Pre-established sterek, just saying.

Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf

F is for Feline Catastrophe

When Derek first heard the mewling of kittens, he thought nothing of it. There were always cats making homes on the roof of his apartment, mating and producing little balls of helpless fur. Helpless balls of fur that he liked cuddling and batting balls of yarn at, but no one needed to know those particular details.

So when the knock came, that oh so familiar three tap than answering two, and the mewling hadn't stopped, his eyebrows drew together in confusion. "Stiles, what the hell-" he began, glaring at the teen as he threw the door open. His words fell away as his eyebrows jumped high, eyes scanning over Stiles who held a box larger than his torso. "What the hell is this?"

Now he knew where the mewling had come from. He could smell the warm scent of milk and baby skin.

"I've brought you the gift of kittens!" Stiles said brightly, grinning from ear to ear.

Derek stared at the box, eyebrows still high. "Stiles, I'm a werewolf. Cats don't like wolves. Or any kind of dog for that matter."

Stiles scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Dude, I have never met a cat that doesn't like you. You're like a pussy magnet, it's ridiculous."

Rubbing his forehead, Derek sighed, "Never use that phrase again."

"Only if you take these kittens."

It was Derek's turn to roll his eyes. "How many are there? Where's their mother?"

"I found them on the side of the road. I think their mother got ran over." Frowning, Stiles looked down into the box, his soft mouth counting silently until he lips pursed. He released a long whistle. "That's a huge litter. I think there's about fourteen. I may have missed a few. They're pretty small, and their eyes are still a little blue."

Derek gaped at him. "No, Stiles, I am not an animal shelter. You take them home."

"Well…" Stiles trailed off, "You see, I tried that, but…"

Stiles shoved the box of kittens quickly beneath his desk, pressing his chair in front of it as he heard the ascension of his father up the stairs, accented by a sneeze every few seconds and the clap of his books on the wood. "Stiles, do you have any allergy medication? I can't find mine, and I can't stop sneezing."

"Ah, no, I don't have any," Stiles said as casually as possible, reclining in his swivel chair, avoiding eye-contact with the Sheriff. "I have no idea why your allergies are acting up. Maybe it's something in the air. Maybe it's something in the house. You could be allergic to Derek, you know, wolf and all. He has been here quite a lot lately. That could be it," Stiles spewed, unable to turn off the water faucet of words.

Sighing, the Sheriff stepped into the room, looking menacing even as he sneezed so hard he skewed his badge. "Stiles, what are you hiding?"

"Hiding?" Stiles laughed, "I'm not hiding anything." Behind him, the box of kittens decided that was the supreme moment to raise cane, mewling loudly. His eyes grew wide.

"Get rid of them," Sheriff Stilinski ordered without preamble, turning towards the door, "You know how allergic I am to cats." Just as he was turning the corner, he stopped, backing up and pivoting towards Stiles once more. "What do you mean Derek has been here a lot? He's only been here twice in the past two months."

Eyes growing wider than they already were, lips forming a round 'O', Stiles realized his mistake. "Well, you see, funny story…"

Throwing up a hand, the Sheriff shook his head. "I don't want to hear it, I've got to get to work." He glared at Stiles sternly. "But when I get back from my shift, we are having a long talk about who is allowed in the house and safety. Don't even think about running off to cry to Scott, you're grounded."

"That didn't work out too well. And it seems I sort of, accidentally came out to him," Stiles finished slowly, nodding with pursed lips, "And inadvertently told him that we're screwing."

Derek was rubbing his brow, trying to decide whether Stiles' dad would come after him with guns ablaze. The possibility was uncomfortably high. "Scott, then, take them to Scott."

"That didn't work out either…"

"Stiles, what am I supposed to do with fourteen kittens? I can't hide them from my mom!" Scott whispered seriously, staring down into the box full of hissing fur, "They don't even like me!"

"It'll just be for a little while, until I can find someone to take them," Stiles whispered back, sliding the box into his best friend's closet.

As Stiles was flopping back on Scott's bed, Melissa knocked quietly on the door, poking her head into the room. "Hey, Stiles, keeping my son out of trouble?" she asked.

"Always," Stiles replied, grinning widely. Scott glared pointedly as his best friend, but said nothing.

"I was just wondering if you guys heard the hissing. I'm worried it might be the gas line, but I don't smell anything," she said, looking to Scott with questioning eyes.

Scott, looking guilty as ever, shook his head. "I don't smell anything, or hear anything, maybe you're just hearing things," he muttered unconvincingly, not looking Melissa in the eye.

Pursing her lips, Melissa stepped into the room. "Really? Are you sure about that? I hear it especially loud in here. I also heard mewling earlier. You two couldn't possibly know what that was about?"

"No! Absolutely not! I don't hear anything!" Scott said quickly, too quickly.

Blinking slowly at the pair, Melissa pushed open Scott's closet door. The kittens meowed up at her, pawing at the sides of the box. "Scott, you can't keep them here. I'm allergic to cat's and they obviously dislike you."

Scott stared at her, eyebrows pulled together, eyes narrowed, mouth slightly open. "Mom, you're not allergic to cat's. You never have been."

Melissa glared at him. "You can't keep them here."

"I even tried to go to Danny!" Stiles cried.

"What do you want, Stiles?" Danny asked, his tone far from amused and not in the mood for anyone's shit at the moment, least of all the teen that always seemed to get himself into some kind of trouble. He looked haggard and just about ready to pass out.

Stiles glanced over Danny raising an eyebrow. "Danny, dude, you look like shit. I thought gay guys were always supposed to look fabulous no matter what the circumstances."

"Yes, thank you for that assessment. Obviously, that doesn't explain you. Once you come out of that closet, we'll restock it with a better wardrobe. What do you want?" he quipped, ready to slam the door in Stiles face.

Instead of shooting back with another comment, Stiles frowned. "Is it because Ethan's gone?" Danny, releasing a frustrated breath, began to close the door. Stiles stuck his foot in the crack. "No, wait! I really did come here to ask you something." When Danny only opened the door to its original amount, Stiles swallowed a sigh. "Can you take these kittens for a couple days?"

Danny finally noticed the box in Stiles arms. "No," he said simply, not even glancing at them because he knew he wouldn't be able to say no when faced with Stiles' puppy dog eyes and the innocent faces of those balls of fur.

"Come on, Danny, they're cute, and it would only be for a few days," Stiles pleaded.

"Bye, Stiles," Danny muttered. Before closing the door, he said, "When they're litter trained and eat hard food I'll take one off your hands, but not until then." With that, he closed the door in Stiles' beaming face.

"Take them to Deaton, your coach, Malia, Argent, Isaac, Ethan, Kira, Lydia!" Derek shouted. He turned, storming into his living room. "Anyone!"

"They all said no!" Stiles cried, following after him, kicking the door shit. "You're their last hope for being saved from euthanasia!"

Snarling under his breath, Derek turned back to Stiles, glaring down into the box. All fourteen kittens were small than even Lydia's closed fist. They all blinked up at him with blurry eyes, mewls slipping from their slightly open mouths. Pitiful was the first word that came to Derek's mind, followed quickly by adorable.

"I swear to all of the gods, if you make my home into a cat farm, I will kill you," Derek threatened as he took the box with surprising gentleness, setting it on the couch. He disappeared into his bedroom and reappeared to spread a blanket across the floor before setting the kittens down on it one by one. They crowded around him, pawing unsteadily at him.

Stiles grinned widely, dropping down beside him. "You're a life saver!" he shouted, grinning as a pure black kitten tapped playfully at his fingers on unsteady paws. "Literally."

"Whatever," Derek muttered, searching his phone for the closest place to buy kitten formula.

…..

Stiles, Derek and Scott had their backs pressed against a storage room door, bracing their feet against the close walls. The door jumped beneath their hands as the dragon slammed against the metal.

"So, how are our children doing?" Stiles grunted, grinning widely at Derek.

Derek, eyes squeezed shut and jaw clenched, snarled, "Not the time, Stiles."

"It's always the time for our children," Stiles gasped, a quiet whimper slipping between his teeth as the dragon drew a jagged claw down the door, "And anyway, it seems like we're going to be here a while, so it's as good a time as any."

Scott nearly lost his footing on the wall, sliding down a few inches. "What?! You two adopted kids? You're together? When was I going to find out?" he asked, staring at the pair with wide, hurt eyes.

"We're not together!" Derek snapped like someone had asked him the same question one too many times, "He's talking about the fourteen kittens that you wouldn't take!" He shot Scott a poisonous look.

Scott threw his hands up in defense. "My mom said we couldn't keep them! I still don't understand why because she's not allergic to cats like she said she is. And cats hate me anyway."

Stiles glowered silently at the kitten mama who he was seriously considering dropping to the floor at the moment. Screw the dragon, Derek had committed a grave offense. He didn't understand why he still insisted on pretending that they weren't together. Sure, Scott didn't know, but that was because Scott was denser than the sand at the bottom of the ocean. The rest of the pack had figured it out at least three full moons ago when Derek had turned up the next morning smelling only of Stiles and covered with hickeys, and Stiles had turned up with a limp. The kittens had come only a few months after that, and it was starting to piss him off.

As if sensing the slowly evolving murderous glare, Derek sighed. "They're fine. They are the size of dogs and they eat like they have black holes for stomachs."

A grin split Stiles' lips, most of his anger fading into the background. The prickle of annoyance still remained in the tightness of his facial muscles. "Dude, that's awesome. I picked up a box of Maine Coons."

Derek rolled his eyes, shoving back harder on the door, the handle digging into his back. "They cry for you at night when you're not there. You know it's been two weeks since they've seen you."

"Aw, my children miss their father," Stiles cooed through another grunt. He shrugged his shoulders. "I was going to crash at your place after we finished up with this anyway. I need to unwind." Their eyes locked, Derek's flashing blue and Stiles' dancing with mischief.

Scott broke them from their silence as he whispered, "I think it's gone."

Dropping to the floor, Derek cautiously pulled the door open an inch. A column of fire seared inches away from his face. "Not gone!" Stiles yelped. It took the trio less than a second to resume their previous positions.

…..

"What do you need with Stiles right now anyway?" Scott yawned as he let himself and Lydia into Derek's apartment. It was just past 5:30 a.m., the sun barely cresting the hills, but that didn't seem to deter Lydia-the-incredibly-early-riser. It wasn't even a school day.

Lydia pursed her red lips, analytically surveying the cat toys strewn across Derek's living room, all nearly torn to shreds. "Stiles is helping me research something. He was supposed to help me last night, but you guys were screwing around with a dragon you still haven't caught yet." She twirled a strand of strawberry blonde hair around her finger, unconcerned.

They moved on towards the bedroom, Scott yawning again. "Can't this wait? The sun is still rising."

"No," she replied matter-of-factly, pushing the door open with the tips of her fingers. Scott hadn't even gotten a glimpse of the room, but she'd already taken a picture. "Oh, they are never going to live this down. This is going to be blackmail for years."

"What are you talking about?" Scott asked, poking his head around the door. His jaw dropped to the floor. "But they told me they weren't together yesterday!"

Sprawled out on Derek's king-sized mattress were Derek, Stiles and fourteen cats. Derek lay on his back, one arm wrapped around Stiles waist and the other pressing Stiles' arm to his chest. Stiles was on his stomach, head resting on Derek's shoulder and arm tossed haphazardly across Derek's chest. The sheets had pooled around their hips, just barely containing their dignity.

Scattered around and on them were thirteen cats of varying colors and patterns, and all were the size of medium-sized dogs. At least half of them lay across Derek and Stiles' legs while the rest were shoved into every bodily crevice they could find.

Lydia snapped her eyes to Scott. "Really? And you believed them?" she questioned all too sarcastically.

"Why wouldn't I? Stiles is my best friend," Scott asked innocently. Before she could reply with the most snarky response she possessed, he frowned, staring at the bed. "Weren't there fourteen kittens?"

As the words left his mouth, a black streak tore across the room and catapulted onto Derek and Stiles. They woke with a gasp and a yell. "Nyx!"

So, the new season of Teen Wolf starts Monday and I cannot wait! This was something for fun, and I've already got a second one-shot in mind for this if you guys are at all interested in this becoming a two-shot. Hope y'all liked it.