salute [h.s]

december 5 - overly bundled up for the weather

"Louis, don't -" Niall cut off with a harsh cough, bending over himself and couching into his fist. He had to gasp to catch his breath once the tickle in his lungs was gone and he placed a hand to his sternum, felt his heart racing beneath. He was so sick.

"I'll go with him," Zayn said as he got to his feet as well. "Make sure he doesn't piss anyone off."

"Listen, I'm fine," Niall said insistently once Zayn had followed Louis, craning his head between Harry and Liam who were both wearing varying expressions of concern. "My voice might be a little rough but I can still do the interview."

"Let's get you out of this coat," Harry said, completely ignoring Niall as he got into his personal space and began yanking at the scarf around Niall's neck to pull it off.

"Stop it, you don't have to - stop it, Harry!"

"You're going to overheat," Harry informed him sternly as he yanked the end of the scarf out of Niall's clumsy fingers and began to unwind it from around his neck. He got it almost all the way off and then stopped, staring at Niall's neck. "Are you wearing another scarf under this?"

"Two," Niall admitted bashfully, holding his hands to his neck protectively so Harry wouldn't attack the other scarves. He needed them. It was too cold everywhere, every inch of his skin feeling like it was pressed to ice if any of it was exposed. It was hard enough having his nose uncovered - he couldn't bare taking off his scarves or his mittens.

"Niall," Liam said with a sigh as he sat down next to his mate, dropping his arm around Niall's shoulders. Instinctively, Niall moved in toward him, relishing in Liam's body heat as he let his temple drop to Liam's shoulder. He wanted to close his eyes but he knew if he did that he would fall asleep and he couldn't afford to do that. "Lou's gone to get you some tea for your throat, okay? Can you manage that?" Niall nodded against Liam's shoulder.

"You should've stayed home," Harry scolded gently as he sat down on the table in front of the couch, his knees knocking against Niall's. He leaned over, elbows on his thighs, and scrutinized Niall.

"Yeah, home," Niall said with a derisive bark of laughter, "because home is definitely a cold, minimalist hotel room, all by myself, with only two English channels on the telly, neither of which play football matches."

Harry's cheek quirked up at the side, like he couldn't quite keep the smile off his face even if Niall was quite ill, because Niall was being indignant and pouty and possessive of his football. His eyes were sad and sympathetic, though, because Niall had voiced the same feeling that all of them had. Travelling the world was amazing and life-changing and none of them would have traded it for anything. There were times, though, when they wanted home so badly it hurt and it was so hard coming back to a hotel room that felt like it belonged to someone else.

"D'you just want to stay back here while we do the interview and then one of us can go back to the hotel with you, make sure you're all settled in and you've had some medicine?" Liam asked. Niall shook his head, burrowing his forehead against the warm fabric of Liam's jumper.

Harry was frowning in Liam's direction and then he turned it back to Niall. "You're not doing this interview."

"Yes I am," Niall said back firmly, mirroring the tone Harry had just used on him. "And you can't tell me what to do."

Harry pressed his lips together tightly and Niall could tell by the way that his fingers began to tap an uncontrollable rhythm on his thigh that he was holding in about a thousand uncomplimentary things that he wanted to say. Restless, Harry got to his feet and brushed past them, heading straight for the rack of clothes standing off to the side of the dressing tables, Niall's name taped onto the end. "If you insist on staying, we'll find you something to wear then. You can't wear your coat on stage."