Stiles ran with wolves. Soaked the warmth radiating off their massive muscled form into the small space separating him from them. Saw the sick sight of crusted blood on matted muzzles, felt the pain with them when the crunch of their bones ringed and heard the howl of agony that went with it.
Stiles ran with wolves, hunters, a douche and a brilliant mathematician, and even a kelpie that one time on vacation at the beach. Stiles laughed, teased and fought alongside his pack for several years now. He has had close calls and injuries, fights amongst his family and hurt feelings. Scars that faded but will never be forgotten, friends lost and will always be remembered.
Stiles ran with wolves and from all his experience and pain he would have never guessed that this would have been how he'd go. With no explosions, no snarls, and no heroic battle cry on his lips, Stiles would go out without a bang, weak, fragile and veggied. With only one lone wolf by his side, Stiles would die this faithful night-
There was an unnecessary flick to his forehead that brought him out of his reverie. Stiles twisted his leaded head to only be blinded by the shear amount of light creeping in from the other side of this bleak realm.
'When did it become day?' He questioned his fog slaved mind.
Above him stood the ghost of a man bleary in his vision, a frown the most prominent stature of the creature, deepening sadly when Stiles laid his gaze upon him. With all his might Stiles tried to focus on the face of the man, the wolf, the only one near that may save him, and put him out of his misery-
"Stiles," growled the creature, a low but non threatening sound, just a reminder that this is a beast not a man.
"Stiles," he repeated this time with an exasperated sigh tailing the name. The beast rolled his mystical eyes and sat down on the cloud of death Stiles has been riding on to brush the sweat heavy hair from his face with gentle calming touches.
Stiles couldn't help his eyes fluttering shut as the man took a clean towel to rid him of his excess bodily fluid, a multiple of cold wet towels caressing on his fevered burning skin.
"I can practicality hear the mellow drama from here Stiles." The beast said fondly, as if this wasn't but a nick, a scratch and not a deathly curse riding his body of every day functions hour by hour until in a day or maybe not even so that he would be no longer.
"Isaac went out and got you some chest vapor rub." The soothing beast added as he plucked Stiles from the satin he lay on like he was nothing but a frail child, and I suppose that was all he seemed to be, not a warrior, or a genius, or even a man, but a sick sick child in his last hours.
He couldn't if he wanted to, do anything to refuse or curb the wolf from stripping him bare, and even as he did it feather light Stiles couldn't help to let out soft whimpers to sound his distress. He mumbled incoherent pleas to leave him be unclad with the wisp of air cooling his skin but his orison was not answered but denied as he watched the wolf shake his head and cloth him only with light gym shorts but clothed him neither the less.
Through the clustered eyelashes that weigh heavy on his lids Stiles could see first rather than smell the vapor rub, which was never a good sign, but the feeling of it being massaged deep into his chest was a relief like nothing else Stiles had ever experienced. He hadn't known he was speaking in his fevered delusions but he must have as his bedside companion chuckled lightly continuing to rub plenty of the mixture deep into his stiff tissues.
Stiles was shocked to see the man rise off to leave, his hand flew out accordingly to stop him from proceeding else where. Here he lay dreary without knowing when it may be his departure and he could only beg to not be left alone.
"Are you not going to give me the bite?" He asked weakly, only asking really to keep him by his side.
The man dropped harshly down on the bed with a sigh evading Stiles' quarantined area of space. Cupping Stiles fair dotted wrist the beast gazed into those amber eyes as he raised the weak limb to his mouth as Stiles' frail attempts to pull away did nothing to stop the beast lips from proceeding to ghost on the vain that pulsed under papery thin skin.
"Derek!" Stiles gasped as blunt teeth sunk over his flesh, his body, if even possible, grew hotter as the alpha's wet mouth licked the red wound still without fault keeping his eye contact.
"Stiles," Derek whispered, still holding Stiles' wrist to his mouth, " I know you don't want the bite and though I cannot promise in the desperation of your sickly demise that I would refrain from trying to save you but I can promise that this is nothing but the flu, and you are being nothing more than a spoiled princess considering."
Derek's grip loosened and Stiles flailed his arm away with an angry huff, "People die from the flu you know." He glared, "Not all of us have the ability to never carry foul germs. They've inhibited my body and powered my abilities down and taken me hostage, you will rue the day I die of this."
'Princess' he added as an angry afterthought. Stiles was not a spoiled princess. He had legitimate concerns and worries and Derek just didn't understand the strengths of the flu virus.
"Fear not dear maiden, for Erica and Allison are cooking you a remedy potion to eat." Derek mocked.
"Whatever." Stiles gripped, feeling weighted after the exhausting conversation the just had. "Go away." He puffed turning only slightly away from Derek to save energy but to make a point.
He regretted it almost immediately as he caught the blink of hurt flash over Derek's eyes before he harden his jaw and became his stoic self like he did years before when he felt emotions.
"Derek," he sighed heaving himself to turn and flop on his bad bed mannered companion. "Don't go." He mumbled into the mass of muscle his face rested on, not exactly in a comfortable position but not bad enough to actually move.
"I wasn't," vibrated through Derek's chest but his voice still passive.
"Why not?" Stiles whispered back thinking about how long Derek's been confined to the sick smelling room in close carders with a grumpy demanding human.
"Because soup will be done and you'll need to eat." Derek grumbled into what surely could not be nice smelling hair as he dragged Stiles closer to him, nosing his scalp and the shell of Stiles' ear.
Stiles only hummed appraisingly with Derek's forgiving touches processing what he said for moments onward drifting in and out of fevered consciousness but definitely feeling like half the fog had been lifted. Vapor rub, Stiles thought aloud, was a magical thing.
Derek's body rumbled underneath him with what took Stiles a moment to decipher as laughter. Lifting his aching limbs around Stiles' managed to prop his chin to look at Derek as his eyes crinkled and mouth twisted. Stiles was only reminded of how screwed he really was, tenfold.
Stiles reached out and ran an unsteady hand over that gruffy prominent jaw, up over those sharp cheekbones and brush under the undecipherable blue or green eyes only to frown at the sight of darkened skin that cast shadows over Derek's face.
"You should let Scott help out for a night. He can feed me, it'll be fine," Stiles whispered.
Derek's eyes fluttered open and his lips thinned.
"No." he chopped monosyllablely going back to his old ways of not expressing his feelings.
Stiles hummed back angrily as he could manage, glaring right back, "You need to rest. Seriously, Scott won't kill me it'll be fine."
"No," he grumped again, eyes flickering to the window in silence until his features softened and hardened again stoically before looking back at Stiles.
"You're my mate." Derek said grumped with a glare as if Stiles would challenge him about that. "Not theirs," he added like a child, "Mine. I'll take care of you."
It could have been just heartburn but there was a fiery sensation warming Stiles' organs at Derek's slightly possessive but loving determination, not that Stiles was going to let him know that. If this was a wolf thing Stiles was going to milk it for all Derek got. Maybe, Stiles could finally convince him to paint their room red, for a dying man's wish of course.
"I'm not a toy," Stiles shot back, dropping his head harshly back onto Derek's chest. "Big boys share," he added.
"Sure you are," Derek said suddenly cheery, "Princess Stiles comes with two outfits a knack for distress and a flare for the dramatics." Derek teased leaning down to nag happily by his ear, "Powered by Engerizer."