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Of Cowcats and Quiznaks

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His first year of college is over and Stiles is staying with Derek for the summer. Melissa and his dad have just started dating and frequently spend time at each other’s houses, and he doesn’t want to walk in on anything he won’t be able to un-see. When Derek offered to share his loft for a few weeks, he couldn’t be more happy and literally jumped at the chance.

Over the past year, he and Derek have been growing increasingly closer to each other. They’re not in best friend territory yet, but to be honest Stiles doesn’t want them to be anyway. If he and Derek become more than just friends, he wants them to be more than friends, if you catch his drift.

He thinks Derek may be up for it too, if their tentative flirting recently has been anything to go by. Derek has been letting his guard down around him more and more, and seeing the man’s softer side makes Stiles want to wrap him in a blanket and squish.

He’s been crashing at the loft for almost two weeks when it happens for the first time. He’s cooking dinner, busy stirring the pots on the stove, when he hears his phone chime from the living room, signalling an incoming message. He asks Derek if he can pass him his phone and drops his wooden spoon when the man answers with:

“Just a tick!”

Stiles’ head shoots up, turning to look in the direction of the living room fast. “What did you just say?”

He doesn’t get a reaction, which kills him, because he could have sworn Derek just said –

“Hey sorry,” the man finally walks into the kitchen, offering Stiles his phone. “I was distracted.”

“With what?”

He isn’t sure, but Stiles could swear Derek’s ears turn red. “Just … looking into some stuff.”

Stiles narrows his eyes. “What kind of stuff?”

Derek’s definitely blushing now, but before Stiles can tease him about it his phone chimes again.

“You should probably answer that,” Derek coughs and escapes from both the room and Stiles’ suspicion.

He shrugs it off, going back to his cooking. He probably misheard it anyway.

 

- V -

 

The second time it happens, Stiles has just returned from a trip to the grocery store. He enters the loft, hands full, and calls out to Derek in a sing-song voice:

“Honey, I’m home!”

There’s a crash from the kitchen, and a mutter from Derek that sounds an awful lot like “quiznak”. Stiles’ eyes go wide, hope and excitement blooming in his chest at the thought of Derek watching his favourite show.

Closing the door, he speed walks into the kitchen, only to drop the groceries in alarm as soon as he rounds the corner and catches sight of the werewolf.

“Oh my God, is that blood?!

“I’m fine,” Derek grunts, holding his hand under the faucet’s running water. “Just nicked myself with a knife. I’ll live.”

“Are you sure?” he asks, fussing over Derek, ignoring his attempts to bat him away.

The man sighs and holds up his hand for Stiles’ inspection, rolling his eyes. “Already healed. See? I’m fine.”

Stiles nods, relieved, and finally starts putting away the groceries. He forgets to ask about Derek’s choice of curse words.

 

- V -

 

Stiles is visiting Scott at the animal clinic to hang out with a nest of kittens when Scott tells him that Derek is thinking about adopting one of the newborn cats.

He gasps, grinning like a loon. “What? He didn’t tell me that!”

He’d be angry about it, but the thought of Derek with one of the kittens is just too damn cute. “Which one does he want?”

Scott points to the chubby white one with the black spots and pink little nose that Stiles has been fondly calling ‘cowcat’ in his head. “That one. He even named it already – Kaltenecker or something.” Scott shrugs.

Stiles lets out a delighted laugh. “Oh my God, he didn’t.”

Scott nods, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, I know. It’s weird.”

He snorts. “No. No, it’s freaking genius, is what it is.” He looks at the cat dreamily. “I’m gonna date him so hard.”

Scott chokes on air, eyeing him in disturbance. “The cat?”

“What? No!” he laughs. “Derek, you idiot.”

Scott does not look reassured, but Stiles just grins because Derek watches Voltron. Derek watches Voltron and loves it.

“Trust me Scotty, we’re meant to be.”

 

- V -

 

Stiles has a plan. Or, well, the beginnings of a plan. To woo Derek. Because that is obviously a thing that needs to happen. He means to stealthily put on Netflix one night and ask Derek to watch something with him, wanting to see his reaction when he suggests watching Voltron, but he has to abandon the plan when Scott calls for back-up after running into two rogue omegas.

They rush out and forget all about Netflix, but Stiles gets another prime opportunity when they return to the loft with the rest of the pack. He doesn’t even need Netflix this time.

During the fight, one of the omegas managed to get his claws in Derek’s throat and throw him against a tree. He’d healed pretty quickly, but there was enough blood for Stiles to panic, abandoning the fight and rushing to the wolf’s side.

The fight had been over quickly though, the omegas dealt with, and they’d decided to wind down by having an impromptu pack night.

“That was some nice teamwork, guys,” Stiles holds open the door, smiling as the pack files into the loft.

Derek grins mischievously. “It was. Though I don’t remember you doing much.”

“I punched one of them,” he sputters, throwing up his hands. “I held your neck so it could heal!”

Derek snorts. “Yeah, and almost passed out from the blood.”

Stiles huffs, about to protest, but then has to swallow his laugh when he gets a better idea. Adopting his best imitation of an outrageous Keith, he says:

“We had a bonding moment! I cradled you in my arms!”

There’s a beat in which Derek really looks at him, then his lips twitch like he’s hiding a smile, the dork, and he shakes his head. “Nope, don’t remember, didn’t happen.”

They both crack up, snorting unattractively, but Stiles seriously couldn’t care less, and he just laughs louder when the rest of the pack voices their confusion.

“What the hell just happened?”

Neither of them elaborates, but they still share a smile. Oh yeah, they will be epic together.

 

- V -

 

“Shiro’s character just really resonates with me.”

Derek is sitting next to him on the couch in the loft’s living room after the pack has finally left for the night. The moment the door had closed behind them, Derek had opened Netflix again and put on the first episode of Voltron, without any prompting from Stiles.

Stiles is both proud and incredibly fond, and he’s pretty sure it shows on his face. He doesn’t even care. He turns his body to face Derek’s and raises an eyebrow.

“Uh, hate to break it to you, but you’re definitely more of a Keith, buddy.”

Derek scowls. “No I’m not.”

He grins. “That’s exactly how Keith would have said it.”

The wolf lets out an aggravated sigh. “Right. So I guess you’re Pidge then, right?”

“No! What?!” he sputters. “Why would you even say that?”

Derek hums. “Well, you’re both too smart for your own good, ridiculously impulsive when it comes to saving the people you care about, –”

Huh, that’s actually kind of sweet –

“ – but mostly you both breathe snark and sarcasm, and are annoying little shits.”

Stiles glares to hide the fact that he’s squealing inside. “Don’t insult my badass little cheeky child. And while that assessment wasn’t wrong exactly, I’m clearly a Lance.”

Derek’s eyebrow rises as if it’s daring him to explain that one. Challenge accepted.

“Lance is the comic relief, but deceptively useful in a fight. More importantly, he annoys the crap out of Keith, they bicker constantly and pretend not to get along at all, but when it comes down to it they’re a great team. That’s literally us in a nutshell!”

Derek rolls his eyes. “Of course you’d be a Klance shipper.”

Stiles wouldn’t be able to contain his grin to save his own life. “I can’t believe you just said Klance with a straight face.”

He is seriously going to date the hell out of this man.

“Also I think Keith and Lance make a pretty good pair.”

Derek’s lips twitch. Stiles counts it as a win. “Do you now?”

“Hmhm.” He nods. “There’s a reason I ship them.”

Derek licks his lips, turning towards him. “And what would that be?”

Stiles grins, flitting his eyes between Derek’s eyes and his lips. “It’s a bit hard to put into words.”

Derek’s definitely smiling now. “Then maybe you should show me.”

He’d make a witty comeback, but Derek’s lips are on his and everything else just kind of … disappears.

 

- V -

 

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into adopting another cat.”

Derek’s eyes follow the two balls of fluff racing across his loft. His face looks like it can’t decide between frustration and fondness. Stiles kind of sees that face a lot.

He grabs his boyfriend’s face and squishes his cheeks gently. “Ahw, my precious emo mullet boy.”

Derek rolls his eyes. “I don’t have a mullet.”

Stiles’ expression is dead serious. “You could grow one. You’d totally get away with it.” He strokes some hair from Derek’s forehead affectionately. “Also I love how you didn’t deny the rest of that description.”

“Hm, I don’t know. I still think I’m more of a Space Dad.”

“Agree to disagree.” He punctuates it with a kiss, just because he can. “But you can be my space daddy anytime.” He winks.

Derek snorts, foregoing words in favour of more kissing, making Stiles laugh when he adds a teasing butt grab.

They pull back eventually and find Kaltenecker and his sister under the table, cuddled up together and looking sleepy. Stiles coos.

“Have you decided on a name yet?” Derek leads them over to the couch, sitting down in front of it instead of on it, reaching out to tickle the nameless kitten with one of his fingers.

“Definitely Voltron related. Obviously.”

Derek laughs, rolling his eyes. “Obviously.”

Stiles hums, burying into his boyfriend’s side. “We could name it Space Cat. Or Clawlura. Or Pawtron. Pawladin. Alfur, Purrlivan, Veronicat. Ooh, what about Meowmora?”

Derek laughs, tilting his head back for a kiss. “Please stop.” Another kiss.

“What do you wanna do instead?”

Derek leans back, fighting a smile. “Wanna quiznak?”

Stiles bursts into laughter, leaning his head on Derek’s shoulder and squeezing him tight. He looks up.

“Seriously. Date you. So hard.”

“Purrfect.”

 

END.