Colds and Comfort, a teen wolf fanfic

Teen Wolf || Stetopher || Teen Wolf || Colds and Comfort || Teen Wolf || Stetopher || Teen Wolf

Title: Colds and Comfort – Stiles Summer Stories 2024

Tags: m/m/m, polyamory, sick fic, hurt/comfort, fluff, Pack Alpha Peter

Main Pairing: Chris/Peter/Stiles

Teen Wolf Characters: Mieczysław 'Stiles' Stilinski, Peter Hale, Chris Argent

Writer's Month Prompts: sense + bus

Summary: Stiles is sick. Stiles is also used to taking care of himself. So when both Chris and Peter come running to take care of him after hearing he's sick, he doesn't really get it, until they spell it out for him.

Colds and Comfort

Stiles Summer Stories 2024

There was an obnoxious buzzing next to his head, tearing him out of a fitful sleep. He groaned as he reached out with too much effort. His joints ached, making every move feel exhausting. Grabbing his phone, he unlocked it to see who was so excessively texting him.

From Zombiewolf [10:14]: You're late, darling. This will be loaded over you

From Zombiewolf [10:29]: Stiles I need you to let me know you're alright

From Zombiewolf [10:33]: Stiles. Answer your phone

From Silver Fox [10:35]: Peter is trying to reach you. Tell me you're ignoring him because he's annoying and we're all good, but if you don't answer either of us in ten minutes, we'll come over

Stiles blinked sluggishly at the texts and then started typing himself. Slow and taking far too long for his brain to formulate words. It felt like someone had stuffed his head with cotton.

From Little Red [10:37]: Sorry. Not coming over. Sick

Heaving an exhausted sigh, he dropped his phone back onto the mattress and collapsed down next to it, arms spread. It had started yesterday, on the bus. Actually, he was pretty sure he got it on the bus. The Jeep had been in the shop for the past week, after the latest monster of the week had attacked them and he'd hit it with the Jeep. Saving Erica in the process but also severely hurting Roscoe. So for the past week, Stiles had to take the bus. Too many people crammed together, and during this season at that! Yesterday though, on the drive back, he'd first had this sense of unease in his stomach, not quite nausea but close enough. He'd known, he was getting sick. And this morning, Saturday morning who got sick on a Saturday that was just cruel, he couldn't even get out of bed. Even though his alarm had been ringing since nine and he'd been eager for it too.

He was supposed to go to Peter and Chris' place, it was Saturday. Every Saturday morning, for about two months now, he'd been going to their place to work on the bestiary with Peter. Chris would go out and buy them breakfast and coffee and they'd eat together and then Peter and him would work quietly side by side together. It was the highlight of Stiles' week, which was a bit pathetic for a teenager, he supposed, but oh well what else was new.

Ever since the Alpha Pack, the Darach, the way Derek had given up his Alpha powers to save his sister, Scott had turned into a True Alpha and Peter had killed one of the Alpha Pack members to regain his Alpha powers, it had started to feel more pressing to gather information. So, Stiles and Peter had started compiling the Hale bestiary and the Argent bestiary and buying a lot of rare, shiny books online (because Peter had money and Peter spent that money on knowledge that Stiles loved to absorb and if he didn't know that Peter and Chris were happily mated and there was also just generally no way Peter would go for Stiles, of all people, Stiles would feel courted by this).

Groaning, Stiles rolled over with a glare. Saturday, of all days. Couldn't he have gotten sick tomorrow? He wanted to be in Peter and Chris' place, with them both, indulge in his stupid, pathetic little crush on the hot couple. These few hours every week, they felt so painfully domestic and Stiles could pretend, for just a little while, that he was a part of this, of them.

Enough self-pity and misery. He needed to drink something. His water-bottle was empty and staying hydrated was important. However, it also required him to get up. Groaning again, for entirely different reasons this time, he attempted to get up. And gave up after a couple moments, collapsing back onto his bed. Okay. No drinks or food for Stiles, then. That was okay.

His stomach rumbled. Because he hadn't eaten since lunch at school yesterday. He'd been so exhausted yesterday evening when he got home, he kind of just went to bed.

"Oh, sweetheart. You look wrecked. And not the fun kind."

Blinking sluggishly, Stiles looked up at what so clearly were fever hallucinations. Peter and Chris, standing in his bedroom, with concerned frowns on their faces. How were these men that handsome. Offering a lazy smile, Stiles rolled onto his side to more comfortably look up at them. How many of his wet dreams started off with them randomly in his room…? Too many.

"Wait," Stiles frowned. "I texted you. I did hit send, right? You didn't rush over here for nothing because you thought something happened to me, right? I sent the text?"

"If you mean the one telling us you're sick, then yes," Chris sighed.

"Okay, good," Stiles nodded pleased, before he paused again. "Then why are you here?"

Unless they indeed were fever hallucinations. The probability of that kept growing. Peter was crouched down in front of the bed, pressing a hand to Stiles' clammy forehead and then growling darkly, displeased. He even flashed his eyes red and that was just unfair. The Alpha eyes did things to Stiles, it should absolutely be forbidden for Peter to put them on display in Stiles' bedroom, that would only confuse him even more. And he was overall very confused right now. Mind messy.

"We decided to bring you soup," Chris supplied, lifting up a bag. "Where's your father?"

Soup from the fancy restaurant where Chris and Peter usually went for their date nights because did Stiles already mention that Peter was filthy rich? Stiles couldn't even afford, well, the soup actually. One time, when he'd still tried to date Lydia, he had taken her there and spent two months' worth of allowance on two salads. Man, was he glad he got over Lydia, he could not afford to date her. Well, not that 'moving on' had worked well in his favor, considering he'd hopelessly fallen in love with two men more than twice his age who were in a happy relationship.

"Focus, sweetheart," Peter snapped his fingers in front of his face. "Where's your father?"

Right. He'd been asked a question. Blinking repeatedly and slowly, he turned to look at them.

"Silver Lake," Stiles answered after a moment, confused by the question. "They're having kind of a situation and asked for back-up, dad and a bunch of the deputies went there on Thursday, he'll probably be back by Tuesday or something? I don't know. Why?"

"Why," Peter repeated mockingly, glaring at him. "Because you have a fever, Stiles."

"Yupp," Stiles nodded. "How's those two related?"

The wolf growled and flashed these far too sexy Alpha eyes again. If asked later, Stiles would blame the fever, sluggishness and fact that he hadn't eaten in twenty-four hours on his reaction, but he fully, instinctively whimpered and bared his throat to his Alpha. Peter gave the most pleased growl at that, resting a hand on Chris' shoulder, for some reason.

"You're sick, doll," Chris sighed and came to sit down on the edge of Stiles' bed. "Who's taking care of you, if your father is out of town? Will Melissa be by?"

Stiles frowned at Chris confused and then pointed at himself. "Me. I take care of me. Always have."

"Stiles-" Peter made a frustrated and near angry noise.

"I fully don't get what is going on with him," Stiles now pointed at Peter.

"Stiles…" Chris looked so troubled. "You look absolutely miserable, how do you expect to take care of yourself with a fever…? We did see your attempt at getting up, and the way you went down again. You couldn't even concentrate on a simple question earlier."

"And have you eaten anything at all today?" Peter tagged on with a judgmental glare.

"Fuck you," Stiles narrowed his eyes at the Alpha, growing irritated. "I don't need you to come here and judge me. I'm not a little kid. I've been taking care of myself and my dad and this whole damn household since I was ten. This isn't the first time I have a fever, I know how to get through it."

Chris sighed once more, but it was a sad sound. He reached out and ran his fingers through Stiles' hair in a way that made him feel like mush. Main reason why he had grown it out. The idea of someone running their fingers through it, or tugging during – No. Nope, not having naughty thoughts while an Alpha werewolf was in his bedroom, absolutely not.

"It's not about your capabilities, doll," the nickname never failed to send a thrill through Stiles. "It's about the fact that you shouldn't have to take care of everyone, and everything."

"Yes," Peter hissed. "You take care of both packs, support us with research, you're ready to help the betas, you come over to our place to help me with the bestiary every week, you do so much. I'm not trying to patronize you, I'm angry that when you need someone, nobody is taking care of you."

...Oh. Well, Stiles had no clue what to do with that. So, instead of reacting to their words, he just curled together small on his bed. Feeling oddly vulnerable now.

"It's not their fault," Stiles sighed. "I'm pretty sure if they knew, Allison and Scotty would be here in an instant. Heck, as useless in the kitchen as she is, Erica would attempt to make me soup, maybe Cora would help her, which would only make this more dangerous. And Boyd and Isaac would be battling my bed to change my sheets. Jackson would act annoyed but he'd still sit by my bedside, the emotionally constipated asshole. Kira would actually commandeer the kitchen and Malia would be dragging something she hunted in here, to make me 'feel better'. And Lydia would fully take charge of the entire household. Derek would probably stand right there in the corner, arms crossed, glaring like he's trying to glare my cold into submission. The twins would probably try to help too."

Stiles snorted softly, a fond smile on his lips as he thought about the two packs. He loved all of them dearly, the Hale Pack as much as the McCall Pack. And even though the two packs still edged on at times – Scott and Jackson had always been rivals and that did not get better when Jackson joined the Hale Pack after the bite took, while Allison and Erica also never saw eye to eye, both Erica and Boyd still hadn't forgiven her for hunting them like animals and shooting them and honestly Stiles fully understood that, even if he loved Ally some fiercely, they didn't owe her forgiveness, and similarly, Boyd, Erica and Cora were still wary of Ethan and Aiden for their part in their captivity, even though the twins had turned on the Alpha Pack and helped in the end – Stiles knew that both packs would be crammed into the house together if it was about him.

"Then why aren't they here?" Peter asked, voice sharp.

And oh no, he was so going to give his betas a scolding if Stiles didn't give a good reply. Stiles heaved a sigh of his own, not looking at either of the two. Uncomfortable with this conversation.

"I don't…" Stiles struggled with the words. "I don't need help, I know how to take care of this myself, have done so for years, so why should I bother others with it. They don't need to know, they don't need to fuss, I'll be fine on my own. I always am."

"You shouldn't have to, doll," Chris' face looked pained, his fingers still running through Stiles' hair. "I… I do get that you're very strong, we know that. And that you're used to not asking for help because for too many years, you didn't have help, but… things are different now."

"Pack takes care of pack," Peter growled, not threatening, just… softly growling.

"Please don't tell them," Stiles turned pleading eyes on him. "I really don't want to ruin their weekend and I absolutely can not handle having ten werewolves, a coyote, a kitsune, a Banshee and two hunters in this house, at the same time. I am so not feeling well enough to deal with that. Also, I am not sure if everyone would even physically fit into this house…"

He blinked dazed as he tried to imagine it. Felt like the home equivalent to an overcrowded elevator. He startled when Peter and Chris got up. And even though he'd just said he didn't need anyone to take care of him or help him, there was a weird ache in his chest at the thought of them leaving again. Right. He could take care of himself, always had, always would.

"Christopher-" Peter started, picking the soup container up from the floor.

"On it, love," Chris leaned in to press a kiss to Peter's cheek. "You take care of the food."

Huh? Stiles blinked confused. Wait. What was happening now? Chris grabbed Stiles' pillow and pulled the casing off and no really, what was happening here.

"What… are you doing?" Stiles asked while Chris stripped the blanket.

"The most specific thing you listed was changing your bedsheets," Chris pointed out. "I'm taking that as something you would really like to happen now."

"Well," Stiles tilted his head, feeling sheepish. "I've been so busy, I've been so busy I kinda hadn't gotten around to changing the bedding to my winter bedding yet. So. That's still the thin summer bedding. And I'm… I'm fucking freezing… Yeah."

Chris grunted and continued, sorting the bedding. Then, he turned to give him a look. Like he was waiting for something. Stiles frowned and looked around. No, Chris got everything on the bed.

"The mattress, Stiles," Chris sighed. "I can hardly strip the mattress while you're sitting on it."

"Ri—ight," Stiles nodded and made another attempt at getting up.

His knees were made of actual jello though, and sitting upright made a wave of dizziness and nausea overcome him in a manner that had him whimpering when he went back down.

"What was that noise," Peter called from downstairs.

"Dizzy," Stiles replied softly. "I'm making your mate's self-given task of changing my bed much harder by being unable to get out of said bed."

Chris huffed out a chuckle as he approached Stiles and then curled an arm around Stiles' back and reached the other under his legs, picking him up like he weighted nothing and damn it. Damn it all to hell. Was it not enough that Stiles had a major kink for werewolf strength and the thought of Peter manhandling him, did Chris have to prove what a Manly Man he was like that? Stiles squeaked high-pitched and wrapped his arms around Chris' neck, clinging onto him.

"...And what was that noise?" Peter sounded curious.

"Your mate has no manners and decided to manhandle me out of my bed!" Stiles yelped indignantly. "I am not a pretty princess, Christopher, unhand me!"

"Not a pretty princess," Chris agreed, amusement sparkling in his eyes. "Pretty prince?"

Oh, the fever was getting to him. He was hearing things. Closing his eyes, Stiles gave up and allowed Chris to carry him wherever the hunter wanted him. Chris could take him anywhere. Innuendo intended. And no, he wasn't even feeling guilty about these thoughts, not when those two broke into his house for the sole purpose of taking care of him. How was a guy supposed to handle his long-time crushes doing something like that.

"...Where are you bringing me?" Stiles asked suspiciously.

"You are sweat-soaked, doll," Chris frowned at him concerned. "Peter, if you have a moment?"

A second later, the wolf was right in front of them, looking at Chris curiously. "The soup is simmering, I put on tea. What do you need, darling?"

"This one needs a bath," Chris lifted Stiles a little higher for emphasis, like Peter didn't know who he was talking about. "Would you start drawing him a bath while I help him undress?"

A wicked grin spread over the wolf's lips and his eyes flashed red and what. Why. Stiles frowned. Was this some wolf-instinct thing of being happy to help out a pack-mate? Gently, Chris put Stiles down on the toilet seat and then pulled his shirt off first. So Stiles had spent a lot of time thinking about Chris undressing him but this was… not how that went in his fantasies. He sighed softly.

"No," Stiles' voice was sharp and his hand grabbed Chris' wrist tightly when he went for the boxers. "Absolutely not. I'm not getting naked in front of you guys. Out."

There was still some semblance of dignity that he wanted to cling onto. Chris nodded and left the room, together with Peter, once the bath was drawn, though Peter lingered in the door.

"We will leave this door open and if I hear anything that sounds like you drowning because you fell asleep in the bath, we are coming back in here," Peter warned him.

Stiles hummed his agreement as he went for the bath, movement sluggish and every step forced, but he was absolutely not letting them get him fully naked and worse yet, carry him naked to the bathtub. He would in fact rather drown in that bath than let that happen.

/break\

It took a bit to find where Stiles kept his winter bedding, and then to figure out how the Stilinski washing machine worked, but in the end, Chris was getting good work done. He raised a judgmental eyebrow when his lover entered the house, looking winded.

"...Did you really run back to our place to get our clothes?"

Peter growled though he looked embarrassed. "Shut up, Christopher, you don't understand werewolf instincts. Our mate is sick and miserable and while I, rationally, know that it's just a cold and he will be fine, my… my wolf doesn't, he just sees our boy is in pain."

Smiling softly, Chris curled his hand around the back of Peter's neck, pulling him close enough to kiss. He may not have the wolf instincts, but he understood the worry. When Stiles hadn't replied to Peter's texts this morning, Chris' mind was buzzing with horror scenarios. They lived dangerous lives, any kind of threat could have invaded, gone after Stiles, hurt him in various horrible ways. The relief that had flooded him when Stiles replied, telling them he was sick, had been intense.

"And we're here taking care of him," Chris whispered. "Go, bring him the clothes."

The wolf wanted their boy to smell like them. Chris wasn't really going to argue that, he'd love to see Stiles in his hoodie, wearing his clothes, being his. Shaking his head, Chris returned his attention to the laundry, ready to get their boy into a warm, cozy bed. It had been getting colder for weeks now and part of Chris was concerned that Stiles had still been sleeping in his summer bedding but at the same time, he wasn't surprised. Stiles took care of others, prioritized them so much, he often forgot himself. Chris heaved a sigh.

"You are ridiculous, Creeperwolf."

Chris' lips quirked into a smile as he got to watch his wolf carry their boy into the bedroom. Stiles was wearing Peter's sweat-pants, one of Peter's shirts and on top of it, Chris' hoodie. Sufficiently covered in both their scents, Chris hoped. A cute glare was on Stiles' face, half-hearted at best.

"I do have clothes," Stiles pointed out, as he was put down onto the mattress. "Clothes that fit."

For emphasis, he pulled on the hoodie, large enough to slip off one of his shoulders, revealing the pale span of his neck and shoulder. Peter's eyes were dark with lust and Chris knew it took the Alpha everything he had not to latch himself onto that neck. Chris was struggling himself.

"Indulge the wolf in the room," Chris requested amused.

Stiles rolled his eyes exasperated. "Oh, like half my closet isn't other people's clothes at this point because the packs keep leaving their stuff here in a very unsubtle manner. Is this about me being human, or me being in both packs? That you guys are competing for who makes me smell more like their pack? I swear, half the school thinks that the Lacrosse team is my personal harem by now."

Chris choked on a laugh at the face Stiles made, even as he felt jealousy twist his stomach at the idea of anyone thinking Stiles belonged to someone aside from Chris and Peter. Peter growled.

"I'll go and get the soup and tea," Peter left the room.

Jealous, possessive wolf. Truly, it was beyond Chris how someone as clever as Stiles hadn't figured out that Peter was deeply in love with him and willing to do anything for him. It was ironic, Chris had accepted this and ignored it for a while, after Peter told him – Peter had always been honest about his feelings, never kept them a secret from Chris (not that Chris hadn't figured those out himself, but he did appreciate the honesty). Yet the longer he was dating Peter, and thus getting more personally involved in the pack business, the better he got to know Stiles, the more he fell for the sarcastic, snarky, gorgeous brat. What can he say, he had a type when it came to guys.

"Thank you," Stiles looked up at Chris, wrapping the blanket around himself. "This is… so much better. And the bath helped too. You guys didn't have to…"

"We did have to, doll," Chris sat down next to Stiles on the bed. "But we wanted to. You deserve to be taken care of too, Stiles. You always take care of everyone, whatever they need."

"But it's not your job to take care of me," Stiles sounded uncharacteristically small.

He pulled the blankets even tighter, making himself look all the smaller. Chris frowned. He didn't like that, he liked his boy loud and brash, never backing down even in the face of danger and threats. It really did make him want to protect Stiles all the more fiercely to see him like this.

"Maybe we want it to be our job, doll."

Stiles tilted his head to frown up at him with a twisted expression on his face. "Listen, I know you're a great dad and all but I am not in the business for another dad. Really not."

Peter laughed in the doorway. "Oh, there's a Daddy Kink joke in there that I'm dying to make."

"Then go and die," Chris commented dryly, glaring at Peter.

Peter laughed even louder and stole a kiss before placing the tray with tea and soup in front of Stiles. Then, the wolf took a place on Stiles' other side, sandwiching the boy between them. Stiles grabbed his soup and started eating, but he also kept trowing wary looks at Peter and Chris. Neither of them indulged him though. If he wanted something, he'd have to say it.

"Why are you doing this, then?" Stiles asked once he finished his soup. "I just…"

"Is it that hard for you to believe that others care for you to the degree of wanting to take care of you, Bambi?" Peter heaved a sigh, brushing Stiles' hair back.

"Yeah," Stiles frowned up at him. "I've been taking care of my dad since mom died. He's trying his best, he really is, but he was never the… nurturing type, that was… mom's. And before two werewolf packs stumbled into my life, it was always kind of just me and Scott? I've been taking care of Scott since we first met, when he got bullied on the playground. I'm still getting used to having people care about me, so yeah. Yeah, this is hard to believe."

Peter whined at that, an honest whine. Usually, Peter had more dignity than that, he controlled his instincts better than that. But hearing their boy say things like that? Chris wrapped an arm around Stiles' waist, pulling him as close as possible. Peter followed from the other side, nuzzling against Stiles. A soft, pleased sigh escaped Stiles, his eyelids fluttering shut.

"You're warm," Stiles mumbled happily. "I'm still feeling so cold."

"We'll keep you warm then, sweetheart," Peter smiled. "And we do. We care so much about you."

"I'm not doing any of this out of paternal instincts," Chris grunted and made a face. "Believe me, doll, paternal instincts are the farthest from my mind when it comes to you."

"What… does that even mean," Stiles blinked confused.

"Nothing you need to concern your pretty little head with just now, Bambi," Peter smiled, patting Stiles on the head. "Rest, now. Get better. We'll talk once you're more clear-minded."

"Mh…" Stiles closed his eyes again, snuggling in between them. "Why… do you call me that? Bambi? Is it because of my flailing, like Bambi on the lake? Or because I'm the weakest member of the pack, the 'baby deer' that everyone has to worry about…?"

Peter snorted and shook his head. "Because you have the prettiest doe-eyes I have ever seen and they make my predator-instincts go wild, Bambi."

"...You wanna hunt me for sports?" Stiles frowned.

"I do want to eat you," Peter flashed his red eyes.

"You're very bad at waiting until our boy is feeling better," Chris commented.

Peter snorted and by the time they turned to their boy, Stiles as deep asleep.

/break\

Peter's wolf was contently purring as he woke up curled together with both his mates. Stiles did fit fantastically between himself and Christopher. Nuzzling against Stiles' back, Peter rubbed his nose along that pale, tempting neck. They were both laying half on top of Chris.

"Wait did you insinuate that you wanted to give me a blowjob?" Stiles squeaked as soon as he woke up, laying stiff between them. "Okay now that I said it out loud I can't tell if it's worse if you actually said it or if it was a fever hallucination and I just said that to your face."

"Blowjob, eating you out," Peter leaned over Stiles with a leer, liking his lips and showing some fang. "Anything you want, Bambi. As long as I get to ravish you, I'd be more than happy."

"Chris," Stiles yelped, slapping the hunter's chest. "Your boyfriend has lost his mind! Again!"

Chris grunted and sat up a little. He adjusted Stiles, who was still half on top of him, just grabbing him by the waist and pulling him fully into his lap. Stiles gave another endearing squeak and Peter followed the impulse to press a kiss to his cheek. A gasp escaped Stiles, those big, brown eyes widening even more, stirring Peter's predator-instincts. His.

"I'm fine watching him do either of those to you," Chris commented dryly. "Your choice, doll."

"Oh, my fever got really bad and I am having the hallucinations now," Stiles muttered.

"Your fever went down," Peter brushed Stiles' hair back, feeling his forehead. "You'll be fine."

"Then what is happening here," Stiles looked from one of them to the other.

"We meant to wait, until you're… well, until you're eighteen," Chris offered with a sigh. "But in the end, it doesn't matter, does it? We want you, now. Waiting is a pretense that's unnecessary, especially if you don't understand that someone would want to take care of you, because we want to take care of you in all manners, doll. Because we want you."

"I… have no idea how to compute that," Stiles admitted.

"That's okay," Peter smiled at him. "I've been in love with you for a long time, I'm fine waiting for you, Stiles. However long you need, you're worth waiting for."

Stiles turned away from the wolf, looking at Chris as though he expected anger or objection. Chris simply smiled and caressed Stiles' cheek, their boy nuzzling into the touch so softly. Peter sighed.

"I'm with Peter on this one," Chris chuckled. "You should be ours, we should get to take care of you. Share hot, soothing baths after long, cold nights out in the woods. Take you out to fancy dinners when you haven't had the chance to eat between research. Hold you while you sleep. Take you absolutely apart until your ever-working mind can find some rest."

A small, high noise came from Stiles and the scent of despair and arousal filling the air was so delicious, Peter had to hold back not to ravish their boy right her and now. He couldn't fight the growl though, the greedy and possessive growl. Stiles looked at him wondrously.

"Wait. The growling and eye-flashing isn't pack Alpha worry, holy shit, you're into me."

"Finally," Peter heaved a sigh. "You are my clever boy, and you really had me start doubting you. How did you not piece together all the painfully obvious clues I kept leaving behind because my wolf is too smitten with you to allow me full control when it comes to you?"

Stiles stared at them stunned. And then, with flushed cheeks, did he lean in, pressing the lightest kiss to Peter's lips and then to Chris' before settling back in on Chris' lap, closing his eyes.

"I'll do more napping now," Stiles declared with a yawn. "Thank you. For… taking care of me."

Peter smiled softly at their boy and then exchanged a warm look with Chris.

~*~ The End ~*~

Author's note: This fic was brought to you by - me having spent the better part of the past two weeks sick in bed with covid and damn it all to tell while I had to struggle with taking care of myself, I wanted the comfort of Stiles getting someone to take care of him. Fanfiction is about projecting and I was projecting Very Hard (I am recovered now, thankfully)