Author's Note:
Be sure to check out my other story! QOTD: How often do you like me to update? I worry about doing it too often or even not enough.
You leaned back against the headboard to your bed, pulling the covers up over your cold body. You glanced at the thermos of chicken noodle soup on the nightstand, contemplating reaching for it. You ultimately decided not to.
Yeah, it had been a pretty eventful day. You were home sick. Your family was at work, and your friends were at school. None of them had responded to your texts, as they were still in class.
You heard the door open downstairs, and the sound of footsteps followed. No one was supposed to be home yet, so you immediately assumed that their was a masked murder in the house, and dove under the bed. You clutched your aching stomach and stayed silent as the Mute.
The footsteps walked up to the doorway, and stopped. You could see nothing but their black combat boots.
"[Y/N]?" It was Scott.
"Oh, hey," you crawled out from under the bed. "What are you doing here?"
"I got your text: 'Help. I'm dying.' I came to check on you. Why were you under the bed?"
You burrowed back under the cushions, and grabbed the soup from the nightstand. "I meant dying as in of sickness and boredom. And I was under the bed because you scared me. Could have knocked."
"You would want me to knock if you were actually dying?" Scott smirked, sitting on the end of the bed.
"Shut up," you whined.
"I guess I can't go back to school now," he said. "Which tragically leaves me here with you... looking more beautiful than ever."
"Shut up," you repeated. If you were to make a list of things you hadn't been able to do yet, it would include not showering, not brushing your hair, not changing out of your pajamas, not brushing your teeth, not putting on makeup and so much more.
"Seriously. You still look beautiful."
"I do?" You talked with a mouth full of soupy noodles.
Scott moved next to you and put his arm over your shoulder. "You could never be anything but beautiful."
"I'm touched," you sniffled, dramatically putting your hand to your heart.
Scott took your moment of sarcastic distraction as an opportunity to kiss you. You pulled back immediately.
"Scott, I'm gonna get you sick," you said.
"I'm a werewolf," he smiled.
"Oh, yeah."
You kissed him again, and loved him for forgiving your chicken noodle breath.
