Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/789183.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Choose_Not_To_Use_Archive_Warnings, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Derek_Hale/Stiles_Stilinski
  Character:
      Derek_Hale, Stiles_Stilinski, Sheriff_Stilinski, Scott_McCall
  Additional Tags:
      kind_of_making_shit_up_as_I_go, other_characters_will_appear_I'm_sure,
      possibly_a_brief_OC, no_stupid_gary_stu_or_mary_sue, will_live_up_to
      explicit_rating_later_on, Stiles_is_barely_underage, Alternate_Universe_-
      Canon_Divergence, will_probably_have_knotting_later_on, will_change_tags
      as_I_go, Slow_Build, Derek_is_tired_of_these_motherfucking_witches_and
      their_motherfucking_curses
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-05-08 Chapters: 2/? Words: 3337
****** Dog Days ******
by GigaCat
Summary
     Cursed to the form of a simple dog, Derek must find a way to break it
     or else he'll remain that way forever.
     Fate crosses his path with Stiles Stilinski.
Notes
     Okay, so. I'm working on this story as I go. I have parts written
     out, but piecing them together is a long work in progress. I'll be
     gauging reader reaction/feedback as I go.
     This will be a slight AU canon divergence in that people do know
     about the Hales and the fire, but the main group never met him. Scott
     is not a werewolf (yet; I am undecided if he will become one later or
     not). Ergo, no kanima or anything. Derek is an Alpha.
     The story will start out more within maybe the 'teen' category, but
     I've rated it explicit for later chapters. Just FYI. Do not expect
     dirty-hot-porn right away. Slow build ahoy!
     I will not have a set update schedule, but my goal is to have at
     least one chapter a week.
     Sooo yeah... Here we go!
See the end of the work for more notes
***** Prologue *****
Derek stands defensively on the partially wrecked porch of his house, or what
remains of it, and stares down the old woman tottering towards him. She smells
like a witch, like ozone and incense and moss, a cloying mess that she hasn't
even tried to hide with a charm. She also carries the smell of blood. She looks
like she could be on a postcard next Santa Claus, with her neat, snowy white
hair, rounded face and plump frame. Her smile is saccharine, the very thing
that deceives people perfectly.
Derek knows better. His wolf is already rankled by someone being on his
territory, let alone that someone being a witch.
"This is private property," he informs her flatly.
She comes to stop at the end of the stairs and peers up at him through her
circle-framed glasses, mouth forming a curious o-shape briefly. "I wasn't
aware," she replies with an out-of-breath chuckle. The way she shifts her
weight to one side informs Derek she's injured somewhere under the long cloak
she wears. "There's going to be a dreadful storm and I've been wounded, I had
hoped to find shelter..."
Derek's brows raise, unimpressed with her charade. "Town's that way."
She blinks, brows knitting. Troubled. "I don't know these woods very well, you
see, I-"
"Witches-," Derek cuts in sharply, taking a step down closer to her, eyes
flashing a vivid shade of crimson, "-are not welcome in my territory." Her
expression promptly changes to something hardened, fierce, maybe even a little
terrifying to someone else. A harsh crash of thunder rips through the sky and
the scent of impending rain thickens.
The old woman's eyes narrow and they downright pierce into Derek, unsettling
his wolf even more. It's growling and snarling and snapping right under the
surface. "Have you no trust? No heart?"
Derek takes another step and she backs away as he flashes his teeth at her,
fangs elongating slowly. "Leave."
The witch lets out a haggard breath and she scowls, right until her expression
turns to something like pity as her gaze flicks over the remains of the house.
She ignores the growl Derek now lets bubble free from his throat, and when she
looks back, she knows.
They stand across from each other and several long moments pass. Derek grows
more aggressive, wants this person gone from his territory. The witch looks
short of tears with the amount of compunction in her expression.
"You have no pack," she observes, knowing how much it cuts. "No family. You are
an Alpha with nothing and yet you do not welcome the chance for companionship."
Derek's hands curl and claws replace his nails. His eyes turn red and stay red,
his feet stand wider apart and he crouches; how dare this stranger come onto
his land-
Before Derek can let out a guttural roar, the old woman holds her hand out and
the sound dies halfway up Derek's throat. He tries to move but falls instead,
numbness washing over him, blood pounding in his ears so that he can barely
hear her muttered incantation. He twists and spasms, pain rushing him and his
wolf whimpers and whines, scrabbling for purchase anywhere. It's too late
though. The pain blooming and bursting behind his eyes turns into a migraine
and black washes over his vision, the final sound he hears being that of the
sky letting out another ominous bellow.
***** When Worlds Collide *****
Chapter Notes
     Just an FYI on mention of Derek's eye color -- I went with the theory
     that since he was cursed to look like an average (if albeit wolfy-
     looking) dog, his eye color would change too. Hence why no red eyes.
     Oh yeah, did I mention all of this is going to be from Stiles' POV?
See the end of the chapter for more notes
"Might wanna let your mom know you're staying over tonight." Stiles glances up
at the starless sky before looking back at the road. It's Friday and Allison is
out with Lydia, which means Scott's free to have a game night with Stiles. They
just got out of the store for a snack run, in fact, and are heading back to
Stiles' place, trying to beat the storm.
"Yeah," Scott agrees, digging out his cellphone to send his mom a text. "So
which game are we gonna hit first?"
They go on to debate the merits of Left 4 Dead over Call of Duty over Halo,
when the sky finally opens up and the rain hits. When it storms in Beacon
Hills, it storms. Which means by the time they get to Stiles' house, the street
is going to look like a lake. They're still a ways from home, so Stiles' throws
on the windshield wipers as fast as they'll go and he backs off just a little
on the speed. The debate over zombies versus terrorists versus flood continues,
all thoughts of school left back at said school grounds.
Scott is about to suggest they flip a coin or play rock, paper, scissors for
the decision, because they're secretly five years old, when Stiles glances down
just long enough to locate his energy drink.
It's already hard to see out the windows, but he sees a black blur of something
and startles, hand jerking because he's Stiles, and Scott braces himself back
in shock. They hear a distinct plunk against the very edge of Scott's side of
the car followed by a high-pitched yip and Stiles' heart sinks. He slows down
as gradually yet swiftly as possible and pulls to the side of the road. "Oh my
god, please be a bunny."
They both turn in their seats to try and see out the back window and, sure
enough, there's a large furry lump laying on the side of the road.
"Oh my god," Stiles whimpers, scrambling to get his seatbelt undone.
"Dude, it's pouring out there, I can't see.... I think it might just be
stunned," Scott reasons, frowning a little because he works at a vet clinic;
he's got a bleeding heart for animals too. Rain or not.
Stiles isn't having guesses here. He puts his hood up over his head and gets
out despite the onslaught of rain, Scott following. They rush over to get a
better look at the dog they hit and Jesus, it kind of looks too big to be an
average dog. "Holy shit, tell me I didn't hit a wolf. I didn't think wolves
were here in California!"
"I don't think it is," Scott shouts back over the rainfall. "I think it's just
a really big dog." He kneels down carefully, just in case the thing jumps up
and starts snapping. He feels over the dog's body. Stiles thinks he's probably
trying to discern a broken or dislocated bone. A wet whimper just barely drifts
out of it. "It's still alive. Come on, help me out."
Together, they carefully lug the dog into the back of Stiles' Jeep and scramble
back inside for shelter, even though they're both soaked now. Stiles looks
horrified, glancing back at the poor thing before he puts his seatbelt back on.
"Deaton's?"
Scott nods.
When they get to the vet clinic and bring the dog inside, Scott finds a muzzle
to fix on it for safety precautions, then they start to dry it –- him -- off.
"He's got a collar," Scott declares when his fingers hit a leather collar
buried under all that wet hair.
Stiles whimpers. "Tell me I didn't just permanently disable someone's pet,
Scott."
"I think he'll be alright." Scott makes a face.
"What?"
"'Derek'," Scott reads off the tag. "That's all his tag says. What kind of name
for a dog is Derek?"
Stiles blinks a few times, as bemused as his friend is, but he continues to
buff the backside of the dog dry with a towel. "A really fucking weird one.
Seriously, there's no address or anything?"
"No. I'll see if he's got a microchip." Scott trots off and comes back a few
minutes later with the handheld device, runs it all along the dog's back and
flank. He frowns again, shaking his head. "Nothing. We'll have to put him up on
the board as a missing dog, someone's gotta be looking for him."
They toss the towels in the laundry bin and, together, they get Derek into a
holding cage for the time being. Scott scrawls out a note for Deaton and sticks
it to the office door, then shrugs at Stiles. "That's all we can do for now.
Don't worry about it too much man, pretty sure he just got a hell of a
headache. Maybe bruised, but we won't know till he wakes up."
Stiles nods, running his hand over his buzzed hair. He still feels pretty
goddamn shitty. He'd feel less shitty if it had been a rabbit or a squirrel or
something. "Yeah... Come on, I'm gettin' cold."
They head outside and jump into Stiles' Jeep, and Stiles takes Scott back to
his place for gaming. Energy drinks, junk food, and violent video games help
him ignore his guilt.
 
Scott and Stiles go back to Deaton's the next morning to check on Derek. Deaton
never called Scott when, rightfully, he should have, what with the new canine
in the holding cage. Plus Scott's note on his office door. Neither of them are
sure why Deaton doesn't call, but it's probably because he's expecting them to
show up anyway.
Which is evident in the way Deaton smiles at them in that subtle way of his;
he's currently overseeing vaccine supplies. "Good morning, boys."
"Morning," Scott greets back.
"Is he alright?" Stiles blurts out, more concerned than anything.
Deaton's smile grows more fond and a little something else that neither can
identify. "By 'he' I'm going to assume the dog in the note. Derek?"
Stiles nods rapidly. "He's not brain damaged or anything, right?"
"No, he's fine. He doesn't like to be handled much, but I was able to examine
him." Deaton finishes counting one shelf filled with ampules, writes down a
number, and moves on to another. "I would have thought he'd be more injured,
actually, but he's just a little tender on the right flank and there's a little
bit of swelling on his head. Seems to be fine though. He's drowsy right now
from the painkillers. You can go back and see him if you like."
Stiles relaxes and nods, smiling finally, as does Scott. "Thanks, Doc."
They head back into the room where Derek is and they find him curled up at the
back of the cage, head on his paws. His eyes are open and are a startling shade
of green. It's really pretty shocking against the stark black of his fur. Derek
watches them without moving his head, his blinking somewhat sluggish. There's a
wide swelling above his left brow, about the size of a golf ball, but it looks
better than expected.
Scott smiles. "Hey there, boy. You do look a lot better now."
Stiles crouches down to look at him better. "I'm so frickin' glad you're not
road kill, buddy."
Derek lets out a low, steady growl.
Stiles makes a face. "Aww, don't be sore at me. I didn't see you with all that
rain goin' on."
"I wonder what breed he is," Scott muses offhandedly, brows beetling though his
smile remains. "He looks like a hybrid."
"He looks like a frickin' wolf, dude. He's enormous!" Stiles stands and pockets
his hands in his hoodie.
"We don't have wolves here in Cali."
"Yeah, well. He still looks like one..." Stiles chews his bottom lip a little,
expression giving way to worry again. "So... If he doesn't have an owner,
what'll happen to him?"
Scott shrugs. "Usually we give strays to the shelter. If no one claims 'em in a
week, they go up for adoption."
"I wonder if dad would let me have a dog..." Scott sends his friend a look.
Stiles stares back at him. "What? I'd be a great dog owner, okay? I've wanted
one since I was five."
"I guess you would be pretty good at havin' a dog..." Scott looks back at
Derek, thoughtful.
"Damn right, I would!" Stiles grins confidently, ducking his head to look at
said still-growling beast. "Sure he's a little cranky, he probably just hasn't
forgiven me for, ah... hitting him with the Jeep..."
"You'd probably have to find work somewhere," Scott says. "Pay for his dog food
and shots and stuff. Your dad might go for it then."
"Everything alright back here?" Deaton asks amiably as he walks in, his hands
pocketed.
"Yeah. Just wondering if I could talk dad into letting me get a dog," Stiles
answers. He sticks the end of a hoodie drawstring in his mouth and chews at it,
eyes not leaving Derek.
"A dog or this dog?" Deaton comes to stand beside the duo, looking in on Derek.
"Because Derek here isn't all that friendly, like I said before. I had to use a
muzzle on him."
Stiles frowns at the vet. "Is there a chance he could come around with, I
dunno, TLC?"
Deaton smiles again while peering at Derek, whose green eyes stare right back
at him. Scott thinks it's a little unnerving how piercing that look is. "Maybe.
We don't know his past, but I don't think his motivations were pure
aggression." He draws his hands from his pockets to casually fold his arms. "If
I were a dog, I think I'd prefer some TLC instead sitting at the pound for an
unknown amount of time..."
Derek abruptly stops growling but his gaze doesn't waver off of Deaton. Stiles
and Scott both blink because, seriously, if dogs could scowl...
Deaton's smile becomes more enigmatic before he looks at Stiles. "Either way,
you have a while to convince your father to let you adopt. He has to get better
first and then go to the local pound; if no one gets him within seven days,
he's up for grabs."
 
Stiles pesters Scott into promising that he'll keep him updated on Derek's
progress once he's cleared enough to go to the local pound. In the meantime,
Stiles plots out how to ask his dad about it.
It's going to require bribery in the form of fried chicken, mashed potatoes,
and gravy. It makes Stiles feel like a bastard, but he really wants that dog...
He tries to play it casual.
His dad walks in from work and pauses at the door, eyeballing the meal laid out
on the table. Stiles slaps a cherubic smile on his face. "... alright, what're
you after?"
Damn.
Stiles blows air. "Who me? Pff! What makes you think I want--"
"Stiles."
"--a dog. I want a dog." Stiles chews his lip, bouncing his knee as he watches
his dad take his jacket off and hang up his gun holster.
His dad sits and grabs a plate over, moving quickly as if Stiles will change
his mind and try to take the food away. "What kind of dog, and you don't
already have one stashed in your room, do you?"
"Wha- no, dad," Stiles scoffs, eyes rolling. "We're not sure what kinda dog he
is, he's just this big ol' fluffy, wolfy-looking thing. I kind of accidentally
hit him with my car, so we took him to Deaton and he's alright now. We're just
waiting to see if someone gets him, because he didn't have tags or a chip."
His dad arches a brow and shoves a large gravy-laden spoonful of mashed
potatoes into his mouth. "So it's a big dog. That we have no idea is house-
trained or-"
"I'll work with him, I swear!" Stiles interrupts eagerly, sitting forward.
"I'll take full responsibility if he chews the couch or pees on the carpet and
all that jazz."
"Are you gonna be able to pay for his food and shots, too?" his father asks
over a bite of chicken.
Stiles wets his lips uncertainly; he hadn't thought of that one. He could
probably find part-time somewhere though. "Yeah. All that stuff."
His dad sighs and doesn't say anything for a while, purposely tormenting his
son. Stiles sulks and eats dinner after a while and finally, finally when
they're done, his dad sits back in his chair and smiles. It's just a little
reluctant. "So long as you take care of it and take responsibility for any
messes that happen, you can get a dog."
Stiles fist pumps in victory and his dad groans quietly over it, scrubbing a
hand down his face.
 
Stiles gives Scott the news and, for the rest of the week, he's one giant
buzzing bundle of nerves and he's pestering Scott every few hours about Derek's
status at the pound. Scott's amusement quickly turns to annoyance by the end of
day one.
Saturday morning, he gets a text from Scott informing him the pound hasn't had
anyone come by for Derek.
Stiles quickly peels himself out of bed, dresses, and heads off to the pet
store. He gets all the doggy essentials there; a collar and leash plus a
muzzle, just in case, dishes, and dog food. From there, he drives straight to
the pound and walks in with a bright grin, excitement having wound him up. He
announces he's there for Derek and he gets a strange look for it; apparently
Derek has tried to bite the caretakers a few times but, before they can tell
him he's probably an unsafe dog to adopt, Stiles argues that it's been seven
days, he found the dog in the first place, said dog was hit by a car and shoved
into strange places, ergo he's adopting him no matter what.
He gets the collar, leash and muzzle from the car, then follows one of the
caretakers back to the cage Derek is in. Stiles feels really kind of depressed
here; it's hard seeing all the other dogs and cats staring at him with either
hopeful or fearful eyes. Derek's cage is at the end and he's by himself there,
just lying down in the corner, head on his paws, eyes ever watchful. His ears
look like they're glued down but, when Stiles stops in front of the cage door,
they swivel upward.
Stiles grins; he thinks Derek recognizes him. "Hey boy. Guess what?" He holds
up the leash and wiggles it. "I've got an awesome home for you. Remember me?"
Derek's ears flicker back and forth a few times and there is honest to god
thought in those eyes, Stiles swears it. The large, black dog stands up
suddenly, head held low, and he takes a few steps toward the door.
The caretaker looks a little flummoxed. "He must like you..."
Stiles' grin is large and triumphant, maybe a touch smug. "He knows a good home
when he sees it. Lemme just-"
The caretaker's arm holds Stiles back. "Sorry, I have to. We're liable if you
get bit."
Stiles frowns some, but lets the guy take the leash and muzzle and he watches
him enter the cage. Derek's ears pin back again and he growls lowly, baring his
teeth. "It's okay, Derek," Stiles tells him, holding onto the chain link. He
really hopes Derek doesn't go rabid all of a sudden and he'll feel bad if the
caretaker dude gets bit to hell on his account. "You're comin' home with me,
just gotta be safe, you know?"
Derek glances at Stiles then back to the man approaching him and, while he
doesn't stop growling or baring his teeth, he doesn't make to bite. The
caretaker murmurs quietly to him, moving slow as he slips on the muzzle and
collar, clips the leash on, then lets out a relieved breath.
Stiles smiles again. "Good job, buddy."
"Thanks," the guy says, grinning lopsidedly as he leads Derek out.
"Not you, Derek," Stiles quips, snirking. He makes a grabby hand for the leash.
"I'd be frickin' scared too if some guy stuck me in a cage, then came at me
with a muzzle."
At least the guy is still a little amused. He hands over the leash and Stiles
offers the back of his hand to Derek's nose; he's been reading about dogs all
week. But Derek doesn't sniff, turns his head away instead to look around,
growling still.
Stiles smiles. It's alright. The sooner he gets Derek home, the better.
Chapter End Notes
     Find me at Tumblr. Be warned -- There will be pictures of men. And
     men's butts. And men's dangly bits. Often interacting with each other
     in fun ways.
     Thank you to my BB thevoiceofwrath for beta'ing so awesomely. Without
     her, my fics would be a mess. Expect her Tumblr to have sexy men
     doing sexy things as well.
End Notes
     Find me at Tumblr. Be warned -- There will be pictures of men. And
     men's butts. And men's dangly bits. Often interacting with each other
     in fun ways.
     Thank you to my BB thevoiceofwrath for beta'ing so awesomely. Without
     her, my fics would be a mess. Expect her Tumblr to have sexy men
     doing sexy things as well.
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