"How about fell down the stairs and got a concussion?" he suggests, practically, and because there's no question that Stiles was concussed. He doesn't like it when Stiles pulls away, but he makes himself let him go and drops his hand reluctantly. The press of Stiles' calf is some comfort and reassurance, and he's not even thinking again when his hand shifts to settle, warm and large, over Stiles' ankle instead.

Contact is good. It's not the same as the whole pack being together, but even just being with the Alpha should be enough to help at least a little. He stays there for just a moment before settling slowly next to Stiles. Not too close, but stretched out on the bed, still holding loosely to his ankle. "You need to sleep, you can't heal properly if you're not getting any rest."