bakerstreet | The Sick Day Meme

{Happy to be the sickee or the one looking after someone.}

[She should probably feel badly when she finds out that Stiles is sick — really sick, actually — subsequent to their day spent mostly in the rain, arguing than out of it to dry off. ...but she doesn't. At least, that's what she tells herself when she knocks on the front door and gives the sheriff her most charming smile and a small plate of brownies that she went through a lot of effort to...create the illusion that they weren't store-bought, because Dara couldn't bake if her life depended on it. She thinks to herself in passing that if Stiles was a girl and she was a guy, there's no way that would've worked, but the sheriff seems to like Dara these days and he lets her in without hesitation, gesturing toward the stairs to indicate that Stiles is up in his room asleep.

Given she's never actually been sick herself and neither has anyone in her family, Dara's not really sure what she needs to help Stiles. ...so she spent almost an hour at the grocery store in the pharmaceuticals aisle and, okay, she might have gone a little overboard. She appreciates that the sheriff didn't ask questions about the three plastic bags full of crap she barely knows the use for when she starts up the stairs with them. ...so maybe she feels a little bad about him getting sick.

Dara knocks on the bedroom door a couple of times, not for a request but as a warning, before she opens the door slowly and peeks in.]

Stiles...?

[Stiles is lying on his stomach, head over the side of the bed where a bucket is sitting, tissues littering the bedside table, the bed, the floor-- She'll likely be able to smell the lingering scent from the last time he'd thrown up, but it would hopefully be mild since his dad had cleaned out the bucket since then. It was just there. Just in case.

Two mugs of barely touched tea were amid the army of tissues on the table, cold by now and a film on the top that wasn't about to be broken by Stiles trying to drink them. Half a bottle of water was beside them, most of its contents having been forcibly ejected not long after being consumed.

He groaned, opening one eye when he heard a female voice. She swam in front of him -- or maybe that was his vision.]

Nnng.

[Dara hasn't even let herself all the way into the room before the scent of sickness hits her like a ton of bricks and she presses her lips together, brow knit. Okay, now she really can't deny that she feels bad, she just does.

Making her way further into the room, Dara curls her fingers around the back of Stiles' rolling desk chair and drags it over toward the bed, dropping down onto it.]

That's all? Nnng? No lecture about how this is totally my fault? Who are you and what did you do with the real Stiles Stilinski?

Y'rflt.

[There, see? He'd made an effort to blame her, but the words had come out sort of smooshed together. She could figure it out, right? Right.

He tried to track her with his one open eye when she moved, but his vision blurred and he closed it, another groan leaving him.]

[With a roll of her eyes, Dara smiles a little. Eh, she figures, it was worth a shot. He must be feeling especially awful if he can't even take the invite she's given him to lecture her. At least, not any further than a mumble that's close but misses the mark for lack of energy behind it.

Dara leans forward a little, her elbows on her knees and she reaches over with one hand to feel his head. He's hotter than normal, but maybe not quite burning up, so to speak. She's careful to keep her voice down to keep from hurting him if he has a headache, especially since she knows the worst kind come packaged with a sensitivity to light and sound. She's never experienced one, but she doesn't have to to have observed it in humans.]

What can I do to help?

[The answer to that was another groan, eye slitted half open as he turned it up towards her. How could she make it better? She could have started with not standing out in the rain, for one. That might have prevented this whole nightmare. In fact, he was pretty sure he wouldn't have spent the entire evening puking into a bucket if he hadn't spent the previous one freezing his ass off on her balcony.]

Mrf.

[Because that was an answer.]

[Dara frowns. Maybe this was a bad idea. No, it probably was a bad idea, coming over here. First off, she's admitting she's wrong and Dara just...doesn't do that. And second, he's either too pissed at her or too sick to give a crap that she's there, anyway. She's keeping him awake when he should be resting and wasting her energy to boot because he's checked out right now.

She stands up again, starting to push the chair back toward the desk.]

Right...okay, well. Maybe I should let you rest, then. There's a bunch of stuff in the bags...I don't know what they do, but hopefully at least something in there will help.

Stuff?

[She'd brought him stuff? Why had she brought him stuff? What sort of stuff? He made an effort to try to turn his head and look at what seemed like bags on the ground.]

Stuff...?

I don't know, sick human stuff...

[Of course that would bring him around. Go figure.]

I don't know what it does, but there's some medicines in there, like...something called Vapo-Rub, some tissues, a couple of books, a bunch of stuff, Stiles, I don't know.

[The phrase 'sick human stuff' got a snort out of him, his hand reaching for one of the bags and trying to pull it close.]

Should study people stuff. If you have people friends.

I'm not gonna study "people stuff" for one human friend, isn't that what Scott's for? Seeing as how he was one, before?

[She shrugs again and averts her eyes a little because Stiles is probably right; he usually is. That doesn't mean she likes admitting it.]

[He tries not to show that maybe he was a little hurt that one human friend wasn't enough of a reason to care about them. He covered it by looking down into the bag and rifling around until he came out with a package of Halls.]

Hey, you got the mint ones. I like the mint ones.

[Seeing as how he's suddenly more engaged in the conversation having realized she brought him "stuff," Dara brings the chair back to the side of the bed and drops down onto it again. She gives a weak smile at his comment about the Halls.]

And cherry. And honey and lemon. And I think also something called Tropical Wave. What the hell do they do, anyway? Is this sick people candy? I don't get it.

Don't you read the labels? They're cough drops. They help with sore throats and coughing and stuff.

[Not that he was at the coughing stage or the sore throat stage, though he was starting to get a bit raw from throwing up.]

Yes, Stiles, I read the label. It doesn't make sense to me how candy makes you stop coughing.

[She makes a face at him, even though her tone is serious; she literally doesn't understand the concept of small candy-looking pieces of whatever they actually are being at all conducive to make someone better.]

It's a lozenge. It had cough syrup in it? And menthol and stuff. Werewolves suck. I wish there was a werewolf flu so you could feel my pain.

[Dara's expression is mildly interested and marginally impressed. That's handy, she thinks to herself. More convenient than carrying around a bottle of the stuff she'd grabbed that apparently does the exact same thing. Well, that feels like wasted money, now.]

Sorry.

[She isn't; she's glad there's no werewolf flu, thank you very much.]

Is there anything I can do to help? Honestly?

Do you have some sort of werewolf magic to make this go away? Because if not... I don't think so.

[He shifted on the bed a little, trying to move onto his side so he could look at her without his head spinning.]

[Pouting a little with empathy, Dara shakes her head and reaches forward to feel his forehead. He's burning up.]

Only if it hurts. I can take that...

No...

[It did hurt. It hurt a lot. But her taking it would just mean she'd be in pain and as much as maybe it was a little bit her fault... he didn't hold it against her. Not like that.]

I can take it.

[Dara lifts an eyebrow at the uptick in his heartbeat, however weak it is. She moves her hand to cup the side of his face, veins going black.]

Liar. I'm sorry if this is because of the rain...

Hey...

[He reaches up a hand to grab her wrist, eyes going wide as he feels the aches and pain leaving him.]

I told you not to do that. Jerk.

[Dara's eyes close a little and she winces as she feels the initial onslaught of the ache deep in her bones. It fades in time for more to roll over her, but it's not as bad for her as she's sure it is for him.]

Ah, quitcher bitchin. I'm helping.

[Once her veins stop running black, Dara sits back with a small groan, giving her body a minute to battle the pain before it's gone. She lets out a huff and looks back at Stiles.]

God, Stiles, is that how humans always feel when they get sick? That sucks.

[He couldn't do anything to stop her and he wouldn't deny that it did help with the pain. He still felt nauseous and dizzy, but the headache was dramatically lessened as well as the rest of his aches.]

Depends on what kind of sick you are. The flu's always been a rough one for me.

Stiles Stilinski | Teen Wolf | OTA

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