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Summary
Stiles was sick. Not just I’ve got a little bit of a cough sick but full on oh god, can’t open eyes, can’t move, can’t talk, just want to die sick. His room was covered in dirty tissues and smelt of sick. Great. His dad had tried to do something about it before he went to work but ran out of time and so now Stiles was curled up in a bed full of sickness and sorrow. He’d tried doing some more research but the laptop had been too bright for him and he’d had to turn it off. So now he was stuck in bed, bored and feeling sorry for himself. The only plausible option was sleep.
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