Stiles? [It’s tricky juggling the shopping bags and get the door open, but Sam just barely manages. Stiles had opted to stay behind and finish up a few things while he made a run to the store. They were hosting their first holiday party as a couple and both were excited. Stiles was decorating while Sam picked up everything they needed.
The apartment was eerily quiet and Sam frowns, setting the bags down near the door and slowly toeing it shut. His nostrils flare, scenting the apartment. No unexpected visitors, but it was too quiet. Where was Stiles? The wolf stole into the living room, pulling up short when he saw a small grey ball of fluff sitting on the coffee table.
[He knew what it was as soon as he found it while vaccuming behind the couch. Hex bag. The effect was almost instantaneous too. One minute he had two legs and a rather average height, the next he was covered in fur and less than a foot off the ground.
He'd hopped up onto the coffee table, checking his reflection in the glass. A chinchilla. He was a frealing chinchilla. He didn't even get to be something cool!
So yeah, have an extremely irritable chinchilla that totally wasn't crying in frustration earlier when he couldn't dial the phone for help. As evidence by the hiccups, which really doesn't go with the angry sulk on his face.]
Not again. [Because it hadn’t been bad enough when he’d been hexed into a puppy for a week. Not that it was all bad, he got to spend a lot of time cuddling with Stiles while he recovered, but still. There was something about being able to shift back to human form that Sam really didn’t like giving up. Sam turns the lock and moves to the table. The chinchilla looks upset, pawing at a cellphone dejectedly.
He holds out his hands for Stiles to climb into them.] They got you this time, huh? C’mere.
[He cuddles the little creature to his chest. Stiles may be tiny and ridiculously cute, but Sam knows his scent anywhere. It’s him. There’s the tickling smell of magic in his fur, which means there was another hex bag they were going to have to pick apart to turn him back.]
[Stiles gives a soft, distressed squeak that comes out far too adorable for his intentions. He paws his way up into Sam's hands, twitching and snuffling at his chest when he cuddles him. He's a goddamn chinchilla. Some party.
Stiles' tail gets caught between Sam's fingers, and he squeals involuntarily, squirming and wriggling to get into a more comfortable, less-ticklish position. He looks up at Sam with wjde, glassy eyes. What the hell are we supposed to do?]
Crap, dude, I'm sorry. Hey, hold still.. [He sits down, letting Stiles climb into his lap, his fingers absently stroking his soft fur.] Let me guess. Another hex bag show up out of nowhere?
[Stiles can't help but crawl around Sam's lap, exploring. Sam's a tall guy, and as tiny as Stiles is, now, Sam's lap seems almost endless. He lets the fingers run through his fur, licking at any that get close to his face. It's harder to focus than normal, and Stiles realizes with a quiet squeal that he's probably the only chinchilla in existance with freaking ADHD.
At the question, Stiles makes a soft noise and kind of rolls around in Sam's hands, trying to find a way to show him where the hex bag was - over on the floor, next to the pile of his clothes behind the couch.]
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The apartment was eerily quiet and Sam frowns, setting the bags down near the door and slowly toeing it shut. His nostrils flare, scenting the apartment. No unexpected visitors, but it was too quiet. Where was Stiles? The wolf stole into the living room, pulling up short when he saw a small grey ball of fluff sitting on the coffee table.
He’d swear the little creature was sulking.]
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He'd hopped up onto the coffee table, checking his reflection in the glass. A chinchilla. He was a frealing chinchilla. He didn't even get to be something cool!
So yeah, have an extremely irritable chinchilla that totally wasn't crying in frustration earlier when he couldn't dial the phone for help. As evidence by the hiccups, which really doesn't go with the angry sulk on his face.]
Reply
He holds out his hands for Stiles to climb into them.] They got you this time, huh? C’mere.
[He cuddles the little creature to his chest. Stiles may be tiny and ridiculously cute, but Sam knows his scent anywhere. It’s him. There’s the tickling smell of magic in his fur, which means there was another hex bag they were going to have to pick apart to turn him back.]
Reply
Stiles' tail gets caught between Sam's fingers, and he squeals involuntarily, squirming and wriggling to get into a more comfortable, less-ticklish position. He looks up at Sam with wjde, glassy eyes. What the hell are we supposed to do?]
Reply
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At the question, Stiles makes a soft noise and kind of rolls around in Sam's hands, trying to find a way to show him where the hex bag was - over on the floor, next to the pile of his clothes behind the couch.]
Reply
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