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"I'm dying," Stiles announced, loudly and theatrically as he entered Derek's bedroom. The recently turned 22-year-old flung the door open with more flair than was feasible in the small, cozy room. With a soft thud, the wooden door bounced off the plush Ikea chair situated in the corner. Instinctually, Stiles twisted out of the way as the white-painted door swung shut violently behind him. Although years of dealing with supernatural nasties and nearly dying twice a week hadn't been exactly enjoyable, at least Stiles had gained enough grace and limberness to avoid black eyes via doors.
Derek glanced up from the book he had perched on his bent knees, his distractingly gorgeous eyes raking up and down Stiles' lanky form. Although the university student wanted to believe that his boyfriend was just drinking in the sight of him, he knew better. "Not, like, dying in the 'I got stabbed' kind of way," Stiles huffed. "Someone coughed on me."
Derek blinked. After a moment, he nodded. "Want me to bite their head off?" he asked, deadpan. Snickering, Stiles belly-flopped onto the bed alongside the werewolf, forcing Derek to make room or get his left side dented by Stiles' bony elbows and knees.
"Hi," the younger man greeted, squirming around until he was lying on his side and facing Derek.
"Hi," the alpha replied, absently smoothing Stiles' floppy hair back from his sweaty forehead. Beneath his freckles, Stiles was pale and washed out with two dark bags carved beneath his eyes like crevices on a cliff. Gently, Derek pressed his palm to his boyfriend's forehead. "You have a fever," he said softly.
"Yeah, duh," Stiles huffed, "I told you!" Absently, his heart fluttered at the fact that his werewolf boyfriend had learned how to guess temperature despite the difference in body heat between 'wolves and humans. Stiles pressed a kiss to Derek's stubbled cheek. "Cuddle me," he ordered. "I'm cold."
Obediently, the alpha marked his page with a bookmark and pushed the book aside to wrap his muscular arms around Stiles. "What are you reading?" the 22-year-old asked. He delayed the answer for a moment by humming contentedly and rubbing his face against Derek's neck; dating a werewolf had worn off onto him over the past three years. Making a low, rumbly noise, almost like a purr, Derek scent-marked him back.
After a moment, the alpha answered. "Dunno," he murmured, still nosing at Stiles' smooth, ivory neck.
Stiles made a noise something like a croaked scoff. "How do you not know?" he complained. Suddenly, the uni student broke off into violent coughs that made a vein stick out under his jaw. Soothingly, Derek patted his back and drew pain from his chest and throat. Eventually, after the body-wracking coughs tapered off, Stiles crawled over his boyfriend's body and straddled his waist. "Thanks babe," he said sweetly, pressing his lips against the illness-immune werewolf's. The kiss was short and sweet--even if one party was immune, kissing while sick was never the experience that anyone wanted it to be. Even so, Stiles managed to snake an arm out and snatch up the book from the bedside table.
A loud laugh burst from him, filling the room with it's scratchy sound. "You're reading Twilight," he said through giggles. "Fuck, that hurts," Stiles huffed, rubbing at his sore throat even as he continued to cackle.
“Shut up,” Derek growled, though Stiles was long past being intimidated by his boyfriend. “Erica said I should,” Derek mumbled, huffing loudly and burying his face into Stiles’ shoulder.
“You’re such a cutie,” Stiles teased, rubbing at the werewolf’s fluffy hair.
“Shut up,” Derek repeated, rolling them until he was comfortably sprawled across the younger man’s frame. “You’re sick. We’re taking a nap,” he ordered. The heavy weight of his muscled body trapping Stiles made it impossible for him to disagree. Pouting dramatically, Stiles dropped his arms across Derek’s back and shut his eyes with a flare that shouldn’t have been possible.
“I love you,” he said, marking it with a harsh cough.
“I love you, too,” Derek replied, smiling against his boyfriend’s shoulder.
