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“I didn’t know werewolves could get stomach cramps.”
Derek opened one eye from where he was curled up on the couch and tried to bare his fangs at Stiles, but it was hard to look menacing when his stomach hurt so much. “It happens,” he grumbled.
“Really? Because in my experience you guys never get sick. Any kind of sick. Like ever.”
Derek wrapped his arms around his stomach tighter and winced at the pain. It would pass, he knew, but he would be miserable in the meantime. “We still get sick when we eat too much Chinese food.”
“Aw.” Stiles sat beside him and carded fingers through his hair. “Sorry, big guy. Next time I’ll be sure to tell you to slow down.”
Derek closed his eyes and focused on the feeling of Stiles’s fingers in his hair. “You’re not funny.”
Stiles flicked him gently on the ear. “I’m hilarious and you know you love me.” He sighed. “I wish I could take your pain or something, though. Stomachaches are no fun.”
“It’s okay,” Derek said. “Just…this is good.”
Stiles scratched his head, and Derek wanted to purr. “This is good?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay,” Stiles said, and kept stroking his fingers through Derek’s hair.
Maybe he’d still be miserable for a couple of hours, but Derek would be considerably less miserable as long as he had Stiles sitting right here beside him.