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Summary
“I am not mad about the cats not liking me."
Waving the words away like he was trying to get some irritating fly out of his face, Stiles replied. “Yeah right. I saw you when you tried to pick one of em up and it hissed at you. The only time you make that face is when you wake up, come down for breakfast and the Fruit Loops box is empty."
Derek wanted to deny it, it was written all over his face. Stiles wanted to bounce in glee, (oh hell screw it, he bounced on his heels anyways), wondering just how far he would manage to push his luck with the Alpha this time. ‘Let him crack, let him crack, let him crack like an egg for brownies.’ He chanted inside his head, keeping a wary eye on the hands that seemed two seconds away from sprouting claws.
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