Peter frowned at the steaming mug that John held out.
"It's supposed to help," John said, sounding too doubtful for Peter's comfort.
Peter took a small sniff, and reared back.
"Yeah, it smells like something died," John gave a small grin. "But Stiles promised it's safe."
"I dun think so," Peter croaked. Then sneezed.
John sat on the edge of the bed and sighed. "I know you feel like crap, and that you're not used to it. But it's been a long day, I'm too tired to baby you any more through whatever this wolf-y flu is, and this will make you better. I need you to drink this!"
"Woof-y?" Peter was confused.
John shrugged. "Of all of that, that's what you get? Geez. That's what Stiles called it."
Peter sneezed again. "Oh, all right." He held out a hand.
"Take it in one go, is what I was told," John said.
Peter took a breath and used that to drink down the foul liquid as quickly as he could. He thrust the empty mug back at John. "Blech...that's just awful!" He looked like he wanted to wipe his tongue on his sleeve.
"Okay, we have to wait like ten minutes before you can take anything else," John said. "That will let me get out of this uniform, and make you a proper cup of tea."
"This is goin' to be the longest ten minnits of my life," Peter rasped.
"I know, I know," John soothed. He ran his hand up and down Peter's leg, Peter moving to lean more into even that basic touch. "I'll be back."
"Promise?" Peter whined.
"Promise!" John replied. "Rest."
"Okay, okay." Peter yawned.
John took off his uniform, throwing the stale clothes into the laundry basket, and put on sweatpants and a t-shirt. He took the mug into the kitchen, started the kettle for more hot water. As he waited, he heated up the leftover meatloaf Stiles had sent -- well, he knew it wasn't beef, but Derek had gotten good at making whatever it was taste pretty dame good -- and ate a few bites before the water boiled.
Freshly brewed lemongrass tea smelled much better than the concoction from earlier and John took a satisfying sniff as he took it to Peter.
He stood in the doorway to the bedroom, only to see that Peter was -- finally -- sound asleep.
John took the mug back to the kitchen, drank the tea to wash down the rest of the now lukewarm meal and turned off the lights.
Peter didn't stir as he climbed into bed.