Work Text:
“Hey Mom.”
“Jesus Scott.”
Melissa presses a hand to her chest as she attempts to calm herself from the small scare. Scott gives her an apologetic grin from his spot on her bed. There’s a laptop resting on his thighs, and most of her blankets have been piled on the curled up figure next to him. A pale hand weakly raises from the lump of blankets to wave at her.
“Hey Ms. McCall.”
Stiles.
She sighs softly setting her stuff down and making her way to the bed. She doesn’t even need to question their actions. It’s been years, but even she can remember all the times the two of them had coming running to her bed in the middle of the night due to a nightmare or some medical emergency. How many times she sleepy clutched two panicked boys against her, or rushed from her bed to a shout for help. How many times Scott struggled to breath as she held him through the night with Stiles right next to her, small hands trembling as he kept a silent vigil over her son until finally passing out himself. How many times she found Stiles hiding amongst her covers crying because his “brain wouldn’t make sense,” something bad he thought he had done, or because of something that had happened while visiting his mother in the hospital.
Her bed was like a strange sanctuary to them. Whenever one or both of them felt bad, or off, or just need a moment it was where they would go.
“Hey Sweetheart.” She sits next to Stiles reaching to press lightly at his forehead. Stiles is paler than usual, curled up against her son with his head resting against Scott’s side, and a hospital basin clutched against his own. The basin seems to be awkwardly pressing against her son’s side, but Scott doesn’t seem to care as he keeps a supportive arm around his best friend.
“He’s got a slight fever, but I checked about twenty minutes ago and it was still under 100.” She nods at her son.
“Alright. Has he taken anything?”
“Not exactly. We tried some Tylenol, but he threw it back up.” Stiles gives a tired nod in agreement.
“Alright, and fluids?” Scott gestures to a few water bottles on the bed side table. “He’s been able to keep some water down, but we haven’t tried food since this morning.” Stiles groans at this, looking a bit paler at the mention of food. She make note of this deciding to leave him alone for now on the matter, but later tonight see if she could at least get some crackers into him. Then some Tylenol; especially if his fever shows any signs of rising.
She gives her son a pat on the head before rising and quickly going about taking a shower, and changing into some more comfortable clothes before joining her two boys back on the bed. She presses up against Stiles’s back and reaches up to pet at the boy’s hair like she knows he likes. Stiles makes a soft pleased noise, and mumbles something to her. On the laptop screen Scott has their favorite childhood movie, The Fox and Hound, playing.
She can’t help but smile and laugh as they recite the dialogue during their favorite scenes. The same lines they’ve been reciting since they were babies. Scott’s voice is so much older though, worn with age and the stress of the past couple years. Stiles just sounds so tired and sick. They seem happy though. Curled up and safe in the one spot she’d managed to heal them time and time again.