Mark Me Yours [Omegaverse]

I Want You to Need Me

"Sorry I bohthrd yu a' wurk... Wha'd I owe you...?" Ryan moved to take the bag from Scott.

"Oh. No. You. Don't." Scott held the bag out of Ryan's reach. "Let me in. We're taking your temperature right now."

"But I don' hava..."

"I bought you one. Now, come on."

Scott spun Ryan around by the shoulders and walked him in to the apartment. It was Scott's first time seeing it, and he would have marveled at how someone could live in a space so small, but there was a more pressing issue at the moment. He guided Ryan over to the bed. "Sit," he commanded, using a little downward force to get his point across.

Ryan obeyed. "Sorry," he murmured.

Scott put the bag on the only other free surface in the room, the tiny "kitchen" counter. He noticed he shirt he'd lent Ryan last week occupied the counter as well, laundered and neatly folded. His parents' empty tupperware was on top of it. He dug the thermometer out and put a slipcover on it. On the television, CSI reruns were playing. It was an odd counterpoint. He turned back to Ryan. "Open." His tone was firm.

Once again, Ryan complied, and put the thermometer under his tongue. Scott was being different from the way he usually was. Was he mad? Part of Ryan wanted to watch the numbers on the thermometer keep going up, but the other part knew it had to keep an eye on Scott. An angry alpha was bad news.

The thermometer beeped. Triple digits flashed on its tiny screen. Scott took it from Ryan's mouth to check the reading, his lips pressed to a thin line. Ryan watched his every movement, pulling his blanket tighter around his shoulders. Scott raised his hand up and ran his fingers through his hair, sighing loudly. Ryan flinched away. Scott was definitely mad. How could he not be mad?

"I'msorry...Plhease don' be mad at me..." Ryan was practically trembling.

"I'm not mad at you? Why would I be-?" Was he scared? In an instant, Scott was crouched down in front of Ryan, with his hands on his boyfriend's knees. "Babe, why do you think I'd be mad? It's not your fault you're sick."

Ryan didn't answer. He didn't have an answer. Well, he did, but it didn't feel like it made much sense. Or, maybe it did? He couldn't tell anymore. He was supposed to be able to handle things on his own after all. He should be able to take care of himself. He shouldn't have to bother others for a moment of weakness. Scott cupped Ryan's clammy face with his hand. Ryan leaned in to it, closing his eyes. Right, why should Scott be mad?

"Yur hands' nice'n cold... Feels gud..."

Scott rubbed Ryan's cheek with his thumb. "You're running a pretty bad fever. I'm going to give you some meds, then I'm taking you back to my place, okay?"

"M'kay..."

Ryan didn't want Scott to take his gloriously cool hand away, but he knew he had to. Scott dosed out the Pepto-Bismol first. Ryan gratefully downed the thick liquid, grimacing slightly at the taste. Next was the ibuprofen. Scott took the cap of the Gatorade bottle and handed it over along with two pills.

"Two? Ish usuly jus one..."

"Take both. Doctor's orders."

Ryan took the pills without any further complaint. Doctor's orders, after all. Scott sat next to him on the bed and began rubbing his back. Ryan sipped at his drink.

"Okay Hot Stuff, check up time. You've got to tell me what's wrong so I can help. How long have you been feeling bad?"

"Hot Stuff...?" Ryan chuckled weakly.