Noah was no stranger to stressful days, he could think of too many in recent months. But being stuck on the outside of a quarantine while his child was on the inside, only for him to walk out that night wearing a police investigation in the form of blood splatter would go down as the most stressful ones since Stiles went missing after the MRI for over forty eight hours.
By the point Stiles was free to go despite the symptoms still lingering from what Melissa had informed him was a supernatural bio-weapon and his clothes stored in evidence, it was pitch black outside and cold enough that Noah's breath hung in the air.
"Let's get you home, bud." Noah muttered as he wrapped his coat around Stiles' shoulders since all he had on was the papery beige gown, courtesy of the CDC when they processed his blood splattered clothes. Stiles didn't speak as he was led to the car, only moving his eyes from looking straight ahead to buckle his seatbelt; he didn't speak throughout the entire drive and was unnaturally still. It made his stomach twist with worry and it wasn't until they stepped inside of the blue suburban that they called home that he finally spoke for the first time since giving his statement.
"I don't know if Malia is gonna come back here, and it's my fault."
But before he could even say anything in defense of Stiles or Malia, he watched as Stiles' knees buckled under him and he nearly collapsed to the ground; if he didn't have a tight grip on his shoulders, he would've collapsed onto the hardwood floor.
"Whoa, bud," Noah muttered, making sure his eyes were open as he noticed how hot his son's skin was despite the fact they had just been in practically freezing air just a few moments before, "you okay?"
"Dizzy."
"Okay, let's get you to bed. You need your sleep."
Stiles nodded, his grip on Noah growing tighter as they walked, which made Noah walk faster since it most likely meant that he was getting more and more dizzy as the time passed; he helped him change into a pair of flannel pants and a t-shirt and grabbing the pillow off of Stiles' bed before leading him to his room.
"Thought you were getting me in bed." Stiles mumbled as he was helped under the comforter.
"I want to keep an eye on you," Noah explained before going over to his nightstand to pull out the thermometer and the bottle of Tylenol PM, "let's see how bad this fever is before you fall asleep."
Stiles nodded, his head lolling against Noah's shoulder as they waited for the beep. Noah could see his eyes fluttering shut and would have let him sleep but he knew that he had to do something about the fever, so he gently flicked his son's shoulder every time his eyes stayed shut for just a little too long until the beep went off, revealing the temperature of one hundred point two degrees.
"Take this," Noah tipped the dose to his son's lips and waiting until he swallowed with a shudder of disgust before putting the plastic cup on his nightstand, "get some sleep. I'll be here the whole time."
"Thanks, dad." Stiles muttered as his eyes fluttered shut for the final time that night and stayed shut, his head firmly pressed against his father's shoulder.