Harry (age 8)
Y/N was half-asleep on my hip when we finally boarded the plane to Spain. Our mother, Anne, and our sister, Gemma, were chatting animatedly behind me , and our dad Robin was heaving the luggage behind him. It was when he begged for help Y/N groggily came to and instantly panicked. She grabbed the curls at the nape of my neck and shoved her face into the junction between my neck and his shoulder. "Plane," she whined as a steward finally came to grab the suitcases from our panting father. "It's a private plane, bug. It doesn't get safer. I promise," I murmured gently as I struggled up the steps to the airplane. "Here Harry, let me take her," Anne said and I willingly handed her over. She immediately curled into mum's embrace as I brought her iPad out from her backpack. "C'mon love, you can watch a movie with Harry yeah? I'm sure he'd love to watch Barbie for the seventh time," Anne coaxed as she winked at me over her head. In reply, I simply beamed. "O-okay," she stammered as Anne placed her gently in the expensive leather seat next to my brother. I raised the armrest and drew me in close. Y/N rested her head on my chest and drew a deep breath as I started rubbing her back. With Anne and Robin talking quietly in the back, Gemma humming and riffling the pages of a magazine and me commentating on the movie, Y/N was asleep within minutes, and didn't wake up until the plane touched the ground.
