when harry comforts you
You feel awful. Like, so so so awful with your nose running and your eyes watering and the way your head is pounding and you feel like you might cough your lungs out. And Harry feels so bad about your cold, because it's probably all his fault because last week, he wanted to do this romantic kiss-in-the-rain business that everyone always talks about, and there was the perfect sort of storm for it, and he made you stand outside for like an hour to perfect the kiss, even though you were so cold that you were shaking during half of his kisses and he should've brought you inside sooner. So, Harry does what any responsible boyfriend would do - that is, besides not take you out in the cold rain in the first place. He snuggles you up on the couch, insisting that you wear his sweatpants and sweatshirt because "they're warmer, babe, you know that" and he piles six blankets up next to you, biting his lip and draping another blanket across you every time he sees a shiver rip through your body. And Harry makes you hot chocolate, with extra whipped cream and marshmallows, and chicken noodle soup for dinner and he doesn't even look away while you're blowing your nose, instead offering you tissue after tissue, despite the fact that you told Harry that he could leave hours ago, that you'd be fine eventually. ("Love, I'm not leaving." "I was just saying you could, Harry. Because you know, this is sort of gross. I guess. Like, I'm really gross right now." "You're lovely, babe, not gross in the slightest." "Harry, you're such a liar." "Am not. You're truly lovely." "Shut up, yea? And just let me snot all over you, okay?" "Of course dear. That's the picture-perfect scenario in my mind.") And Harry lets you lay your head in his lap, his hands brushing all over your legs as you curled them up closer to your body and he squeezes your ankle really slowly, almost as if he is trying to convey how apologetic he is about how bad you feel. And he braided your hair for an hour or so, to keep the pieces from sticking to your neck, before moving on to press kisses all over your forehead despite how sweaty it had gotten, and you really love the way his body heat warms you up more so than the multitude of blankets do. (And much later on, Harry offers to run a bath for you, and you shake your head because, "Harry, I'm not much up for, you know, bath stuff," and Harry narrows his eyes at you because how dare you imply that fooling around is all he's ever after with you, and then he runs a magnificent bubble bath with candles all around and Harry won't even get in the tub until you beg him to, just to show this is completely heartfelt. And you do beg, because all you want to do is fall asleep (sort of zonked out by cough medicine, if you're being honest) in that warm tub with your head tucked into the space between Harry's head and chest and his fingers tracing along your hipbones. And when you do fall asleep, Harry can't help but laugh at himself because he's sort of half-hard from having your naked skin against his own but you're too cute and sick to wake up, so he just carries you to bed and tucks you back into one of his sweatshirts and pulls up three blankets to right under your chin, before he cuddles up next to you.)
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