Harry Styles Imagines

#88 Sniffles

Summary: Harry comes down with a cold, but Y/N will not tolerate having to baby him. Let's just say she uses something he knows he can't resist to coax him out of bed.

SNIFFLES

She ghosted her fingers over Harry's pale skin, causing an expanse of small goosebumps to rise in their wake. Along with them, short hairs stood to attention. Still, his bare arms remained secured around his pillow, his hair a brown and fluffy mess splayed across it. Going to bed early wasn't the solution, after all. In the time that he had slept in, she managed to eat breakfast, watch Live with Kelly, and put a load of clothes through the wash. There was no denying the fact that people who were under the weather slept like hibernating bears.

The unfortunate truth was that he was bound to catch something eventually. Especially with his grudge against walking around with socks and checking the mail after throwing a jacket on. Both were effortless tasks, yet he felt as though they were a waste of useful time. Making those two simple changes could've been enough to protect him catching a cold. The season for those was in full swing, and no mercy was shown on anybody. Especially not green-eyed boys who liked to believe they were immune to everything.

Before walking to the window, she placed a careful kiss on Harry's cheek. The corner of his lips gave the slightest twitch upwards, but that was it. With a sigh, she went to open the blinds. The sunlight made a world of a difference. Their room no longer resembled one from a TV commercial about depression. All of the furnitures' nice colors stood out. There were even small specks dust that were visible now that the rays were streaming in.

Along with the burst of color came a discomforted grunt from curly. Eyes still shut and eyebrows drawn in a furrow. It was a deep sound that couldn't have came from anywhere but his throat. Though it was time for him to, at least, attempt to get up, a cloud of guilt lulled over her. Maybe he could've benefited from another ten minutes in bed. Sleep was the solution to many bodily issues, but nothing good could possibly come from staying in one place for a too-long period of time. She'd unintentionally done the right thing, it seemed.

Back at his bedside, she gently pressed the back of her hand against his forehead for good measure. As long as he didn't have a fever, things were headed in the right direction. She didn't have the chance to really feel his temperature because he was quick to jerk away like something stung him.

"Hey, stop it," he grumbled, sniffing.

"Listen, I'm just try—" she stoped herself when she caught her harshness. "Sorry. Listen. I'm just trying to make sure you still have just a cold. If you're burning up, we've got an even bigger problem on our hands, yeah?" Without waiting for an answer, her hand was back on his forehead.

The truth was that he didn't want her finding out his temperature was normal. Sure, his nose was running and his throat was sore but he'd be able to pull through; it was nothing he couldn't handle. There was just something about staying in bed that was much more promising. The sheets and his pillow were both warm, wordlessly begging him to stay.

All he could do was whimper in defeat when she pulled away. "Y' can leave now. 'M fine." At least that was the truth.

"'M not leaving this room until you give me your word that you'll get yourself ready. You're almost 23. Suck it up," she reminded him, rolling her eyes a few beats after he did. There was a playful undertone laced within that statement. Come February, he'd be the oldest by two years. That age gap would decrease when her birthday rolled around in the Spring, however.

"Go 'way," he rasped.

"I'll heat up some of those sausage links you like," she promises, a smile growing on her face. "I know you can't resist those." That too, was a statement of truth.

They were store bought, but tasted as if they came from Italy's finest butchery. There was something about the spices and the texture of the meat that screamed professionalism. He was capable of microwaving them himself, but she always opted to do it because of his inability to wrap them properly. If the paper towel was too loose, excess grease would stain the microwave. If it was too tight, the links would be rubbery. Both were mistakes he often times made.

His ears perked up like a dog's. "Will you fix my eggs the way I like 'em too?" He was rolling right along with her plan. 

"If you go take care of your personal hygiene, maybe I will," she told him, smiling expectantly.

So that's what he did.

The sound of padding feet soon joined his sizzling egg as they cooked in the pan. In the air hung the familiar scent of breakfast food. None could be made out individually, but collectively it was one of the smells many people remember from childhood mornings. Harry soon trudged into her view, raising his long arms to stretch. His grey hoodie rode up enough for her to see his belly button and the thin line of hair under it. Not to mention his two fern tattoos. With a relieved grunt, he let his hands lazily fall to his sides. It was then that he slipped one under his hoodie to scratch his stomach. She didn't mean to stare at him as long as she did, it just happened.

"Hmm?" he hummed, curious.

"Nothing. Just you. You're lookin' more lively already," she compliments, winking. "Come here." she motioned for him to come by making a grabbing gesture.

His socked feet carry him to where she stood with her back facing the stove. He then wrapped his arms around her in a comforting embrace. A benefit of their height difference was that she could nuzzle into his neck. There was always a masculine herbal scent lingering there. It reminded her of the outdoors and home at the same time. She decided to place a sweet kiss to the soft skin beneath his ear. That spot was enough to make him turn to jello if it was exploited properly.

A shallow sigh left his mouth. "Love you," he murmured, squeezing her the slightest bit tighter. "Thanks for cookin'."

"'S all because I love you, sniffles," she said into his skin, before pulling away.

"Sniffles?" he repeated.

"Mhmm," her eyes were glimmering with obvious amusement.

He shook his head and let a laugh fall past his lips. A genuine one. It was a bit gravelly. "That works, I guess."

"I guess it does too," she agreed.

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A/N

It's been freezing here and I run indoor track (all our practices are outside, though), so I'm just glad I haven't caught a cold yet. 😂

And I was just thinking about this. Go back and compare the content of my older imagines to my more recent ones. I don't know what I was doing back then, to be honest. But I guess you guys liked it... hopefully.

Thank you to those of you who've shown so much support. It means a lot. In no way am I a great writer, but I'm glad I've built an audience of people who at least enjoy my imagines to some extent. You guys are the best! ❤

Thanks for 16k and counting.

-Nic