A/N: Definitely not my best, but I hope y'all like it :) xx
I jerked my head up from my book, looking for the source of the sound. I squinted around the family room like a vulture, seeing Harry and Niall on the floor, laughing like idiots, and Louis dancing like a fool.
Sometimes, that boy.
I continued my search for the sound when I saw a rather pale-looking Zayn curled up on the couch, one hand in front of his pouty lips as he gently coughed, as if he was trying to not draw attention to himself. I narrowed my eyes.
Uh uh, you ain't gon' be hiding nothin' from me.
Since when did I speak so ghetto-like?
"Zayn, what's up? You feeling sick?" I asked casually, closing my book and simultaneously getting the other boys attention.
What? I'm Daddy Direction, I have to care for my boys!
Zayn's head snapped up, his hair flopping lifelessly on his forehead. I heard Niall gasp dramatically.
"Zayn, your hair! Are you feeling alright?! You must not be if your hair is like this!" He exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air for dramatic effect.
You know, I would disagree with him, but it was completely true.
Zayn's hair always looks good.
No matter what.
I saw him subtly trying to push his limp hair up, as if everything was normal.
Oh no, dis ain't gon' be happenin.
Ok, seriously, since when did I start talking like this?!
Rather, thinking like this.
Back to business.
"I'm fine," He whispered in a raspy voice. "Just feeling a bit off, you know?" We all winced as his voice cracked at the end. I shook my head, standing up.
"No, you just don't like feeling in need. You're obviously not feeling good." I stated, knowing I was right. I began walking towards him and he shrunk deeper into the couch, shaking his head furiously.
"Really, I'm fine! Truly!" He pretty much yelled. He swatted my hand away as I leaned to touch his forehead. I frowned.
"Lou." I said, snapping my fingers in his direction.
"On it mate." He responded, knowing what I needed. He came up and tackled the weak Zayn. Zayn screamed in protest, writhing and wiggling, but Louis was obviously stronger, especially since Zayn was in his sick state.
Or perhaps it was the biceps.
Definitely the biceps.
"No no no no no no!" He yelled, but Louis had pinned him down. Lou was straddling his jutting hips, holding his dark arms down above his head so he was helpless.
"Thanks Lou." I said with a smile. He looked at me, slightly panting from the struggle but smiling none-the-less.
"Always a pleasure." He said. I reached over to the still wiggling Zayn and put a hand on his forehead. I nodded as the heat emanating from his forehead confirmed my suspicions. Zayn slumped with a sigh, looking rather defeated.
"I was right. You have a fever. And I'm guessing a sore throat, judging on your voice." I stated, turning to the boys. Harry and Niall pouted.
"And we were going to go out on the town for the day!" Harry said sadly. I looked at him then to Zayn who was coughing again.
"Well," I began, wondering if my idea was a bad one, since the boys were reckless, "You guys can still go, I can stay here and watch Zayn." Once I said it, the boys gave a whoop, Niall tackling my in a hug, his little Irish head snuggled into my neck.
Yup, Niam is real.
But not, real real.
If anything, Ziam is real.
That be forreal tho.
I need to stop talking like that.
It's becoming hazardous.
Niall released me as Louis released Zayn, who immediately curled up in a ball, starting a coughing fit. We all looked at the poor boy pitifully.
"You know, I would give you a hug, but I don't want to get sick." Niall said with a sad expression on his face. We all gave a chuckle and Zayn gave a weak smile.
"Go on guys, I'll watch him." I finished. They all nodded and put on their sunnies and jackets, grabbing their keys and waving goodbye. I waved goodbye and once the door was shut, I turned to Zayn, who was still curled up on the couch.
Lookin' mighty fiiiine.
"Let's get some medicine, shall we?" I suggested, heading over to the kitchen cabinet where the medicine was stored. I heard him groan from the other room.
"I'm fine!" His voice sounded slightly muffled, as if his face was pressed against the couch. I rolled my eyes and brought back a water-bottle and some pills. Sure enough, when I went in the room, he was laying stomach down on the couch, his face planted on the cushion.