Stiles tossed and turned for the umpteenth time that… morning. Well, it was morning now. He tried to get proper sleep all night, but his sinuses refused to cooperate. The following symptoms of this poor unfortunate soul were these: He felt like he just pissed off a jaguar and it scratched his throat in vengeance. His nose felt as runny as a waterfall and he probably worsened recession because of the many amount of tissues he had used. Not to mention, his body temperature was constantly flipping the hot n' cold switch. To conclude, Stiles felt like hell.

He moaned and swathed his arm around his eyes, shielding it from the blaring light.

"Frickin' sun," he muttered.

It had no business sticking its nose through his curtains.

He turned his head to the side and groggily glanced up at the alarm clock. 7:03 AM. He was gonna be late for school if he didn't get his arse moving.

Great.

Meanwhile, Harvey was getting ready for work.

It was safe to say that the way the two were feeling that morning were complete polar opposites; like heaven and hell.

He had just gone for a morning run, showered, and now was dressing in the usual classy suit and tie. When he was professionally clothed, Harvey ambled to the kitchen and was surprised to see no sign of the hyperactive teen sitting by the counter; grumbling about how he had to wake up at the crack of dawn and suffer for another eight hours. Since Harvey and Ray passed Stiles's school on the way to work, Harvey was going to give him a ride today. He always did when he wasn't running late.

Harvey glanced at his watch. 7:34 AM. The boy was definitely going to be late if he kept this pace up. That being said, Harvey walked over to Stiles's room. He paused at the door, bewildered, when he heard many grunts, curses, and the sound of objects being knocked over. He knocked on the door once, twice, three times before entering.

One eyebrow sunk and the other soared as he gazed upon the state of the boy's room. It was as if it had rained crumpled white tissues all over the floor, bed, dresser- practically the whole room! But when Harvey's eyes fell upon Stiles's face, he grimaced.

"That's always the reaction I typically shoot for."

Harvey frowned at the nasally stuffed voice.

He stepped closer to the teen, mindful of the white tissue piles. "Are you sick?"

Stiles bit the inside of his cheek, trying to hold back a curt sarcastic retort.

Trying.

"No, I'm just peachy," he croaked, before dispersing into a coughing fit.

Harvey's frown deepened and he excused the tone of voice. He stepped in front of the teen. Stiles cleared his throat a bit nervously and avoided Harvey's eyes. He always felt uncomfortable when the man did this, this whole analyzing thing. He felt two fingers lightly tap the side of his cheek. He reluctantly obeyed the message, amber orbs cascading up at the concerned figure.

Harvey's eyes scanned his bloodshot eyes, the dark under eye circles, the red nose and flushed cheeks.

He placed a hand in front of Stiles's chest, signaling him to stop when he started to reach for his backpack. "Uh, what do you think you're doing?"

Stiles squinted bewilderedly, "Um, getting my backpack?"

~Aaand up went that eyebrow. "You're not going to school."

"I'm fine," he said, digging his nails into his sweats, trying to keep himself from bursting into another coughing fit. Truth be told, Stiles didn't want to go to school (obviously). But the teen didn't want to stay home either. He liked his room and all, but he couldn't look at computer screen, much less a TV one. He had no source of entertainment because every ounce of light seemed to practically blind him. At least when he's at school his friends would distract him from his sore throat, runny nose, and headache. Albeit ten feet away from him, but it was much better than the alternative; sitting in his room, dying alone.

A small tickle formed and caressed his esophagus. He cleared his throat, but instead of it disappearing, Stiles made it worse and it grew into a scorching flame inside his throat. He couldn't hold it in anymore and let loose. Like pressing acid into a fresh wound, the coughing scratched and stung his already sore throat. Stiles looked up from his arm and immediately met with Harvey's -fine-my-ass look.

Harvey sighed and took the backpack from his hold, placing it in the corner of his room.

"Lie down," he commanded, putting a hand on the boy's chest and gently pushing him down onto the bed.

Stiles pouted and wanted to complain about how he couldn't breathe properly when he laid down, but he obeyed. Harvey helped untangle the black covers and covered it over Stiles's body. He laid a hand over his forehead and Stiles closed his eyes at the gentle touch. Harvey frowned at the unnatural heat radiating under his palm.

Harvey left the room without another word, leaving a sulking Stiles behind. Stiles ran a hand over his mouth and sighed. This was embarrassing. The man had work to do and he had to stay here and take care of him like an infant. Why couldn't he be one of those rare human beings that don't get sick and laugh at their friends when they do? Stiles grimaced. On second thought, he wouldn't laugh nor wish this pain on even his worst enemy.

Harvey came back with what seemed to be a thermometer in his hand and crouched down to his level.

"Open," he commanded.

Stiles frowned, but did what he was told. Harvey placed the bulb of the thermometer underneath his tongue. Stiles clamped his mouth shut and re-opened it after a minute or so. Harvey took the thermometer and breathed through his nostrils discontentedly.

"What is it?" Stiles croaked out.

Harvey met his gaze. "102.5," he said sullenly.

Stiles smirked, "Sounds like a radio station." His smirk disappeared when he met with Harvey's glare.

"This isn't funny," Harvey growled, turning around and placing his phone on his ear. "Donna, I'm gonna need you to do me a huge favor."

Stiles curiously leaned forward trying to catch what the two were saying.

"-Yeah, I need you to pick up some tea and medication. No, I'm not sick," Harvey scoffed, "it's Stiles."

Stiles grinned cheekily when Harvey flinched and removed the phone a couple inches from his ear. He caught Donna's exasperated, "Why didn't you tell me he was sick!?" from the phone speakers.

"Hey," Harvey defended, "I just found out this morning. It's 102."

Donna must have asked for his temperature. He wondered if she was the motherly type that would suffocate you with affection. Well, knowing Donna, it would be a kind of affection that would either scare you shitless or make you shit yourself. Maybe both.

"I wish I could," Harvey responded, turning around and shooting Stiles a glare that caused him to sink back in his covers fearfully, "but I have to stay here and make sure he doesn't do anything stupid."

Stiles pouted, affronted, and Donna's "Fair enough," from the phone didn't help either. Stiles begun immediately after Harvey put his phone in his pocket.

"Define 'stupid'?"

Harvey fixed him with a look. "Is that a rhetorical question?"

Stiles narrowed his eyes. "Oh ha-ha."

Harvey drew a small grin and handed Stiles a glass of water that was on the drawer. Stiles sat up and immediately regretted the action when his head pounded in defiance, causing him to let out a sharp cry. Harvey's grin disappeared and he set the glass down before quickly moving his hands under Stiles's arms. "Easy," he whispered, gently helping the boy sit up. He handed the glass of water to the teen and watched him gulp down all the water.

"Ouch," the younger man rasped when he finished.

Harvey rolled his eyes fondly. "You'll live."

The two heard the doorbell chime and ring throughout the luxurious loft. Harvey took the glass from the boy's hands and went to go answer the door. He turned the handle and his eyes instantly met Donna's. The red-headed woman smiled at him and he gratefully returned the favor. He noticed the heavy grocery bags she was carrying.

"What's all this?" Harvey asked, taking the bags from her hold.

Donna smirked. "It's going to take more than Tylenol and tea to cure him, Harvey." She gracefully moved passed him. "I'm going to make soup," she announced over her shoulder, retrieving to Siles's room, the click-click of her heels echoing throughout the hall.

Harvey's mouth set into an un-amused line. Simply wonderful. Now he would never hear the end of Donna's lectures and how he should "actually use" his refrigerator. She made it seem as if the entire thing had been cleaned out and he let Stiles starve to death. He is a busy man after all, so the usual takeout food and occasional high-class restaurant did the trick deliciously.

Harvey closed the door and set the grocery bags onto the kitchen counter. He heard Stiles's sempiternal coughing audibly from his room, and he immediately begun rummaging for the medication. Damn flu, he thought. They were nasty things. As soon as his fingers wrapped around the bottle in silent triumph, Harvey made his way over to the teen's room. When he entered, he found Donna sitting next to Stiles, placing a cool cloth over the boy's forehead. He would have smiled at the sight if Stiles's complexion wasn't pale white meeting sick flush. Harvey sat next to him on the other side of the bed. He slipped his hand underneath the boy's head, gently propelling it up from the pillows. Donna watched as he drank the liquid, and handed Harvey another glass of water for Stiles to wash down the medication.

"Are you winking at me?"

Stiles would have rolled his eyes at the man if they weren't too busy twitching.

"No," he denied, voice sounding gravel, "the sun's accomplishing its mission to practically blind my eyes."

Stiles wasn't expecting Donna to rise up out of her seat and actually close his curtains. He felt the cool cloth being readjusted on his forehead. As a matter of fact, he wasn't expecting them to actually take care of him at all. It's not that he didn't appreciate the gesture, but it took him by surprise. They didn't seem like caring material- especially Harvey. If you had mentioned the mere idea of Donna and Harvey hovering over his head, closing his curtains, buying medication, checking his temperature, tucking him in, he would have snorted and said yeah right! The whole concept seemed foreign and…weird. And to make matters even stranger, a calloused hand begun to thread through his hair.

He sighed, almost contently. "Why are you two being so nice?"

The hand in his hair stopped. The curtain shielding the light hesitated. Harvey and Donna silently glanced at eachother.

"We're helping you recover, Stiles." Donna stated naturally. She hoped the teen was being sarcastic again and the serious tone in his voice was just her hearing things.

Stiles shook his head and coughed. "But don't you guys have better things to do?"

What?

Harvey glared at him; taken aback. "You expect us to just leave you here and be on our way?"

Stiles shrugged sluggishly. "That was the general idea, yeah." he mumbled.

"I'll be in the kitchen," Donna announced suddenly. She exchanged glances with Harvey once more. 'FIX IT' she mouthed to him before leaving.

Why would the kid even think that? Harvey silently pondered. Or better yet, what LED Stiles to have such thoughts? Harvey knew he shouldn't be offended, but he was. Yes at times he could be ruthless, and there was the 'not caring' rule that always seemed to contradict itself, but that didn't mean he was a monster.

"Do you really think that low of me?" Harvey questioned, "That I would leave you here, with a dangerously high fever, to fend for yourself?"

Stiles's eyebrows furrowed. "N-no, that's not-

"But that's what you were implying." Harvey quipped.

Stiles opened his mouth to say something, but his mind went blank. Yes, he did think that Harvey just simply had more important things to take care of, rather than being stuck here with him. But when he put it that way… he didn't know. Clearly Harvey was offended, but it wasn't his intention to offend the man. However, good intention or not, when Harvey rose up from his side and walked out of the room without another word, guilt crashed down onto his shoulders. He didn't even know why Harvey was offended, but Stiles hated being the cause and source for it. It was an honest question, but now seeing the answer, he should've kept his mouth shut.

He closed his eyes and groaned; partially for being an idiot and partially from the pain.

/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/

Harvey poured a glass of scotch for himself and one for Donna. He watched her cook, her strawberry blond hair tied back into a high ponytail. She still managed to look classy and elegant- even with an apron on. He brought the two glasses to the source of the delicious aroma, placing one on the counter and sipping the other in his hand.

Donna moved the tea kettle onto the stove and set the lid over the pot of soup. She then took the glass of scotch in her hand and silently regarded Harvey.

"I take it the talk with Stiles didn't go so well?" she presumed.

Harvey pursed his lips and toyed with the liquor in his hand. "If his fever reaches 103, I'm taking him to the hospital."

Donna nodded in agreement. Some silence, then, "You know Harvey," she offered, "maybe you should tell him why you stayed here to take care of him."

He downed the drink. "I shouldn't have to," he retorted.

Donna crossed her arms. "Maybe," she admitted, "but I doubt the kid meant any harm."

Harvey opened his mouth to respond, but was interrupted by the sound of glass shattering. He and Donna exchanged fearful glances before bolting out of his seat and running to Stiles's room with Donna right behind him. He couldn't swallow down the panic that bubbled in his chest at the sight of the empty bed and tangled covers.

"Stiles?" Donna called.

They were answered by loud coughing. Harvey followed the sound and ended up standing in front of the main bathroom door. Not bothering to knock, he kicked it down. Instantly, the panic worsened as his eyes laid on Stiles's hunch figure; his body racking with coughs.

"You're supposed to be in bed!" Harvey growled. Underneath the angry tone secretly lied concern and, albeit, a fraction of fear.

"Nngh," was Stiles's reply, as he tried to walk on his own without leaning against the sink for support. But as soon as he let go, his knees buckled. Harvey lunged forward just in time to catch him before he fell to the floor. He brought the teen's arm around his neck and wrapped his own arm around his waist; half-dragging and carrying him.

"Lay him on the couch," Donna suggested worriedly, "it's closer."

Harvey slowly and gently laid Stiles on the couch, trying to ignore his groans of protest. As if sensing what he was going to ask next, Donna handed him the thermometer. However, Stiles was sick of things being shoved into his mouth, making him feel nauseous, so he clamped his mouth shut and turned his face away.

Harvey grabbed his chin and forced his face one direction, effectively ceasing his fidgeting.

Stiles shook his head. "Mm-uhm."

"It's either this or the hospital." Harvey snapped, patience thrown out the window.

Stiles obliged.

He was glad his cheeks were already flushed from the fever instead of his embarrassment. Stiles shifted uncomfortably, awkwardly as he sat there sort of sprawled, thermometer in his mouth, Harvey watching him like a hungry lion about to attack its prey.

Harvey finally took the damn thing out of his mouth. "I change my mind," he said looking at Stiles, "you are going to the hospital." He shifted his attention to Donna. "His temperature's 103."

"W-wait!" Stiles began, swallowing down another coughing fit. "Can we please just wait a little bit longer? Y'know… until the fever dies down?"

Harvey gave him a pointed look. "Fevers don't just 'die down'."

"Look, I know I can't say that I'm fine, but I will be. I haven't vomited or anything. Sure, I have some aching muscles, a little cough and a fever, but that's normal for having the flu, right?"

The glare didn't change. Stiles sighed, all energy lost, and shrunk back into the couch shielding his eyes from the world with his hand. "I'm sorry I pissed you off, but I really don't wanna go to the hospital."

Harvey looked at Donna, "I told you so" was written all over her face. He then looked back at the bundled up teen that looked vaguely similar to a kicked puppy. His gaze softened at the poor sight.

"Up," he motioned the boy.

"Please Harvey," Stiles pleaded, (quite pathetically if you'd ask him) as they resumed their previous position. When Stiles saw they were heading for the door, and not his room's door, he panicked. Stiles tried to push himself away but was too weak to do so. So, he did the only think he could think of doing at that moment. In one fluid motion, Stiles buried his face in Harvey's chest. Sudden humiliating display of affection be damned.

Harvey stiffened, taken aback once more. "Stiles," he gasped.

Stiles stopped moving altogether. If Harvey was going to take him to the hospital, he'd have to practically drag him there. "Please," he spoke. The amount of need in his voice was purposely multiplied.

Harvey sighed and dared not to look at Donna. He opened his mouth to argue but stopped when a heard a sniffle resonate from his chest.

"Alright alright," he truced. The kid knew just what to do to play his heart stings like a harp.

Stiles's mischievous and devilish smirk was hidden. The "You win," part wasn't spoken, but he heard it loud and clear.

Harvey steered them both to the couch.

After hours of rest and drinking all kinds of immune aiding liquids, Stiles's temperature miraculously simmered down to a 101. Stiles comfortably sunk back further into the warm couch. He was so damn happy. He wasn't this happy since Christmas, and even then the amount of happiness didn't compare. It was so much fun to finally tease the mighty Harvey Specter and practically sing that he's gone too soft, that he does care, that maybe it's a sign of old age. Okay, maybe not the last one, but you get the idea.

"Hey Harvey!" Stiles chimed a bit too loudly. Harvey turned around to see him grinning like an idiot. "Can you pass me the-

A blanket was thrown in his face.

Moments later, Donna handed both of them a steaming bowl of hot soup.

"I brought movies!" She cheered.

Harvey and Stiles groaned when they saw the cover of Jane Eyre, but little did they know there was a Star Trek CD inside. She smirked. What? She was allowed to have fun too. Donna sat back and nestled besides Stiles, Harvey just on the other side.

The two were never so overjoyed to hear that theme song as they were in that moment.

Fin.

Yeah, I know, this was kinda stupid, but in a fluffy cute way! Honestly, I didn't plan for this chapter to go this far, but with writing it's like planting a seed and watching it grow, and grow, and grow…

I apologize for my long-ass leave of absence. With switching to a new school and all, it's been kind of hectic. Thank you so much for your patience guys. I feel like I can move mountains.