How To Take Care of Sick Humans 101

“Dude!” Stiles exclaimed as he managed to unbury himself from beneath the gigantic pile of heavy, itchy, scratchy blankets that Derek had unceremoniously piled on top of him. “I don't need anymore blankets!”

Derek frowned as he paused and just stared at Stiles, considering whether or not there was any merit in listening to him. The fact that he set his mouth in a determined line and did not turn around to put the new pile of blankets in his arms away was frightening to Stiles.

“Did you raid the entire linen closet looking for the most uncomfortable blankets possible, or something? Go put those away, oh my God...” Stiles was eyeing them like they were lethal weapons.

“These blankets are the warmest.” Derek said, as he dropped the pile on Stiles and began to try to smooth them out to make sure they distributed the warmth evenly over the protesting human.

“I'm already hot, Derek! Look, perspiration!” he said, pointing to his forehead which was, indeed, breaking out in beads of sweat. One of those beads broke away from the others and slid slowly down his temple.

Derek simply stared at him, unmoved.

“Look, I know I'm sick and all, but I can probably handle this myself.” Stiles said, in that cajoling tone he used on Scott when his friend was being stubbornly stupid.

“You have a fever and I have to keep you warm.” Derek insisted, as he started tucking the blankets around Stiles, as if to make a cocoon out of them. A blanket cocoon of misery and death.

“Where did you hear that you have to practically smother me in order to help me??” Stiles asked, trying his best to fuck up the cocooning process until Derek growled at him and shoved his hands away.

Derek pointedly refused to answer.

“Dude...what are you doing?” Stiles didn't know if he wanted the answer.

“Tucking you in.” Derek's matter-of-fact tone left no room for argument.

“Derek, no, this is ridiculous! I can hardly move, I'll die under here of heat exhaustion!” but that had never stopped Stiles from arguing before.

Derek gave him an unimpressed stare. “Your father isn't home. Everyone else is at school. I'm taking care of you and this is what you're supposed to do when humans get sick.”

“Who told you that? Smothering humans is bad, Derek! Bad! Horrible, awful! It's murder, in fact! And what's it to you, anyway?”

“....You're useful. If you die or end up in the hospital, you become useless.” Derek said, averting his eyes.

“Gee, I so feel the love...” Stiles said, dryly. He also didn't buy it, but he was more concerned with the immediate problem rather than Derek's lying. Because the immediate problem effected Stiles more!

Derek didn't respond to that. “I'll make you soup...” he was sure he could at least figure out condensed canned soup. He wasn't exactly a gourmet chef or anything, but he could feed himself reasonably well.

“Soup! No, I'm hot enough as it is. And I'm not hungry anyway.”

“Loss of appetite isn't a good sign...” Derek said, wondering if he should try to get Stiles to keep a thermometer in his mouth. Maybe it would also keep him quiet for a few minutes...

“No, that's normal! I need to sleep to get better, but I can't do that if I'm dying of heat exhaustion and scratching myself to death because of these awful blanket choices!”

Derek simply grunted, a noncommittal noise that basically said he wasn't buying it and didn't care. Okay, so Stiles had gotten better at understanding Derek Speak. So what?

“Where are you getting all of this sound medical advice from anyway?” Stiles tried again. The fact that Derek refused to answer this question at all so far was really curious to him. Also, very worrying.

“Nowhere.”

“That explains a lot.” Stiles answered, rolling his eyes.

“I...I got it from television, okay??” Derek insisted, growling even. This was Derekian for impending embarrassment.

Recently, Derek had moved the pack to a more appropriate and modern venue with actual electricity and running water. He had also installed a television set, which actually got more use from other pack members than from Derek himself.

“Uh...right. What show? Untold Stories of the ER? Because, I'm pretty sure that when they talk about smothering people it's a bad thing.”

“I am not smothering you!” Derek yelled, slamming a pot down onto the stove top with a bit more force than necessary. He frowned at the noise it made and actually lifted it up to make sure he didn't bend the burner. He hadn't.

Stiles found it suspicious when he moved to another burner. And got out a different pot.

“Are you tearing up the kitchen?”

“No!” Derek's answer was a lot more defensive than it needed to be. Translation: Yes.

“Derek!”

“Shut up! Let me fucking take care of you!”

Stiles was actually rendered speechless at the way Derek put that. But, it only lasted two minutes, and that was a generous time estimation.

“So, what show are you--” Stiles started, but didn't get further than that.

Derek mumbled something, the growl in his voice obscuring it even further. Stiles had to strain to listen and still didn't understand him.

“What?” he asked, when Derek didn't seem to be interested in clarifying on his own.

Derek opened the can, dumped in the contents, ran the water and dumped in a can of that, turning the burner on and found a spoon to stir with.

“Derek!” Stiles prompted, figuring Big Daddy Werewolf wasn't going to answer him.

“Grey's Anatomy!!” he yelled, because dammit Stiles was annoying!

“Gr--” Stiles was pretty sure his brain went offline for a few seconds before he started laughing.

“Shut up!”

“I-I'm sorry, but...I had no idea you even watched that show!”

“I don't!” he growled, wishing he could throw the pot but he already knew he'd be the one to clean the damn mess.

“But, you just said--”

“Isaac and Erica watch it...” he grumbled, occupying himself with stirring the pot. Sullenly. Sullenly stirring his pot of golden noodles and chicken water.

Stiles was thrown into hysterics again.

The spoon went flying across the kitchen, splattering the wall and counter.

Stiles didn't stop laughing.