Per usual, it’s all Stiles’ fault.
But, as his dad kindly pointed out, who would think that a kettle would end up turning someone into a cat? What kind of witch curses a fucking kettle?
If Stiles could speak, he would have yelled out ‘a crazy one!’, but as it is he only hisses and sinks his claws – ugh – into the surprisingly comfy sofa cushion, pointedly avoiding the glare Derek throws his way.
“I’m sorry!” The crazy witch says for the tenth time. “I wanted to make water boil quicker, but I think I must have read the wrong spell.”
‘You think?’ Stiles hisses, but is completely ignored.
Scott collapses on the couch next to him, drops a hand over the fluffy fur that now covers his head and scratches it softly.
Later, Stiles will be angry with himself for giving in and purring, but for now it just feels too damn good to care.
“So what do we do?” Scott says. “How do we reverse it?”
Crazy witch gives them a guilty smile and Derek groans. “You don’t know?”
“I’m sorry!” She exclaims again. “I’m going to call my mom tomorrow morning, I swear!”
“Tomorrow?” Scott groans, holding Stiles’ back so he won’t jump on the woman and claw her eyes out. “Easy, kitty, she’s – ouch! He bit me!”
Stiles jumps out of Scott’s hold, huffing. Kitty, ugh.
“What are we gonna do with him until then?” Derek asks, arms crossed over his chest.
That’s what annoyed must smell like, Stiles figures as he gets close to Derek. It’s nice, being able to smell him, but that must be only because Derek just took a shower, even though Derek sweaty and dirty is something Stiles is weirdly attracted to, he probably won’t smell as good like that.
Although, he sniffs Derek’s leg, barely stops himself from rubbing his entire face over it, Derek must smell good in any way. For Stiles, at least.
The loft is silent, suspiciously so, and when Stiles glances up, he notices they are all staring at him, Scott and the witch both with amused looks on their faces.
As Stiles runs to hide under a chair, he wonders if cats are able to blush.