Work Text:
Knowing your boyfriend has Asthma is important. Knowing how to use his inhaler is a necessity. Both were things Stiles learned within the first few weeks of them dating. That knowledge is absolutely useless if you aren’t there. The high pitched, short, panicked breaths, are what he hears when he opens the door to their crappy apartment.
He drops his bag and is instantly running to the source of the sound. He finds Scott on his knees clawing at the floor trying to catch his breath. “Fuck.”
***
The first thing Scott thinks is that he’s going to die. He’s going to die because he swallowed his drink wrong and had a coughing fit that’s left him kneeling on the floor unable to breathe. He’s going to die because his inhaler is upstairs, in his sock drawer, because he hasn’t had an attack in years and didn’t see the point in carrying it. He’s going to die alone in his apartment and Stiles is going to find his body.
His vision is black around the edges and he feels something pressing against his mouth. He pushes it away because he can’t breathe. Why are you putting something in his mouth? There’s hands on his face and his heads being tilted up. “Scott, you have to breathe!” Scott shakes his head no. Can’t he see he’s trying?! “Yes. There’s something against his lips again and he realizes it’s his inhaler.
His hands clamp around the device and he presses down and he takes a breath. It’s not deep enough, he still can’t breathe. He does it again and it’s not until Stiles cups his face and wipes away the tears with his thumb that he realizes he’s crying. “Breathe. It’s okay. I promise, just breathe okay? Can you do that for me?”
Scott takes a third hit before he feels like he can breathe. It’s no where near as well as he usually can but it’s enough. It’s enough for his vision to clear up, for him to be able to think, and realize he’s exhausted. He looks up at Stiles who’s watching him for he first sign that something is wrong. “You okay?”
“Tired.” Scott rasps out. His throat hurts, his chest burns, and he can feel his lungs and muscles twitching as they get used to working correctly again.
Stiles helped Scott to his feet and they stumbled over to their lumpy couch.“Do I need to take you to the hospital?” Stiles sat down and Scott curled into him, face pressed into his belly.
Scott shook his head. “Call my Mom.”
Stiles digs his phone out of his pants pocket and quickly dialed Melissa’s number. Scott’s too focused on making sure he remembers how to breathe to pay attention to the conversation. He doesn’t notice how tense he is until Stiles’ hand and scratching at his scalp and his muscle relax. He moves enough to look up at Stiles. He takes a deep breath and Stiles smiles.