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“Nuh uh — no. Where d’you think you’re going?”
Louis found himself blocked from the exit by a familiar body stepping in front of him, arms crossed in displeasure. His husband had his eyebrows raised, obviously not open to any arguments as he stared down at the shorter man.
“Outside,” Louis said flippantly, but he glowered at Harry when he extended his arm with a clear hand-it-over gesture.
“Gimme the pack. None of that right now.”
“Go back t’work, H.”
“Only if you give me the cigarettes.”
It took everything in Louis to not stamp his foot in frustration. He didn’t have the energy to be his usual feisty self, but he so wanted to maintain some sense of control.
“I can’t focus, lemme have a quick smoke.”
“What’ve you even got to focus on, hm?”
The unblinking staredown only increased the tension between them. Neither of the two seemed ready to give in, so when Louis side-stepped Harry and walked out, all Harry could do was scoff and roll his eyes.
“Fine. You wanna make yourself feel worse, be my guest.”
The door swung closed behind Louis just as his husband finished speaking, and now that he was finally alone, he let his heavy eyelids fall closed. He leaned a good deal of his weight against the brick wall and sighed, trailing off with a few coughs. The cool, dry air felt good on his clammy face, but it made his nose run incessantly. Having no other choice, he rubbed his nose on the sleeve of his jacket, regretting it as the rough denim scratched against his skin. Can’t catch a fuckin’ break, can I, he thought as he clenched his jaw in irritation.
He’d woken up with the beginnings of a cold that morning, but he chose to keep it from Harry until the man was about to begin the photoshoot he’d accompanied him to. There was a very convincing part of him that wanted to stay home, to not drive his husband to the set and watch his goofy self get photographed for hours, but he didn’t want to cause any disappointment.
“No good luck kiss?” Harry asked, dimples growing on his made-up face, and Louis hated to let him down. He pressed a kiss on his shoulder and nuzzled his cheek into it for a second.
“Eh, not today, love. Don’t feel too well, think I’m gettin' a cold.”
Though he had pecked his husband’s lips earlier that morning, Louis wanted to minimise the opportunities for Harry to come into contact with his germs. The man was always busy, and slowing down was never an option, no matter how much his husband begged and pleaded. Being carted around from place to place to place whilst fighting off a cold was the last thing Harry needed, in Louis’ opinion. A worried expression took over his face and it made Louis feel rather guilty, but someone called Harry’s name, giving Louis a chance to slip away to his seat in the corner.
With his pounding head and slow-moving brain, he’d forgotten why he left the comfort of that chair in the first place until he slipped his hands into his pockets. That’s right, smoke break. He doubled back and slipped outside again with Harry nowhere to be seen. He took a cigarette out of the pack, and his shaky hands dropped it. After mumbling fuck under his breath, he took a new one and put it in his mouth, fishing around his pockets for a lighter.
He hadn’t noticed the arrival of Harry, watching from the doorway with crossed arms, so hearing him speak startled Louis out of his haze.
“And how is this making you feel any better?”
“It…it is, alright?”
It really wasn’t. The autumn breeze and dreary sky made him shiver more than he already had indoors, but he was committed now. He pulled the lighter out from his jacket and flicked it on, blocking the wind with one hand as he balanced the cigarette expertly between his lips. The initial wafts of smoke that drifted from the end blew right back into Louis’ face, and a sneeze caused it to fall out of his mouth before he could even take a proper drag.
“Fuck, god damn it. You fuckin’ serious?” He reached down to stub it out on the pavement before tossing it in the bin, wiping his nose with the back of his free hand.
“Lou, come on. You’re not feeling well, let’s give it a rest for today. Or maybe forever, if you like.”
“Harry, please, jus’ one. S’all I need,” he insisted as he pulled the pack from his pocket once more, making to light his second attempt.
“No. Your throat’s irritated enough as it is without that shit. Put them away now or I’ll do it for you.”
It wasn’t often that Louis was intimidated by Harry, but the incredibly serious voice he put on made it feel like he was arguing with his mother rather than his husband.
“You don’t understand. All I need is one, then I’ll be good to go.”
“Louis,” he said firmly, jaw set and brows quirked up dangerously. “Don’t make me use your middle name. I’ll do it.”
“They used t’use cigarettes for asthma and shit back in the day, you know—” he informed Harry in a desperate attempt to sway him “—so I’d think I’m justified in havin’ one.“
“Yeah? They used to give out cocaine for toothaches, so I think maybe — just maybe — they weren’t right in the head.”
“How many toothaches you had this year?” Louis grumbled, and his husband gave him a light smack to the arm.
“Oh, stop it, you. That’s different.”
“How's that any different fr—”
“Give me your shit already, Louis. Stop messing ‘round.” He cut his husband off quickly; Harry knew the conversation and Louis’ attitude were fuelled by misdirected frustration and, though he had sympathy for the man, he didn’t want to play along while he was supposed to be working.
Louis was unsuccessful at batting away Harry’s hands when he reached into the pocket of his jacket to swipe its entire contents. The wallet was stuffed into his back pocket while the pack of cigarettes was thrown deep into the bin alongside its fallen members.
Harry grabbed him firmly by the shoulder and steered him back inside the building.
“I’m sorry, honey. I’m only looking out for you. You know that.”
All he got in response was an eye roll and a deep sigh, so he removed his hand before it could get shaken off. Harry led him to his chair and plied him with a cup of tea he must have requested someone to make for him before kissing the top of his head and returning to his work. After a half-hour Louis was starting to get antsy, so he stood on shaky legs and left in search of more hot water.
By the time Harry was finished, undressed from his avant-garde outfits and back in his street clothes, Louis’ eyes had shut, head tipped back against the wall. He roused from his stupor when he felt a hand on his forehead, and he sat up fully, groaning as he stretched out his arms.
“Why’d you come?” He whispered, palm still resting on Louis’ forehead as fingertips scratched his scalp.
“Like supportin’ you,” he said, voice the slightest bit rough. “You’re pretty, y’know that?”
Harry chuckled and thanked him, offering assistance to stand and wrapping him in a hug. Trailing behind him on their way out, Louis listened as Harry said his goodbyes, graciously thanking the staff and shaking hands the way he always did. Why was it Louis who was falling ill when Harry was the one touching everyone in the world, he lamented privately. That couldn’t possibly be fair.
Harry, the sweetheart that he was, looked over his shoulder and slowed down for Louis, reaching out a hand to be held. Their fingers laced together just as they heard someone calling for Harry.
“Hey, you can’t leave yet. We were gonna debrief.”
With a little shake of his head, Harry declined the offer.
“We’re actually going to head out, sorry. It’s been a long day and Louis’ not been feeling well, so I’d like to get him home. We’ll catch up in an email… maybe meet after the weekend?”
Someone else approached them, putting himself between the couple and the door.
“Sorry, Harry. There’s still things to do, you really have to stay. Louis can go, but we need you here for a while.”
“No, I’m sorry. My husband’s ill, we’ll be leaving.” Harry managed to keep his tone polite, but his nostrils flared in frustration as he took a deep breath.
“You can’t go.”
“Get out of my way,” he snarled, but the man didn’t move. Growing more irritated by the second, Harry raised his eyebrows. “Please don’t make me ask again.”
“Since when have you been all mouthy?”
Since you challenged him on his husband’s wellbeing, Louis responded inside his head. Scary little thing when he gets all protective.
“What do you expect? I’ve lived with this one for nine years. Now get the hell out of the way.”
“No, Styles. Sit down.”
When Harry looked at a noticeably flushed Louis, feeling his heat as their hands were still held tight, his resolve only strengthened. That protective instinct flared up inside of him again and he took a moment to let himself breathe before responding.
“Alright. We’ll stay.”
Both the man and Louis were surprised by the immediate compliance, saying you will? and we will? at the same time.
“Yeah. You know I’m not letting my poor Louis drive home alone, and if you’re so desperate for me to be here, it’s clear you have no problem catching his cold. Let’s go have a seat, my love, c’mon.”
Harry tugged Louis’ hand and pulled him into his side before letting go and wrapping it around his waist. After snuggling under his arm, Louis made it a point to cough harshly, sounding quite unwell as he muffled it between his hand and Harry’s jumper.
“No, no, I— you can go.”
Waving it away, Harry kissed Louis’ hair before resting his chin on the top of his head.
“Oh, it’s fine. Right, honey? Let’s stay another hour or two — all day, even. Whatever they need to get their precious work done."
Even as miserable as he was, Louis smirked at the man who was fully exasperated when he realised Harry had won. Though Harry’s team treated him far better than what the couple had to deal with while in the band, he was still under the thumbs of his contract writers and bound to their demands and desires. There were plenty of things over which he had no control, so he found it quite fun to give them a bit of pushback when he felt he deserved a long leash.
“Styles, just go home. I’m sorry.”
“We’ll go, but you’re not sorry.” With that, Harry and Louis stepped around him. “Have a good evening.”
Since the moment they set foot in their home, Harry doted on Louis endlessly. As embarrassed as he was by all of the mother-henning, Louis was rather enjoying being the centre of attention. Whenever his husband would leave the room he would secretly pout, feeling childish and pathetic, but the return of his beautiful eyes brought a wave of relief that somehow managed to make his headache less unbearable.
Louis didn’t want to be lonely while Harry cooked his soup, so he insisted on being in the kitchen, leading him to sit in a big nest of blankets on the floor which created a bit of a tripping hazard for his partner.
“Louis, darling, you’d be so much more comfortable literally anywhere else,” Harry pointed out, but Louis shook his head.
“Not comfortable ‘less m’with you.”
Harry rolled his eyes at his husband’s neediness and walked over, leaning down to plant a kiss in his hair. He looked so young like that, with his fluffed-up fringe and wide eyes, pink cheeks and a massive duvet pulled tight around his shoulders.
“You’re just lovesick, aren’t you? Bet you’re puttin’ all this on just to get my attention, hm?” He was obviously joking, seeing as the hair on Louis’ forehead had begun to stick to the skin and he couldn’t go more than half a minute without sniffling, but he wasn’t wrong about wanting all of his attention.
“You caught me, princess.”
“Knew it,” he said, scrunching up his nose at Louis and reaching down a hand to comb through his hair. “Soup’s finally done, let’s go sit.”
Tripping over the duvet more than once, Louis followed Harry and his soup to the sofa, not complaining when his husband adjusted the blanket around him, doubling back to retrieve a few extras to tuck in over his lap.
“You look so cute,” he remarked as Louis carefully sipped from the spoon. “So sweet.”
“You’re sweet,” he mumbled, wiping his nose on the duvet before remembering it was, in fact, what they were meant to be sleeping under later that night.
“How is it?” Harry asked after Louis had a chance to take in around a third of the bowl, and he hummed in satisfaction. “Lemme have a taste.”
Instead of going for the spoon—which Louis would have vetoed anyway—Harry pursed his lips for a kiss.
“Get outta here, you,” he protested, but Harry had already slid right up against him, kissing his cheek all over. “I’m germy.”
“Only a little cold,” Harry said as he continued to shower him with affection.
“Dunno if I’d call it little.” Louis turned away to sneeze, proving his point as the sound scraped his throat. “Fuck, sorry.”
“Well you’re little, so…”
“Don’t call me little,” he grumbled with an indignant sniffle, but Harry chose not to listen. He only cooed and gave him an exaggerated look of sympathy.
“Aww, my little Louis, so cute in his little tiny blanket nest.”
“Not little,” he said, weakly shoving Harry away, but the boy swung a leg over Louis’, straddling his lap so they were face to face.
“Little,” Harry teased, poking his cheek.
“Don’t call me that,” he said but the corner of his lip twitched up.
“What’re you gonna do about it, hm? Gonna make me stop?” Harry leaned in so their noses were nearly touching, and his hands rested on Louis’ shoulders. “Gonna shut me up?”
Louis’ hands wrapped around Harry’s lower back, digging his fingernails in the slightest bit the way he knew Harry liked before stopping himself.
“Okay, no. I see what you’re doin’.”
“I’m not doing anything,” Harry said innocently, his breath warm on Louis’ throat as he kissed it, feeling the quickening of his heartbeat from beneath the delicate skin. “I’m just… checking on your sore throat. Seems alright to me.”
Harry moved his lips to Louis’ cheek, drifting kisses up toward his temple before lingering there so they moved against him as he spoke.
“Still feels warm. I think you need some medicine.”
“I jus’ took paracetamol, love, can’t have anythin’ more.”
“Oh, that’s a shame. But I’ve got something else that could help. A more natural remedy, if you will,” he murmured, lips drifting closer to his mouth as he continued to press kisses on every part of his cheek.
“You’ll get a cold, H,” Louis warned, turning his head to the side so Harry’s kiss landed in his hair instead.
“Probably will anyway with you sniffling all over our duvet, won’t I? Now… could I interest you in some of my medicine?”
Finally giving in, Louis lifted his back off the cushions to lean up to Harry’s lips, feeling how soft they were against his slightly chapped ones. It was as if nothing was wrong until Louis had to duck out to take a deep breath, but Harry’s hand remained under his shirt while the other rested high on his inner thigh. Louis apologised for the inconvenience, but it didn’t seem to matter to his husband.
“I don’t think you got the full dose yet,” Harry purred, his hand sliding further up his thigh while the other slipped down his back, fiddling with the waistband of his pyjamas.
“You’re so weird, love. Truly.” Louis sniffled deeply and wiped his nose on his already ruined sleeve.
“If it’s weird to want to kiss your husband then sure, yeah. I’m the weirdest person in the world.”
“It’s weird to wanna kiss your husband when he’s gonna give you a billion germs,” Louis pointed out, and Harry only shrugged.
“But they’re his billion germs, so I’ve married them too.” Lightly stroking fingers across his lower back to make him shiver, Harry brushed a thumb over Louis’ lower lip as he pouted out his own. “Please?”
“M’not lookin’ after you when you catch this,” he warned, but Harry ducked his head to bring their faces close, breath floating gently across Louis’ parted lips.
“You’re a dirty liar, baby.”
With Louis’ approval, Harry slid off his husband’s t-shirt before revealing his boxer shorts, feeling the bumps that appeared as hairs stood up on his overheated arms.
“Now m’cold,” Louis complained dramatically, hamming up the little chill he felt at being half-undressed.
“Oh, I’ll fix that, my angel,” Harry murmured, removing his own shirt and guiding Louis to lie down on the sofa, pressing his body on top of him chest-to-chest and sucking a very obvious bruise onto the base of his throat.
“Jesus, Harry, how’m I gonna hide that?”
“Blame it on your girlfriend.” Harry nipped it, the little flash of pain causing Louis’ pupils to dilate as his face flushed with more than fever.
He couldn’t contain himself anymore—he ground his hips up into Harry’s and all the breath rushed out of his husband, pulling a little sigh from the back of his throat as he trailed his lips up toward Louis’ jaw.
“Where d’you think you’d be going, anyway?” He asked as his fingers explored Louis’ chest. “You’re gonna be right here, letting me take good care of you. All week.”
“Playin’ nurse, are you?” He teased with his hoarse voice, lips a hair away from his husband’s as they had traversed to the very corner of his mouth. Harry only hummed in agreement, bracing himself on either side of Louis’ head as he held his body above the man, his necklace resting on his chest as it dangled. The rush of his already heavy breathing did nothing to calm the desperation between Louis’ hips, and the feeling of Harry’s flopped-over fringe just barely tickling the sides of his face added to the overwhelming need that coursed through his veins.
“You should probably… be in bed, Louis. Y’know, if you’re… feeling s-so… so poorly…” Harry got out between kisses.
“Take me there,” Louis urged, his name rolling off Harry’s tongue creating a wave of desire that he couldn’t suppress. Hot butterflies pooled in Harry’s stomach at this rare display of submission. Louis was putty in his hands, and it was driving him absolutely wild. Hoisting him up to his chest with strong hands beneath his thighs, Harry felt sloppy kisses all across his collarbone, trailing up to where shoulder met throat and throat met jaw as hands slipped beneath the elastic waist of Harry’s boxers to feel the softest skin beneath.
Louis was tossed rather unceremoniously onto the bed while Harry whipped off his trousers, stumbling over them when his foot got stuck in the leg.
“I’ll make you better… if you’ll let me,” he said in a low voice and Louis whimpered his agreement before breathing out a yes. The tips of their noses rubbed together as Harry pressed their foreheads flush.
Just as he was about to connect their lips, Louis put a hand on his chest, shoving him away to prevent him from being sneezed on. He whipped to the side, torso rising from the bed with the effort, and Harry stretched all the way to the bedside table to grab a tissue. Rather than hand it over, Harry wiped Louis’ nose for him, knowing that it would get him so adorably shy and blushy and even more pliable.
“Bless you, angel. You doing alright?”
The man sniffled, giving Harry a sheepish smile and pat on the thigh but refusing to meet his eyes for a moment out of embarrassment.
“M’good.” The painful clearing of his throat that followed the words worried Harry, so he sat back on his heels to give Louis some space to rise up on his elbows and take in a few good breaths.
“Wanna take a moment? Like, actually lie down together.”
“No, no. Long as you’re fine with a bit of snot, m’all set.”
“You know I don’t mind,” Harry said, genuinely unbothered by what probably should have been revolting. It was Louis, though. Absolutely nothing could stop him from loving that man when he set his mind to it, not even a fever-sweaty forehead or crackling cough. “I’ll take it nice and slow, how ‘bout that?”
Harry combed Louis’ damp fringe out of his face as the man scratched his nose roughly with the back of his hand.
“Not too slow.” Louis forced a harsh cough into his shoulder, clearing himself up to buy more time to snog before he’d need to duck away again.
“Never,” he breathed, and Louis put a hand on his lower back to tug him down, skin-to-skin again as he gave in to his longing for everything that was Harry.