“The end is nigh,” Stiles intones dramatically, and then proceeds to sneeze so hard he’spretty sure he got snot on everyone sitting around him.
“This i sdisgusting,” Lydia mutters, making a face and scrubbing at her arm where Stilespresumably got snot on.
“Death is a disgusting affair, Lydia.”
“Don’t be dramatic, Stiles,” Kira tries sweetly, handing him over a tissue, or better,standing as far away from him as she can and stretching her arm as far as it’llgo so she doesn’t want to come in contact with Stiles. “It’s just a cold.”
“I’m dying,” he says and then proceeds toalmost cough his lungs out, feeling miserable. “And none of my friends will cuddle me.”
“That’sbecause you’re disgusting and won’t stop complaining,” Lydia tells himsincerely and throws a box of tissues at his head.
“I hate allof you. My end days are near and myfriends don’t even care. It is inyour darkest of times, when you truly-“
The door ofStiles’ room bursts open and Derek walks in slowly, frown scrunching up his faceand a tray with a bowl of soup balanced upon it, along with a glass of waterand what looks like medicine.
“You’re sick not dying, Stiles. Now sit upbefore I make you,” he threatens andStiles dutifully sits up on his bed, making grabby hands at the tray.
Derek rollshis eyes and very carefully sets it on his lap just before he starts throwingthe small mountain of pillows aside and climbing in bed behind him.
Stileswiggles and settles more comfortably between Derek’s legs, melting against hischest.
“Eat yourdamn soup,” Derek grumbles, wrapping his arms around him, making sure his openpalm touches skin so he can take any of Stiles’ discomfort away from him.
“Mr. GrumpyWolf,” Stiles mutters and eats his damn soup before Derek thinks about spoonfeeding it to him in front of his friends. Stiles would lose all his streetcred.
Derek rubshis face across Stiles’ shoulders and Stiles can practically feel the frown.
“Stop frowning, it’s unattractive.”
“I don’t like it when you’re sick.”
Stiles smiles into his soup and pats Derek’s leg comfortingly.
“See this is how you’re a good friend to your dying friends,” Stiles says, blinking his grubby eyes up at Lydia and Kira.
“You two have been married for two years, Stiles.”
Stiles grins because yeah they have. “Semantics,”he says with a hand flap, and then sneezes right into his spoon, sending bits of soup flying.
Derek kisses the back of his neck apologetically like it’s his fault Stiles is sick. Lydia throws her hands up and calls them disgusting while Kira coos.
All in all, he might survive this one.
YOU ARE READING
Sterek stories
FanfictionNone of these stories are mine. There is a bit of uhm... Mature things in the stories, so if you don't like it, be careful which ones you read. May repeat at times. I'm sorry about that.
