One Shots

Sarah&Niall

Ding Dong The doorbell rings. I groan, begging the pounding in my head to fade as I roll out of bed and trudge down the stairs to the door. It was day 4 of the worst flu I’d ever had. Just getting out of bed was a chore. I open the door to see the familiar blond haired blue eyed boy standing there.

“Niall what are you doing here?” I exclaim before being overtaken by a coughing fit. “You’ll get sick and won’t be able to do the concert,” I add when the coughing recedes.

“Got it covered” he says with a grin, reaching into the bag by his feet and pulling out a surgical mask. I let out a laugh as he slips it on over his mouth and let him in with a shake of his head. “I heard mommy direction was sick so here I am to take care of her like she’s taken care of us so many times” he says, his voice slightly muffled by the mask. He sets the bag on the counter and I see him start pulling some things out. He pauses and turns back to face me. “Bed” he orders pointing up the stairs. “I’ll be up in a bit” With a laugh, I nod my head, following his orders and heading back to my room. About 5 minutes after I lay down I hear what sounds like a gun going off. I jump out of bed and run down the stairs, my eyes widening at the sight in front of me. I flustered Niall is standing in front of the now unhinged microwave frantically trying to get the smoke out of the open window.

“What happened?” I ask in shock.

“I don’t know! I was just just trying to make some soup,” he says frantically. I look inside the microwave once the smoke clears enough and a laugh escapes my throat. “Niall you can’t microwave metal” I say gingerly pulling out the soup can and setting the hot metal on the table.

“Oh” he says embarrassed. “Well there goes my attempt at taking care of my princess” he adds. I smile at his thoughtfulness. “Why don’t you go wait upstairs, we can watch a movie or something. I’ll make the soup” I say. He nods his head and heads up the stairs as I set a pot on the stove since the microwave was no longer an option. When the soup was done, I bring the two bowls upstairs and slide onto the bed besides him. He picks up the spoon and stares at it for a second before looking at me then back at the spoon. Finally he shrugs, pulling the mask off and popping the spoon in his mouth. I let out a laugh as I realize he was deciding between the risk of getting my flu and eating and that eating had inevitably one. I settle against him, and grab the remote, flipping onto some random channel and start eating my soup. I get about halfway done when my stomach starts feeling queasy and I set it down on the ground. I lean my head back against his shoulder and he sets down his empty bowl, wrapping his arms around me, absentmindedly tracing the scar on my left hand.

“How did I get so lucky to get a boyfriend who’d come take care of me when I’m sick?” I ask, my eyes sliding shut as I snuggled against his chest, feeling the first waves of sleep wash over me.

“I’m the lucky one,” he says softly, his lips brushing my hair. “I love you Sarah” he adds as I drift off to sleep.