"(Y/n)! You are not answering your phone, and I know the answering machine is in your room, so I called the landline. Anyway! You're kinda worrying me right now. Please, please, please, call me back."
You sighed. You were absolutely, horribly, terribly sick. Your boyfriend, Stiles, has called you thirty-two times.
All of me loves all of you.
Make that thirty-three. That was your ringtone for Stiles. You groaned. You did not feel like getting out of bed. Your phone was so far away on the other side of the room. You reached out your arm, wishing you had the Force or something.
Sorry, whoever called me. That was the landline. I am currently away or just don't wanna leave my bed. Leave a message if you want.
"(Y/n)! Seriously, you are starting to worry me!"
Thirty-four.
You groaned and dragged yourself out of bed. You took your landline phone and answered, "Stiles."
"Are you ok?!"
"I'm fine, Stiles."
"You don't sound ok. Are you sick?"
"Maybe."
"I'm coming over!"
Before you could remind him that he needed to go to school today, he hung up. You groaned. You crawled back into bed and closed your eyes. You loved Stiles; you really do. However, when you get sick, he tends to go a little overboard.
You swear it has only been two, three tops, minutes when Stiles comes into your house, shouting, "(Y/n)!"
"Up here!" You coughed right after. It hurt to shout.
Stiles bounded up the stairs. "No talking. You sound really bad." Your boyfriend sat on your bed. "But don't worry! I have some good frozen yogurt and I brought movies! I have Stars Wars, all six, we also have some cartoon Batman, live-action Batman, Spiderman, Avengers. All the good stuff." Each item he listed, he pulled out of his backpack. "I hope you like my choices. I could get, more of course. You know, if you want. You want popcorn?"
You opened your mouth to say something.
"Never mind that. No talking with that sore throat of yours. Anyway, is it a cold? What are the symptoms? Do you have a headache? Do you need medicine?" He paused and stared at you. "It must have been because we were in the rain yesterday with that blue-clawed, talon thing." He groaned. "I should've given you my plaid shirt or something or-"
You placed your hand on his. "Stiles," you croaked, "I'll be ok."
He looked at your hand on his and grinned a little. "Don't you worry one bit, (Y/n). I'll take care of you the entire time you're sick. Oh, unless your parents come home and see-"
You shook your head. "School, Stiles."
"Ok, (Y/n). The way I look at it is that both of us have no school, time with each other, and movies. Now, what could beat that? Plus, you are more important than school." He beamed. "Everyone wins! Teachers don't have to deal with me. We have Stiles and (Y/n) time, and we have no work to do." Stiles paused. "I should cook you soup!" Your boyfriend stood up and waved his hands around extravagantly. "I'll make your favorite! It'll be piping hot chicken soup with some chopped up vegetables and chicken and everything!"
As he walked out your bedroom door, you asked, "Do you know how to make soup, Stiles?"
There was a pause of silence. Your boyfriend stuck his head into your room. "What about some Ramen?"
You gave him a thumbs-up.
Stiles smiled. "I love you, (Y/n)."
"I love you, too, Stiles."
He beamed. He loved hearing that. He stayed there for a while just smiling at you. Stiles gasped. "Ramen!" He rushed downstairs.
You shook your head. You know, Stiles going overboard wasn't really as bad as you thought.