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5:23 you still coming? reservation at 6
Yeah mate
your boy too?
Louis looked over at the bed where he saw Harry pulling on a pair of thick socks before wiping his runny nose on the cuff of his jumper. It tugged on his heart to see how hard Harry worked to fix himself up, to be ready for dinner with Louis’ friends while he was feeling quite awful. His staticky hair was tamed into a reasonable excuse for its normal style, pink cheeks faded by fever reducers, and his exhausted body shrouded in a beautiful knit jumper that was far too expensive to continue being used as a tissue. Harry looked so beautiful clad in lilac, and Louis truly couldn’t wait to show him off to anyone and everyone who would listen... but he wasn’t quite sure the man should be out and about.
It meant a great deal to Harry that Louis’ mates invited both of them to come out for a lads’ night. Knowing that none of the girlfriends or wives would be present, Harry's inclusion as a husband made him feel both a bit nervous and very grateful. He wasn’t the most masculine type, and there was a disconnect between his public and private expressions of gender, but he could brush off the discomfort on account of how nice it felt to be considered just as much a man as the rest of them.
There was no way that he would miss it, Harry told himself. He felt so lucky to be invited that he made sure he would attend, so he brushed off the little sore throat he’d developed two days before. If he ignored it, it would go away.
It certainly hadn’t gone away. Poor Harry became sluggish and sniffly and miserable—nesting in blankets for hours at a time, littering the bedroom floor with tissues, and allowing Louis to dote on him without complaint. His husband nearly begged him to stay home, to wrap up in a dressing gown and take to bed early for the night, but Harry was adamant that he would join. He could do it. If he downed a shot of that nasty berry-flavoured medicine and adequately caffeinated himself, he could easily make it through the evening. Louis wouldn’t allow him to step foot in front of the coffee maker, but he strongly encouraged the disgusting, bright orange syrup by promising a few kisses once it was taken.
The medicine dulled his headache and brightened up his eyes, so Harry was able to slip out of his pyjamas and into a nice outfit. Knowing he’d want to decompress with a shower at the end of the night, Louis deemed him clean enough to go without one, so long as he put on deodorant and fresh clothes.
Harry’s a bit unwell but as long as you don’t mind
Got a little cold but says he’s alright to come
yeah of course idc
see you 2 soon
“You don’t have t’come along, sunshine,” Louis reminded him gently, running fingers through his hair to scratch his scalp and handing him a much-needed tissue to dab at his nose. “Nobody’ll be upset with you. They’ll understand if you’re not well enough to be there.”
“I know, but I want to. If I stay back you’d just be texting me the whole time anyway ‘cos you love to worry over me.” Harry covered a sneeze in the tissue, a pitiful little groan following it. “Ugh, my throat. Sorry — promise I won’t do too much of that.”
“Bless you, beautiful. If you’re sure y’want to, you can come. Take some more medicine ‘fore we go, might help calm your throat.”
“Already did. This is what m’working with tonight.”
As the couple approached the restaurant, Louis turned to look at Harry and slipped a hand on the back of his neck. He stroked the soft, short hairs there before giving his cheek a long kiss, trying to instil some comfort in the man whose anxiety was sure to be picking at him.
“You sure you’re up for this? I could give you the keys, you go on home to rest…”
“Yeah, I’m fi—” Harry stopped in his tracks, physically and vocally, as his sentence switched gears, “—gonna sneeze.”
A deep breath shivered through him before he turned to the side away from Louis, gripping his shoulder for balance as he nearly bent in half with a pair of sneezes that left him breathless.
“Oh, bless you. Cover those inside, love, would you?” Louis teased, knowing that Harry would certainly exercise much better manners when around a group consisting of more people than just his husband.
“Obviously. M’not an animal,” Harry said with a roll of his eyes and another sneeze directed toward the pavement. “Just getting ‘em out while I can.”
The reception to Louis’ arrival was rowdy, to say the least. Every man's head turned and they greeted him simultaneously, half of them getting up to give him a hug or a slap on the back. Wanting to stay out of the way, Harry stood a few steps behind the chaos, though he returned to his husband’s side the moment it died down. A chorus of greetings came for him as well, and he grinned with a little wave.
“Heard you’re not feeling well,” one of the men sympathised, and Harry elbowed Louis with a wide-eyed, exasperated look that made the group laugh as the final two seats at the table were filled.
“Yeah, I’m a bit under the weather. Thanks for still having me, though. I’ll, eh, try to keep my germs to myself,” he promised, and Louis gave his thigh a reassuring squeeze under the table.
When Louis ordered a pint, Harry followed suit despite the disapproving look it got him. He didn’t want to feel out of place, but not more than a few sips could be taken before Harry slid it to his husband. The carbonation was too much for his throat, so Harry sheepishly flagged down the waitress for a cup of green tea. To keep Harry from feeling self-conscious, Louis asked for the glass of water he knew Harry was feeling too shy to request. Though Harry only whispered his thanks when Louis slid it to him, trying to draw no attention to their interaction, Louis didn’t seem too concerned. He slinked his arm around Harry's waist and kissed his cheek, unbothered with showing affection in front of the group.
Louis and Harry looked through the same menu, heads bent together to read the small text as Louis pointed out various dishes that piqued his interest.
“We could share something,” Harry suggested. “Whatever you want, really.”
“You sure?”
“Mhm, not too hungry.” The murmured words caught in his throat, and he couldn't hold back a little cough. Feeling around under the table, Louis located Harry’s hand and gave it a supportive squeeze.
“Alright, sun. You’re okay?”
“M’okay,” Harry confirmed with a little smile, but his pale face and parted lips said otherwise. With his focus still entirely on Harry, Louis tucked a piece of loose hair back into place with an adoring smile before turning back to the conversation when his name was called. Even still, his fingers stayed woven tight through his husband's.
Not long after their arrival, Harry excused himself from the table to blow his nose and loosen up the tightness in his chest with a few harsh coughs in the privacy of the bathroom. The tip of his nose was the faintest shade of pink, but he looked relatively healthy otherwise, though that sadly didn’t last the whole night. Each subsequent visit to the mirror saw Harry looking more run down, and he hoped the dim lighting of the dining area made him come across as far healthier than those stark fluorescent lights had. After his third exit from the table, Harry gave in and brought a few handfuls of toilet tissue back with him to wipe at his nose. As the minutes passed by, Harry found that trying to rein in his coughs and sneezes was nearing impossible. Having Louis on his left and one of the friends seated on his right, Harry had no choice but to duck down between his and Louis' shoulders when his nose got too itchy.
“Did you sneeze on me arm?” Louis asked with an incredulous laugh, and Harry couldn't have looked more apologetic if he tried.
“M’so sorry, honey," he mumbled, scratching his nose on his sleeve. “Rather you than your mates, sorry.”
There was no need to apologise, however, since the fond look on Louis’ face said loud and clear that he couldn’t possibly care less.
“It’s fine, babygirl,” Louis murmured, lips close to Harry's ear to keep their term of endearment private. “Whatever you gotta do.”
Each time he felt Harry turning his way, Louis would only chuckle and rub the man’s back, sharing a quiet blessing whilst Harry wiped Louis’ arm with his sleeve, worrying that he’d accidentally sneezed directly on him.
When his sneezing started becoming more noticeable, much to his chagrin, one of the men got Harry’s attention from across the table and passed him a small packet of tissues. Harry accepted it graciously, cheeks burning red. It was worth the embarrassment, though, since they were far softer on his nose than the scratchy wad of toilet roll in his pocket or the cuff of his sleeve. Between that kind offering and the lozenges he slipped out of Louis’ jacket pocket, Harry managed to keep his cold under relative control for a while.
He did his best to stay involved in the action, reacting to stories and giving responses when spoken to, but Harry didn’t initiate much conversation. In every interaction he had, Harry tried to channel his usual, charming self, but it grew rather draining. He worried that he came off as disinterested and aloof, that he didn’t want to be there, but he hoped the group would understand that his frequent silence was on account of the way words scraped his raw throat, not a lack of desire to engage.
When a loud sneeze came from his right, Louis looked over to see Harry with a sleeve-covered hand over his face, lowering it to reveal a pink nose that stood out against his paled skin. Seeing how Harry was growing bashful, Louis rested a comforting hand on his shoulder and blessed him along with the rest of the party.
“Excuse me, sorry. Thank you,” Harry said before clearing his throat, and Louis caught on to the slight glassiness of his eyes as they shone with what could only be embarrassment.
“D’you wanna go home?”
“No.” Harry could tell his voice was waning, but he wasn’t feeling awful enough to cut the night short. “M’doing alright.”
“Are you sure? You’re lookin’ rough, sunshine.”
“I’ll be fine, Lou.” Harry resorted to wiping his nose on his sleeve, having run out of tissues already. “We’ve gotta eat.”
“We could eat at home, baby,” Louis reminded him with a gentle touch on Harry’s thigh, as if subtly encouraging him to give in. Despite seriously considering the offer, Harry wasn't prepared to put an end to Louis’ fun.
“Yeah, but we’ve already ordered. I’m alright, really.”
A quiet Harry picked at their shared meal when it arrived, taking only a few small bites before leaving Louis to finish off the rest. Between the lingering taste of menthol and the painful knives lining his throat, Harry found that trying to get down any food only made him feel worse. In lieu of eating, Harry ordered another cup of tea to fill his stomach and subtly leaned into Louis, trying to leech some heat from him as he suppressed new, feverish shivers. Noticing his husband's subtle shaking, Louis slid an arm around Harry again and scooted him even closer to his side, pressing their bodies together and rubbing a calming thumb on his hip.
Whenever Harry sneezed, the whole table blessed him, something which never failed to make his pink cheeks go red. He managed to keep them relatively quiet for the sake of politeness, but they never went unacknowledged—particularly by Louis, who would plant a soft kiss on Harry's cheek, his jaw, his shoulder, anywhere he could reach to help settle the ill man. After bearing witness to more than enough doting, Louis’ friends began poking fun at him for being all sweet and soft as he kept a close watch on his poorly husband.
Harry went stiff. He’d tried so damn hard not to embarrass Louis all night, but maybe he was being too clingy. Maybe his cold was more off-putting than he’d thought, or maybe he was being rude and distant and oh god maybe he should’ve stayed home…
“You’ve changed him, Styles.”
“I-I’m sorry.” The apology was pulled reflexively from Harry, having misread the statement's intent after coming out of his anxious spiral.
“No, no, in a good way, mate. Now he’s all responsible. It's weird. Unnatural, really.”
“Well, that’s what I get spendin’ all me time with the most perfect person in the world. Gotta give him all he deserves and more,” Louis crooned, turning to Harry with pursed lips to ask for a kiss that was immediately granted. Though Harry expected a quick peck, he felt Louis’ lips lingering against his for another, longer kiss.
“Oh, boo.”
“Get a room, lovebirds.”
“Gross, Tommo.”
“You’re such a sap.”
Everyone continued to rib Louis about being so disgustingly in love, and Harry was surprisingly pleased when he also became the butt of the joke. It was nice to feel included, even if the inclusion was along the lines of he still kisses you when you’re ill, that’s so gross and disgusting and also very sweet, he’s lucky to have you, thank you for marrying our best mate.
That, along with the way Louis continued to speak about Harry, and how gentle and casual touches were given without hesitation despite the continued banter, had Harry no longer worried about being an unwanted presence at the table. On the contrary, Louis was endlessly proud to show off his partner, more than pleased to brag about his solo album and his film and to talk up his every attribute to his mates. To their credit, the men seemed genuinely interested, and they listened intently while Harry’s increasingly congested voice spoke about whatever it was they wanted to know. Nobody seemed bothered by his condition, making no commentary beyond their occasional blessings, and Harry was endlessly grateful for that.
They stayed out for nearly three hours while Louis caught up with the group, the ill man at his side choosing not to speak up when he started feeling terribly feverish and ached for his bedsheets. Instead, he pushed through—listening in carefully through the exhaustion plaguing his brain, holding back coughs until his eyes watered, and doing his best to look unaffected through it all. If media training gave Harry one thing, it was the ability to wear a pleasant face through pain and discomfort.
Once Harry gave in and dropped his blurry head to Louis’ shoulder, everyone took that as a cue that it was time to head home. Harry sniffled through goodbyes, politely declining handshakes on the basis of keeping his cold to himself, and thanked them all for their well-wishes with a mostly-gone voice. As they walked out to the car, Louis slipped a guiding hand onto Harry's lower back. It slid to rest beneath his jumper, and Louis felt the distinct heat radiating from his husband’s skin. The man hadn’t been fevered at all when they arrived, but Louis was unfortunately unsurprised by the development. Whenever Harry got a few days into an illness without proper rest, he tended to crash rather hard—socially draining himself seemed to have expedited that process.
“Oh, darling, you’re warm.”
“Yeah,” Harry agreed quietly before muffling a cough behind closed lips. “Got the chills, though.”
“Poor thing,” Louis cooed, pouting at his love’s condition and kissing his shoulder. “Let’s get you in a nice steamy shower, bundle up, and have a cuddle.”
He led Harry to the passenger door, helping him into the seat before taking his own behind the wheel. A loving stroke of his hair made Harry nuzzle up into Louis’ hand, and the older man scratched his scalp gently to relieve a bit of the tension from his slowly returning headache.
“You’ve hardly eaten a thing all day, would you like me t’get you some soup on the way home?”
“Could we really?” Harry, as tired as he was, sounded so excited at the prospect of soup—like a child offered a full bag of sweets— and Louis couldn’t have been more endeared to him.
“‘Course we can, sunshine. You jus’ have yourself a little nap, and I’ll get us home.”
“‘kay.”
Before he set off, Louis turned in his seat to face Harry, resting a hand on his thigh to get his attention.
“Thank you. For comin’ out with me tonight, y’really didn’t have to.”
“Wanted to. Haven’t seen your mates in ages.” Harry stopped to cough into his sleeve, rubbing his sore chest afterwards. “M’sure they loved bein’ ‘round this.”
When Harry gestured vaguely to himself, Louis only shook his head with a little smile.
“I know they appreciate you comin’, ‘specially when you’re not at your best. And they’re known to eat food off the floor, so I promise you they don’t mind a few germs.”
That made Harry’s lips turn up a bit, and he tilted his head to the side to ask Louis for a peck on the cheek. Louis obliged, cupping the other side of Harry’s face to turn it his way for a real kiss. Their lips met, and Harry sighed into the contact, resting his heated forehead against Louis’ much cooler one and sighing at the temperature difference.
“Let’s get you home, H,” a very sympathetic Louis whispered, and Harry only nodded. He sniffled, wiping his nose again before pursing his lips for one final kiss.
“I’m real sorry if I give you my cold,” he croaked, his thin voice officially threatening to fade out.
“Probably will, princess, y’sneezed on me ‘round a hundred times back there. Don’t worry ‘bout it. I’ve got nowhere to be but here with you.”
“You’re so romantic, Lou,” Harry mumbled before leaning up against the window to rest his eyes, and Louis was happy to see he had a bit of humour left in him despite his discomfort.
A gentle shake of his shoulder was what roused Harry from his short nap. He’d managed to sleep through Louis calling in an order to a nearby restaurant, stopping the car to pick it up, and driving all the way home. How the slamming of the door didn’t wake him, Louis had no idea—he was just glad his partner had a chance to relax.
“Hi, sleepyhead. We’re home.”
Harry hummed and closed his eyes again, so Louis unfastened the seatbelt for him to encourage him to move.
“C’mon, get up now. M’not gonna carry you, H, I got your soup,” he warned as he tugged Harry by the legs, bringing them to hang out the car door. “You can walk — yes, you can. You got a cold, not the plague. Up you get, babe.”
“I love you,” Harry whispered when Louis grabbed his hand to help him out of the car, his voice shot and pained from overuse but causing Louis’ heart to flutter anyway.
“I love you, too.”
They kicked off their shoes without untying the laces so their hands could stay locked together, and Louis led his love over to the kitchen. Tender hands combed through Harry’s hair, and neither man was entirely pleased with how it stayed slicked back from sweat and grease.
“Did y’want soup now or later?” He asked as Harry leaned his weight on the counter.
“Maybe later. I got a headache, so the drive made me sorta nauseous.” A tentative hand slipped over Harry's stomach as if he was trying to protect it from further upset.
“Aw, alright, H. Go lie in bed, settle your stomach. I’ll be in soon.” Louis lifted Harry’s free hand to kiss it before sending him off to their bed.
Once Louis met him in the bedroom, he instructed his husband to pull on a thick purple dressing gown over the ratty old t-shirt he changed into. The shivery boy was tucked under a fluffy blanket for extra insulation, and Louis held him close to his chest to share his warmth. He slowly stroked Harry's arm as they watched a film, though Harry was most certainly half asleep with his nose nuzzled into Louis’ collarbone.
“Lou?”
“Yeah, babygirl?”
“Could I have some water? Feeling off again.”
“Of course, darling. Lemme—” he slowly shifted Harry, who closed his eyes tight as Louis stretched to grab the glass of water. When Harry's eyes remained closed, the glass was pressed into his hand for him to blindly raise to his lips. “Everythin’ alright now?”
“Yeah, that was... strange. Not sure what’s come over me, I just feel swirly.”
“I think you might be dehydrated, H. You drink much tonight?” Louis tried to think back to how many drinks Harry got through during dinner, but his memory wasn’t clear.
“Two cups of tea, bit of your water.”
“Alright, not bad. Well,” Louis took a second to think before continuing, “I dunno. Still reckon you’ll feel a bit better with some more water in you.”
“Mhm.”
With the gentle help of Louis, the younger man finished off the glass of water, coughing a bit as he swallowed the final sips.
“Good job, babygirl. You wanna lie down again? That might help too. Can’t imagine you’re comfortable with them legs curled up like that. Here — head here, stretch on out, there we go. That better?”
“A bit,” he said, eyes still closed and face pinched in discomfort. “Still feel weird. Like m’nauseous but only in my head?”
Harry buried his flushed face into Louis’ stomach, and his husband’s hands caressed him in the most calming of ways. One rubbed careful circles on his belly while the thumb of the other pressed into his temple to expertly relieve the pain that radiated through his forehead. A deep sigh came from Harry when the release of some tension helped slow his spinning head.
“Honey?”
“Yeah?”
“How’re you so good at this?” Harry practically moaned the last few words when Louis’ hand travelled down and hit a terribly sore knot in his neck. The reaction made Louis dig his fingers in harder, grinning at the pleasure the simple act caused his ailing partner.
“Been doin’ it for nine years now, love. Got me a lot of practice in.”
“Nah, but you’ve always been good at it.”
That much was true. Louis had been nothing if not an attentive, loving caretaker for Harry from the moment he first had the chance.
“Well, there’s the whole responsible big brother experience, so I reckon that's helped some, but... I dunno. I think we always worked, y’know? Like, from the start, it never felt wrong with you. Lookin' after you durin’ X Factor felt so natural — like it’s what I’m meant t’be doin’ all this time.”
“You’re sweet.” Harry’s pained expression gave way to a little smile. “You treat me too well, angel.”
“Oh, Harry Styles, I’d go to the moon and back for you.”