Chapter 19 - Thomas Worships The Porcelain God

Well, the peace was nice while it lasted but was Minho even the least bit surprised when he woke up what couldn't have been more than an hour or two later to crushing panic and an empty bed? No. Not really.

"Thomas!" Minho hissed into the quiet, trying to push back the smothering fear bubbling up inside his chest as he cast his gaze around the darkened room, scrambling upright in a matter of seconds as he threw the covers off his body and slammed his feet to the cold wooden floor below. When no audible response came, a dangerous snarl rumbled through the wolf's chest despite Minho's greatest attempt to reign in his agitated monster as he sniffed the air, throwing normalcy and subtlety right out the window in his panic as the wolf was too concerned with locating his cherished human to worry about anything so unimportant - Everything was unimportant in comparison to protecting Thomas.

There was no unfamiliar scent tainting the blissful aroma of Thomas and his combined smell, assuring Minho that nothing had come to steal his mate from him in his sleep and, with this knowledge slightly soothing his vengeful beast, the lycan forced his brain to start constructing logical solutions and actual plans rather than just the endless cycle of Missing. Protect. Fucking Kill. Missing. Protect... that ran endlessly through his mind and left little room for much else.

A low groan, small and miserable, sounded in the darkened room as Minho strained his ears to catch some sort of audial indication of Thomas's presence, searching for a heartbeat or a soft breath and finally finding it all as he focused his senses on that one sound and fixated on it until he could finally make out the familiar noises that indicated his love was nearby. Relief crashed over the wolf in a wave as he stumbled blindly towards the noise, the sound having come from the private bathroom attached to their own room, the door to which was left slightly ajar to let a thin sliver of light into the blackness of the bedroom, the glowing light casting an eerie pale sheen on the floor outside the bathroom.

"Thomas!" Minho hissed into the darkness once more, just hoping his eyes weren't lighting up like a fucking neon sign as he pushed the door open the rest of the way and shouldered his way through the gap as soon as it was large enough, his pushy wolf desperate to see his mate, needing to touch him and assure himself the boy was safe.

"Minho." Came a quiet response as the wolf finally shoved his way into the bathroom, but the o on the end of the word drug out into a low groan, a pained noise that went straight to the concerned werewolf's heart and instantly ignited the desire to coddle and comfort inside the beast.

The explanation as to why this unhappy noise dared force its way from his mate's lips soon became apparent as, the moment Minho stepped inside the small, brightly lit room, Thomas ducked his head low over the shimmering porcelain toilet positioned near the door and promptly began hurling into it. Ah. That would explain things.

"Oh, Thomas." Minho whispered sympathetically, having absolutely nothing else to say to offer any solace to his suffering sweetheart as he tentatively padded across the room to his where his friend slumped over toilet. The werewolf hesitated just to the side of his companion, unsure of how to offer comfort at a time like this or if the boy even actually wanted to be touched as Thomas let out a low groan and lifted his head from the toilet bowl once more.

"Oh god, Min, please just kill me." Thomas groaned miserably, reaching up a shaky hand to flush away the disgusting mess before sagging defeatedly into the floor, looking like he might very well be classified as "sad liquid" before human being with real, actual bones.

"Such a drama queen." Minho joked chidingly, though he kept his voice soft and gentle as he crouched down beside his companion on the tile floor.

"I am no such thing! If your organs were on fire, you'd be complaining too!" Thomas scoffed defensively but there was a light laugh underlying his words as the human leaned heavily into his Keeper's side and rested his head against the wolf's shoulder, his hazel orbs drifting closed.

Minho let his eyes trail over the kid as they sat like that for a moment, taking in the paler than usual tones of his companion's exquisite skin and the absolutely exhausted look about his friend, all half-lidded eyes and pink lips parted in strained pants. The teen's paper white cheeks were streaked with a harsh splatter of vibrant red and a film of sweat decorated the top of the brunette's forehead

The boy's wolf whined unhappily, displeased by its mate's discomfort and inherit inability to do anything to ease his fragile human's suffering, his cool werewolfy pain pulling trick apparently not designed for sickness as the wolf's attempt at it did naught but leave him awkwardly holding Thomas's hand with no real explanation.

This being said, Minho was more than a little hurt when his mate pulled his hand back, silently scolding himself for being upset over something so foolish, it wasn't like Thomas had any real reason to want to hold hands with him so he really shouldn't be surprised. However, there was no denying the tumbling wave of relief that swept over the lycan when he found the only reason his mate had tugged his hand away was to grip the toilet as he went in for round two of "Will Thomas manage to keep anything in his stomach?"

Minho grimaced distastefully at the display as his favorite human heaved into the porcelain bowl, the brunette's small frame wracked with the heavy convulsions as a horrible gagging sound forced its way through the kid's throat, the very sight quite near making Minho loose his own lunch. The werewolf reached up tentatively and only hesitated a moment before resting a large hand in the center of his companion's back, beginning to rub slow circles between the boy's wide shoulders in hopes of easing his love some as the brunette's body shuddered violently under his fingertips.

"Minho!" Thomas practically whimpered when he finally stopped gagging and pulled back from the toilet, his voice nothing more than a needy whine as if he half expected the wolf to somehow grow magic fingers and alleviate him of this pain with a simple touch. (Would that really be super unlikely though, really? I mean, really, Minho could smell emotions for fucks sake, magic fingers should be a piece of cake.)

"Shh, baby." Minho shushed softly, tugging the miserable brunette into his side as the teen reached up to flush the toilet, not wanting his sick boy to have to move any more than absolutely necessary nor really bothering to watch his tongue any longer - Thomas had already heard the wolf slip up and call him baby before, what was one, or two, or sixty-seven more times?

"I told Stiles wrong, Minho!" Thomas practically wailed, clutching his arms tightly around his stomach and slamming his head into the werewolf's shoulder. "I, most definitely, do NOT love froyo!" The brunette informed certainly, groaning pathetically afterwards as if his organs were intent on proving his point.

"When did you even get your hands on froyo?" Minho huffed exasperatedly, totally not wanting to know so he could go dismember whatever unfortunate fair vendor had served his mate a bad batch of cold dessert.

"Stiles remembered that I had never had any, so when you and Derek were having your big dick battle with the fair games we went and got some." Thomas explained, leaning back so he was talking to all of Minho instead of just the wolf's shoulder blade. "He disappeared for, like, two minutes and when he came back, he had froyo. It was insane, I never even knew people could make food that fast." The brunette mused thoughtfully, looking wistful and regretful all at once, like frozen yogurt was about to be his new Apple of Eden, a forbidden delicacy he would always crave but could never have. (Oh yeah, Minho could totally relate there.)

"We were not having a big dick battle!" Minho scoffed defensively with a roll of his dark eyes, though he couldn't find it in himself to be the least bit miffed about the comment when Thomas was looking at least a little better than he had two minutes ago, some actual color presenting itself in the brunette's pale cheeks and his wonderful smell losing some of its miserable bite.

Though Thomas's intoxicating scent did still maintain a harsh, acidic edge of sickness to it that made his wolf whine to smell and sorta sparked the desire to run his tongue all over his companion's face as if this would somehow alleviate, or at least soothe, his mate. His wolf apparently had no idea that modern medicine was a thing - Magic tongues only in Wolfy's world.

"Testosterone tournament? Cock challenge? Manhood match?" Thomas listed off snydly, his pink lips curled up in a pleased smirk and his hazel eyes glimmering amusedly as Minho shoved him playfully, the brunette falling slightly to the side from their crouched position but catching himself with his arm before he could hit the floor - Not that Minho wouldn't have reached out and caught him if there were any real risk of that happening.

"You really are a stupid shank." Minho scoffed dryly before hooking an arm under his friend's shoulder and beginning to guide the brunette upright, not really keen on spending the rest of the night on the cold bathroom floor when they could totally be cuddling (Fuck yes. Minho was gonna cuddle that boy so hard. Screw embarrassment. Tell normalcy to suck a dick. His mate was unwell and Minho would be damned if he wasn't about to cuddle the shit outta his sweet little human) in a warm bed, thank you very much.

"Fine. Fine." Thomas huffed dismissively with a wave of his hand, letting Minho drag him to his feet but leaning heavily into his companion once the teen was standing. "Ball battle." The sweet yet snarky thing huffed under his breath but Minho chose to ignore that, merely opting to let out a short snort of a laugh and all but ignore the inner celebration his mind was throwing in honor of Thomas's happier mood, his heart informing him that someone had literally exploded a confetti cannon in his chest and now the specks of neon paper stuck to every available surface, never to truly be clean again.

The werewolf carefully urged his boy over to the counter with the sink in the middle of it, moving slowly so as not to unsettle Thomas's momentarily pacified stomach as the brunette shuffled obediently after him, letting himself be guided without much protest or even so much as a question. Even when the teen wrapped his arms around the smaller boy and lifted him up onto the ceramic surface, the younger teen failed to comment, letting himself be maneuvered wherever his companion pleased and apparently trusting Minho to take care of him - The notion of course absolutely decimating the lycan's ability to maintain a normal heart rate and signing him up for death by heart attack at the age of seventeen.

Minho grabbed the hand towel hanging on the wall near the sink, a dark blue rag made of some particularly soft material that passed Minho's quick inspection of Mate-worthiness before the wolf turned the handle of the faucet to the warm side and a light stream of water burst forth from the spicket. The boy waited a moment then stuck a finger under the softly falling liquid, assessing the temperature and opting to turn the knob a little bit more towards the cold side before sticking the corner of his towel underneath it, not wanting to scald his mate.

Once satisfied that the cloth was significantly damp and met Wolfy's high standard of proper temperature, (the creature apparently thought if the water was even a bit too hot, Thomas would experience third degree burns) Minho flicked the faucet off and pulled back to stand in front of his companion. The boy then dabbed the wet cloth gently against the side of his mate's mouth, wiping away any remnants of barf that still lingered with careful slowness, his movements light and cautious as if the slightest upset would send Thomas into another hurling episode.

Thomas sat complacently through the whole ordeal, his hazel eyes drifting halfway closed as if the whole experience had left him drained and Minho legitimately worried there was a pretty decent chance of the younger teen passing out right there on the sink. However, the brunette's hand did manage to find the arm the wolf wasn't using to wash his face but rather had braced on the other side of Thomas lest the boy actually doze off to prevent any falling from sinks that may occur. The smaller boy wrapped his fingers about the limb in a loose grip, gently rubbing his thumb against the teen's skin as if attempting to reassure the lycan despite the fact that Thomas had been the one crouched over a toilet bowl heaving like his body was attempting to actually expel his entire stomach through his mouth.

Though, the action did actually sooth the anxious werewolf some, the repetitive action and constant contact relaxing his disgruntled beast to the point where Minho was at least able to accept the fact that Thomas most likely wasn't dying as his paranoid brain decided the slightest ailment indicated. Enough so that by the time the boy had grabbed a cup from the counter and filled it with cool water, all he really wanted to do was scoop his boy into his arms and bundle him back off to bed where they both belonged, tangled about each other in the indulgent night time cuddles Minho decided he was allowed - Obviously wrapping himself about his mate would allow him to know the moment anything disturbed his precious charge and tonight was a perfect example of why that was absolutely necessary.

"Swish and spit." Minho directed quietly, holding the cup out to Thomas who merely gave a small grunt of agreement before doing as he was told, making a low sound of disgust and sticking his tongue out in an over exaggerated gag as soon as he pulled his head back up from the action.

The werewolf dabbed one of the dry parts of the towel against his friend's lips before finally giving in to his selfish desires and collecting his companion up in his arms, though he couldn't be bothered to feel guilty about his indulgence when Thomas so readily tangled his long arms about the teen's shoulders and snuggled his face into the lycan's neck with a contented sigh that tickled the sensitive skin there. Minho moved them back to the bed with relative ease, werewolf agility and all that being pretty damn useful when it came to carrying pretty boys to your bed to mate them- Wait. No, Wolfy, pump the breaks on that thought.

Fighting back any lewd ideas that may come from the picture, Minho lay Thomas back into his usual spot in the bed and gently untangled himself from the boy long enough to climb in himself, trying not to actually coo at the sleep slurred protest Thomas gave at having his arms placed on the bed rather than on Minho. The wolf shimmied under the blankets a moment later only to instantly have a clingy Thomas all but encircling him the moment he was in arms reach once more, long arms worming their way around the werewolf's torso and gangly gazelle legs thrown haphazardly over the Keeper's own limbs.

Some sort of pleased rumble that was definitely more wolf than human verberated through the teen's chest as he wrapped his own arms around his mate and selfishly pulled the smaller boy against his chest, before burying his nose deep into the crook of his companion's neck and breathing in that wonderful, sweet tinged scent of home, fully indulging in the bliss that was sleepy, cuddly Thomas.

Maybe, the wolf even let himself be a little bit hopeful when Thomas mumbled out "You take such good care of me, Min," into the darkness of their room.