally. Because he’s currently a dog. And no one understands him. Not that anyone cares what he’s saying either, because both his dad and Derek are too busy laughing their asses off. Granted, if it happened to anyone but him, Stiles would be super amused too, but shoe on the other foot and all that.
”Oh, god, look at those ears!” John hiccups, and Stiles makes a pathetic little growl at him. He knows his ears are ridiculous. One is standing up and the other is flopping down. What’s even up with that? What could possibly be the point? Mother nature needs to step up her game.
He snaps at Derek’s hand as it reaches out to pet the ears in question, but only gets another laugh for his trouble. ”Come on, Stiles, don’t be like that.”
Stiles will definitely be like that if he damn well wants to. And Derek can keep his hands off the ears, thank you very much. Because it’s not nice when people touch them. At all! He definitely does not jiggle his hind leg when someone scratches them just so. Nope, nope, nope.
John finally manages to contain himself, and wipes his eyes with his handkerchief. ”Christ, son, how many times…”
”I wasn’t on purpose!” Stiles protests in indignant yips. And it wasn’t. He’d warned the pack himself repeatedly not to touch the damn amulet, only to fumble the shielded bag like an idiot, and have it slide out to touch his skin. As temporary and generally harmless as the curse is, it’s still massively inconvenient, and utterly irreversible. Whoever touches the amulet is stuck as whatever random animal the amulet turns them into until the next sunrise. Which in Stiles’ case is evidently a puppy. Not even an adult dog. A puppy.
Fuck his life.
And because Derek is an asshole, instead of being nice to his boyfriend and letting him hide in bed for the day… he’d called Stiles’ dad to laugh at his misfortune. Revenge would be sweet. Maybe he should start by chewing up some shoes. Except, maybe not, because ew.
”Maybe we should call the rest of the pack and see what they say,” Stiles’ dad suggests, and okay, Stiles knows when he’s beat. He stops making a fuss, and hangs his head in every indication of shame. He knows he’s been a little shit, and frankly, even if he wasn’t aware, he’d probably do anything to avoid certain people seeing him like this. His dad and Derek at least won’t openly mock him. Much.
”No, I think he’s learned his lesson,” Derek says, and of fucking course manages to scratch that one perfect spot. He laughs softly as Stiles’ leg starts shaking, and Stiles would like to crawl under a rock now, please. ”You have learned your lesson, right?”
Stiles nods as hugely as he can, and whines in a bid for extra sympathy points.
”If you believe that for even a moment, you’re a bigger love fool than I thought, Hale,” Stiles’ dad says, but he’s smiling, so it’s probably not a bad sign.
”I don’t have to believe him to love him,” Derek says softly, and wow, okay, things suddenly got unexpectedly emotional.
”Good point. Well, I gotta get back to work. No peeing on the carpet!” John warns with a goddamn smirk, and Stiles growls until the door closes behind him.
”So. Netflix?” Derek suggests, sitting down on the couch, and patting the cushion next to him. Stiles doesn’t think he’s ever loved Derek more. At least right up until the moment he realizes what a different experience Breaking Bad is in dog vision. Oh well. The black and white just makes for a grittier experience.