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“Uncle Stiles? I don’t feel so good.” Alarmed Stiles turned towards the child and took in her pale face and quiet whimpering before he touched the back of his hand to her forehead. It was burning hot and clammy with sweat.
“Why don’t we get you into a bed, sweetie?” he suggested and Laura nodded feebly, although she made no move to stand up.
“Uncle Stiles?”
“Yeah?”
“My tummy hurts” she whimpered and then threw up all over Stiles’ shoes.
It took Stiles over half an hour to calm the sobbing child down, clean her up and get her comfortably tucked into his bed with a glass off ginger ale. She had just settled in when he had to rush her back to the bathroom to throw up again and when he tucked her into bed this time, he made sure that there was a bucket beside it. He stroked her hair and talked to her, a low soothing murmur, until she fell asleep and then proceeded to clean up his living room and held a small memorial ceremony for his now ruined shoes. They would be sorely missed and he sniffed slightly as he tied up the garbage bag and dumped them in the bin. Composing himself he decided to call Derek. He’d been so busy dealing with the situation that it wasn’t until now that he realized what was odd about it. Laura was a werewolf. She couldn’t get sick, could she?
“Derek? Something’s up with Laura, she’s sick.”
“What?” Derek almost shouted. Stiles could hear some hasty movements and a door slamming in the background. “What do you mean sick, she’s a werewolf!” Derek said in panic. “She can’t be sick!” Stiles rolled his eyes but at least that answered his question.
“What do I do?” he asked and soon realized that Derek wasn’t as much of a help as he’d thought.
“I don’t know! Should I know? I probably should, shouldn’t I?” Derek sounded like he was on the verge of hysteria and Stiles sighed. He really should have called Scott instead.
“Look, just come here and we’ll figure something out, okay?” he said reassuringly and then hung up. He’d talk to Scott instead.
Sadly, Scott was about as clueless as Derek had been and he couldn’t get hold of Cora. Melissa suggested different types of allergies but none of them knew if werewolves really could be allergic. Deaton was out of town and Stiles was not about to contact Peter, not until it was the very last option. So Stiles turned to his most trusted source of information instead, the internet. There had to be something useful there.
A slamming door announced Derek’s presence and Stiles winced. He’d have to talk to Big Bad about the destruction of other people’s property, not to mention his bedside manners. Ideally when visiting a sick person who’d just managed to get to sleep, one did not disturb them up by slamming the door loud enough to wake the dead. Just as he turned to the werewolf to point this out he saw Derek wrinkling his nose.
“She threw up?” he asked alarmed and Stiles nodded. “Where is she?” Stiles nodded towards his bedroom and Derek rushed over, before he got a hold of himself and quietly entered. Stiles poked around the internet for a bit before he decided to voice a theory.
“Laura, did you eat something with chocolate today?” She nodded, or at least Stiles assumed that was what she did because the blanket she was under bobbed slightly up and down.
“Drew brought a cake because it was his birthday this weekend. It had chocolate all over it and chocolate flakes on top and sprinkles and stuff” she mumbled. “It was yummy.”
“We’re not dogs, Stiles” Derek snapped, realizing where the conversation was heading, and Stiles held up his hands in a placating gesture.
“Well, sorry” he muttered. “I’m just trying to help and since canines can’t eat chocolate I thought that maybe it was the same for you guys.”
“I can eat chocolate just fine” Derek pointed out.
“You’re a grown up” Stiles retorted and Derek could have slapped himself when he suddenly realized something. He was a grown up. Laura on the other hand obviously wasn’t.
“Fuck!”
“Swear jar” came feebly from under the blankets and a small smile appeared briefly on Derek’s lips.
“Swear jar” he admitted, stroking her hair lightly. “How are you feeling, pup?” Laura only whimpered in reply and Derek felt his heart clench. This was his fault.
“My mother never let us have chocolate until we were at least ten years old” he explained. “It’s not lethal for werewolves as it can be for dogs but if we eat too much we can get sick and it’s worse for kids.” Derek sighed. “I can’t believe I forgot to tell the school she can’t have anything with chocolate. Laura, sweetie, how much cake did you have?” he asked her.
“Three pieces. Large ones.”
“Well, that solves our mystery” Derek concluded. “Try to sleep a little, pup, and tomorrow you’ll feel much better.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
Stiles smiled at the scene but then he remembered something and he suddenly felt as if he’d fallen into a pool of guilt. In fact, he was ready to call his father and turn himself in for child abuse.
“The cupcakes we made!” he groaned, clapping a hand over his face. “They had chocolate in them! I didn’t even think, so fucking stupid of me and…”
“Swear jar!” Laura piped up again.
“Yes, Stiles has to pay too” Derek said to placate her and then turned to Stiles. “You didn’t know. And she was fine that night since it was only a little bit in the frosting. No chocolate until you turn ten was more of a precaution that my mother made. As long as we don’t have too much it’s fine even for younger kids. Don’t blame yourself.”
“Hey! If you get to blame yourself then I get to do it too!” Stiles defended himself but he smiled.
“No one blames anyone” Laura said firmly and both adults had to agree that this was the best solution anyone had presented this far.
“How’s your tummy feeling, sweetie?”
“Not achy anymore” Laura said sleepily. “But I’m tired. Can you stay until I fall asleep?”
“Of course” both men said in chorus and settled down on either side of the small, sleepy pup.