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Peter started to worry when Stiles' phone went to voice mail. For the second time in an hour. And he hadn't heard from Stiles at all yesterday.
He debated. He could feel the Pack Bond with Stiles, but there was something... odd about it. Which is why he was trying to call Stiles.
Peter rubbed his forehead and decided to wait another hour. Stiles was an adult, a full time college student, and perfectly capable of taking care of himself. Of course, until he wasn't.
So Peter fretted. For another fifteen minutes.
Oh, fuck it. Peter grabbed the keys to the car and drove the short distance to Stiles' dorm. He parked in the single 'Visitors' space and strolled into the dorm.
"May I help you?" The earnest young man sitting at the desk in the lobby stopped Peter. He had his college ID around his neck and Peter spotted the name 'Charles' on the ID.
"My name is Peter Hale and I'm Stiles Stilinski's... guardian and emergency contact," Peter introduced himself, holding out his driver's license as identification. "We were supposed to meet up today and I've called his phone and he doesn't answer."
Charles frowned. "I'm not allowed to let you..."
"And you do not need to do that," Peter assured him quickly as he put the ID back in his wallet. "If someone can check to see if he is in his room and if he is all right, that's all I'm asking."
Another frown, then a shrug. "Stiles is on my floor. Let me see if someone is up there and will check on him."
"Thank you," Peter said.
"Give me a few minutes," Charles said. He used his cell phone to call someone on the floor and had to try twice before he found someone who was in the dorm.
"Can you go down the hall and see if Stilinski is in his room? He was supposed to meet up with someone and isn't answering his phone." A nod. "Sure. I'll hold on."
Knowing Stiles was up on the seventh floor, Peter didn't try to listen beyond what he could hear on the phone. There was rapping on a door and a voice calling for Stiles. More rapping and the voice got louder.
The voice came back to the phone. He's pretty sick. If that's a real adult, bring him up and maybe Stilinski needs to go to a hospital.
"Paul says Stilinski is sick," Charles repeated. "I'll come up with you and let you in and then see if he needs to go to a hospital."
"Thank you," Peter nodded, trying to look like whatever a 'real adult' would look like.
Before they could leave, they had to lock up the lobby and make a call to another person to let them know the lobby would be unattended for a short time. While Peter appreciated the security, it didn't get him any closer to Stiles.
"You're his emergency contact?" Charles asked. "Nice of you to check on him."
"We were supposed to meet for lunch and he never cancels without calling," Peter replied. "So I knew something was wrong."
Charles nodded. "Always nice to have someone to help when needed," he admitted. "Although there are the helicopter parents... man, they're annoying."
"Trying to let you do your job," Peter said.
"And it's appreciated," Charles gave a quick grin.
Stiles' single room was on the end of the hall.
"He sounds pretty sick." Paul was hovering outside Stiles' door.
"Let me go in first," Charles instructed. "Sorry. I need to verify he's sick and, well, nothing else is going on."
"Understood," Peter gave a short nod.
Charles used a keycard to open the door and Peter immediately smelled illness. Vomit, mostly, but sweat and exhaustion.
Charles went in and came right back out. "Yeah, he's sick. What do you want to do?"
"If I may check on him first?" Peter asked.
"Oh. Right. Go ahead," Charles said, stepping aside.
Stiles was mostly asleep on the bed, the sheets twisted and awry.
"Silly boy," Peter chided. "You should have called right away."
"Ate something bad is all," Stiles admitted.
"You've been sick for more than a day," Peter said. "You willing to come with me?"
Stiles nodded. "Not sure I can move too far."
"If you can kind of balance on your feet, I can hold most of your weight," Peter said. "I have the car right outside."
"I can try," Stiles said.
"Anything we can do?" Charles called from the doorway.
"You would be an immense help if you could gather up the sheets and clothing," Peter said. He looked around. "Here's a laundry bag. I can get everything washed for Stiles while he's recuperating."
"Sure!" Charles replied.
Paul backed away. "I'm not good at this sort of thing, so I'm gonna go..."
"Thank you for helping," Peter said, knowing these were people Stiles was living with and that he needed to be polite.
"Sure thing!" Paul left.
"Where will you take him?" Charles asked as he stripped the bed and filled the laundry bag.
"I have an apartment in the Watergate," Peter admitted. "If he's not better by the morning, we'll go to an emergency room."
"Already better," Stiles mumbled.
"And if this is better, you should have called for help," Peter chided gently.
"Yeah, care!wolf," Stiles said softly. "Oh. Phone. Probably dead."
Charles held it up. "This? Looks it." He handed it over to Stiles.
"Let's get you out of here," Peter said. "Put your arm around my shoulder and I'll do most of the work."
Peter manhandled Stiles out of the dorm and into the car. Stiles sagged into the seat and Peter took the laundry bag from Charles.
"Thank you for your assistance," Peter said, holding out a hand.
Charles had a good handshake. Someone had taught him well. "Take care of him. If he's going to be out of classes for an extended time, call the Dean of Students Office and they will notify his instructors."
"Good to know," Peter said.
Peter manhandled both Stiles and the laundry, not needing to be quite so discreet in the privacy of the parking garage. Stiles squawked as Peter stripped him and put him in the walk-in shower.
Not that Peter hadn't seen Stiles naked as part of Pack activities, but it was the first time when they were alone. But this wasn't the time to notice, Peter told himself firmly.
"You'll feel better for the shower alone," Peter said. "Don't try to move and I'll bring you some clothes."
"Okay, okay," Stiles muttered, closing his eyes as he sat on the bench. He stretched out under the warm water.
Peter got shorts and a t-shirt from Stiles' bedroom and brought them back to the bathroom.
"Need any help?" Peter asked.
"Just... hang out in case I'm not too steady?" Stiles asked.
"Sure," Peter nodded. He handed Stiles a towel and Stiles not-quite-briskly dried himself off.
"Okay, that does feel better," Stiles admitted. He wobbled a bit as he dressed but Peter resisted jumping in to help.
"Now. Do you want to sit up for a bit, or go back to bed?" Peter asked.
"Sit up," Stiles said quickly. "I spent two days in bed and need to sit up for a bit."
"Do you want anything to eat?" Peter asked.
"Maybe some soup?" Stiles asked. "Like chicken-noodle-soup type soup. Nothing spicy, that's what did me in."
"What did you eat?" Peter asked as he walked behind Stiles on the way to the living room.
"I knew it was sketchy, but it seemed like a great Thai place on the other side of campus," Stiles admitted. "There wasn't a menu but they brought out dishes that we shared."
"You were the only one that got sick?" Peter frowned.
A shrug as Stiles settled onto the couch and Peter dropped a blanket on him. "Dunno. It hit hard and fast and I haven't had a chance to talk to anyone else."
"Well, don't go there again," Peter said firmly.
"Oh, no!" Stiles nodded agreement.