Niall Horan Imagines

A Horan Thanksgiving

**Hectic Thanksgiving in the Horan household :) Your kids are Fallon and Donovan. (HOW BOUT THEM IRISH NAMES, EH?!)**

"Daddy," Your little Fallon whined, clinging onto Niall's leg for dear life. "Daddy! Donny's being mean..." She whined, pouting up at Niall. Niall's eyebrows furrowed and he leaned over to lift his little girl into his arms, letting her head peek over his shoulder. 

"How's he bein' mean, princess?" Niall asked, carrying her down the hall to where Donovan's bedroom was - the last door on the right. Fallon's room was just across the hall from her brother's. Niall lightly knocked on the door frame before inviting himself into his son's bedroom, to find the eleven-year-old sprawled across his NBA -themed bedspread. "Hey, buddy?" Niall spoke up, and his son only glanced over his shoulder at his dad. He knew what was coming. Niall set Fallon back down on the ground and she placed herself in front of Niall, holding onto his hands as he said, "What's goin' on with Fallon, buddy?"

"Nothing," The boy grumbled, not really in the mood for this conversation. He kept his eyes focused on his Nintendo, deep in his Call of Duty game. Donovan loved his family, and sometimes he felt like the luckiest kid in the world. But there were times, and this was one of them, when he really disliked his younger sister. She had a way of intruding in on his personal business, and sometimes he felt like she hardly ever left him alone. 

Fallon huffed, glaring at her brother. "You sure?" Niall asked, and Fallon looked up at him, shaking her head. It was her way of telling him that it wasn't true - that something most definitely was going on.

"Yeah, dad," Donovan growled, crawling off of his bed and storming past Niall and Fallon. As he passed them, he mumbled, "I'm fine." Niall watched his son until he disappeared into the kitchen where you were, feverishly trying to put Thanksgiving dinner together in reasonable time. You had guests coming over (aka the boys and their families) in less than four hours, and there was still a great deal to get done by then. 

Fallon looked up at Niall and earned his attention by tugging on his hand and whispering, "He's lying, daddy. He's mad at me again." She frowned a little, and it kind of broke Niall's heart. Again. This was the fifth time that week, which Donovan and Fallon had gotten into some sort of argument. Fallon, being the younger one, always took the sympathy side. Donovan was tired of taking the blame for his sister's sake.

The little boy plopped down at the table, still buried in his Nintendo game. "Hey, buddy," You greeted him with a grin as you gathered the necessary ingredients for the stuffing you planned to make. 

Donovan smiled a little. You were always kind to him. He appreciated that. Without lifting his eyes, he warmly said, "Hey, mom."

"Y'alright?" You asked him noticing his change in mood. He shrugged in response and paused his game.

"Not really," He admitted, swinging his legs as he sat at the table - because his legs were still a bit too short to touch the ground in those tall dinner chairs you had. 

Standing on the tips of your toes in attempt to reach the salt, you asked, "Why? What's going on?"

Donovan sighed deeply and explained, "Fallon's just... always in my way. Sometimes I really want to be alone, but she won't let me. She's always there. And then when I nicely ask her to leave... she goes and tells dad on me."