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24 November 2015 @ 08:47 pm
No, Seriously  
Title: No, Seriously
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Pairing: Stiles / Peter
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1358
Summary:
Thank you to @timelordchemist for the prompt: "Stiles works at the animal shelter and Peter, stuck in his wolf form -which looks more like a big dog- gets brought there and is really freaked out cos he can’t turn back."  --I guess I didn't write him as REALLY FREAKED OUT, but I figure he mostly internalizes that shit. That he even went to deaton and Stiles for help probably speaks for how freaked out he is.

“What kind of dog is that?” exclaimed Stiles the moment he stepped into the room.

Deaton paused momentarily in his movements, but didn’t answer verbally. It was more answer than Stiles usually got for his random questions, so it didn’t actually feel out of the ordinary. No, the only thing out of the ordinary was the great, big, massive, hulking, black-brown dog lying on the examination table. ‘Dog’ really didn’t seem like the right word for the animal. Yeah, it was questionable at best.

“Stiles, please hand me the bandage scissors,” requested Deaton after Stiles had spent a few moments floundering in the doorway, still taken aback by the huge dog.

He stepped into the room and pulled open the drawer on the opposite side of the examination table and grabbed the pair of scissors. The dog’s amber-gold eyes were on him as he handed the scissors to Deaton. It was off-putting to have such a large animal staring up at him and Stiles quickly took a step back once the scissors were in Deaton’s hands.

“Who’s dog is it?” asked Stiles.

“I don’t believe he truly belongs to anyone, yet,” answered Deaton cryptically.

Stiles narrowed his eyes, frowning. Would it kill the guy to give him a straight answer once in a while? His whole Miyagi impersonation bit had gotten old months ago. Pfft, even Miyagi gave Daniel straighter answers than Deaton ever gave Stiles.

“Okay, well, I guess I’ll go feed the cats,” said Stiles, finally.

He frowned at the great, big, black-brown dog where it was still laying quietly one last time before leaving the room. It’s eyes were trained on Stiles and it made him shudder under the scrutiny. There was definitely something not quite right about that dog.


It didn’t take long to feed the cats. Stiles checked the front of the veterinary office for anyone in the waiting area, but the building was empty. He headed back to the room Deaton and the dog were still in. Deaton was arguing in a low voice when Stiles approached the door. He reached to open the door but paused. Deaton rarely spoke and never to himself, who could he be talking to?

“He is your best option at this point,” Deaton spoke lowly. “Do not let your pride get in the way.”

Stiles frowned. Who was…

“Stiles,” called Deaton, suddenly. Busted. “Will you please come in here?”

Squeezing his eyes shut and swallowing heavily, Stiles turned the door handle. He stepped into the room with the most innocent face he could muster.

“What can I do ya for, Cap-y-tan?” he asked brightly.

“It seems I have a favor to ask of you,” said Deaton, his face not giving away anything, just blank as ever. “Well, it’s more Peter has a favor to ask of you.”

“Peter?” stammered Stiles. “Peter Hale?”

Deaton didn’t answer, but his expression didn’t change. Stiles looked at the massive dog that was now sitting quietly on the examination table, front right leg bound in bright white gauze.

“This is his dog?” asked Stiles.

“No,” said Deaton, slowly, as if drawing out the word would somehow make Stiles understand. “This is Peter.”

Stiles furrowed his brow. He looked from Deaton to the dog and then back to Deaton. The dog growled low in the back of it’s throat and that’s when it dawned on Stiles. He leaped backward, nearly falling over his own feet in his haste.

“That’s not a dog!” yelped Stiles. “That’s not a dog, that’s a wolf. No… that’s not a wolf! That’s a werewolf! There’s a werewolf sitting on your examination table! There’s a…” and then Stiles’ surprise turned into wicked delight. He busted out laughing. “Peter Hale!” he laughed, “Peter Hale is sitting on your examination table!”

The wolf stood up, it’s huge canine body dwarfing the tall examination table, and growled at Stiles, it’s eyes flashing a supernatural blue. Stiles just shook his head and raised a hand. Ironic though it was, he was much less frightened of the werewolf than he had been of the over-sized dog.

“Just give me a minute to get this out of my system,” demanded Stiles between guffaws.

Deaton and the wolf both stood staring at Stiles while he laughed.

“Is this your annual vet check-up?” he said a few moments later before busting out laughing all over again at his own joke. “Did you come for your rabies shot?”

The wolf sat back on its haunches with a put-upon huff. Stiles laughed harder at that. Tears were collecting in his eyes. Deaton looked unimpressed. His usually expressionless face bore the slightest hints of irritation. It was enough to have Stiles forcing himself to stop.

“Stiles,” said Deaton, coolly, when Stiles managed to bring his laughter down to a few chuckles. “It seems Peter has become trapped in his wolf form.”

Laughter threatened to burst from Stiles all over again. He pursed his lips and nodded, knowing the vein in his forehead was probably protruding prominently. Probably, his face was turning red, too. Peter Hale; cocky, smart-mouthed, condescending prick, Peter Hale, was stuck in his wolf form and reduced to come to the local veterinary for assistance. Stiles snorted. Then, it dawned on him…

“So, what’s the favor?” asked Stiles, suddenly.

“It seems he needs a place to stay,” said Deaton meaningfully.

Stiles grin fell.

“No.”

“From what I can tell,” continued Deaton, “it appears that Peter has been magicked into this position. It is most likely that the spell will simply wear off given time, however, he can not be left alone in his current state.”

“No.”

“Not all werewolves are able to achieve a full-wolf shift,” explained Deaton. “Those that do must remain vigilante the entire time they assume the form as it is difficult for them not to be lost to the feral side. Assuming their wolf form is to force themselves into a state of stasis in the midst of a shift. Should they ever shift completely into wolf form, they would never be able to shift back out as their cognitive selves would be completely lost to the wolf.”

“That’s all very interesting,” cut in Stiles, “but no. Just. No.”

“He needs constant engagement or he will fall prey to his own wolf,” said Deaton.

“What the hell am I going to tell people when they see this hulking wolf following me around?” exclaimed Stiles.

“I would suggest you keep him at home and go out as little as possible while he’s in this state,” answered Deaton. “While he is stronger and faster in wolf form, he is also most vulnerable. Should someone with the right kind of knowledge get wind–”

“So, you’re saying,” cut in Stiles, “that I, the son of the sheriff, should not only harbor a known murderer, but try to slip a wolf, which are outlawed as pets in California, btw, under his nose!? He won’t even let me have a real dog!”

“One of your best traits, Stiles, is your resourcefulness,” said Deaton. “I am sure you will find a way.”

Stiles opened his mouth, but wasn’t sure what to say. He closed it and ground his teeth together in frustration. He looked over at the wolf whose eyes were dancing with mirth. Stiles scowled at him; even in wolf-form, Peter was a total douche.

“I’m sure this experience will bring the two of you closer together,” said Deaton with the hint of a smile before handing Stiles a new, extra large collar and leash.

Eyes zeroing in on the collar and leash, Stiles' face instantly transformed into one of vengeful glee. The wolf whined.


“Is that a wolf!?” exclaimed Stiles’ dad from the kitchen table when Stiles and Peter stepped into Stiles’ house.

“Naw,” answered Stiles,“it’s one of those rare Finnish breeds. Cool, hey? Deaton needs someone to look after it for a few days.”

Stiles’ dad frowned.

“Make sure it doesn’t leave any messes in the house,” he said sternly.

Stiles grinned.

“He’ll be fine, Dad. He's a good dog,” he said before turning to Peter,“aren’t you, boy?”

Peter let out a resigned huff.



Originally posted here