One Direction Sickfics

Harry's kid sick- for larrybeiberdreams

He groaned and tilted his head back at all. He wasn't even the slightest bit hungry. Nothing about the cereal on his spoon looked attractive to him. Lazily, he tipped the spoon and it's contents plopped back into the bowl with a splash. Did he really eat that every morning? It didn't even look like food.

"Jack, what on earth are you doing?" His mum questioned, her attention drawn by the noise he'd been making.

Pulling a face, Jackson stood with his bowl still full, "I'm not hungry."

"Oh, well, you should probably have something. I'm making Mara toast, would you like a piece? You look tired, you need something to give you a boost."

"Nah, thanks, I think I'll just leave it for now." Jackson shook his head as he scraped his rejected food into the bin.

"That's not like you Bud. . ." his mum sighed. She wandered over and frowned as she reached up and felt his forehead. Jackson rolled his eyes and waited for her reaction. He wasn't sick, just groggy.

"I'm fine Mum," he said, a small smile creeping around the edges of his lips. He'd grown a lot since the last time he was sick, it was funny seeing his mum have to stretch up just to reach his forehead.

"You don't have a fever." She chewed the inside of her cheek and rested back on her heels with a worried look. "Dad told me you stayed up again, how late?"

"I was tired Mum, I was asleep by eleven thirty," Jackson replied, yawning. He rinsed his bowl off in the sink and then loaded it into the dishwasher.

She sighed and moved her head from side to side, "I don't know how you function every day."

"Not everyone needs ten hours every night Mum," Jackson chuckled. He and his Dad always made fun of her, she was always snoring away by nine a clock.

Jackson threw a couple of pieces of fruit into his bag and shrugged it up onto his shoulders with a grunt. Something was digging sharply into his back so he jiggled his bag around a couple of times, shifting it's contents until the back was comfortable against his.

He hitched his usual ride to school with his Dad and had no choice but to head straight to his French class, seeing at the bell was only three minutes from ringing. His friend's Georgia and Kade both looked at him as he shuffled into the classroom. Eyes down to the ground where it wasn't quite so bright Jackson made his way to his seat in between the two of them, shrugging his bag onto the floor.

Although still wanting some more shut-eye time, being around his mates perked Jackson up a bit and he got through the lesson just fine, even enjoying himself despite the fact that he hated French.

The hour passed fairly quickly and everyone began filing out of the classroom before Jackson had even straightened to his full height. His legs ached, and his back. From his shoulders to his elbows was heavy and tight and his head was beginning to hurt too.

"Stupid chairs," he mumbled, giving the plastic thing a lazy kick. They'd always been uncomfortable, and he was too tall to sit hunched over his desk for too long with his back cramping, but he'd ever gotten this sore before.

"He's going crazy, talking to inanimate objects," Kade whispered loudly to Georgia, obviously meaning for Jackson to hear.

"What did that chair do to deserve your abuse Jack?" Georgia giggled, picking his bag up off the floor and chucking it to him. He caught it, just.

"Killed my back," Jackson yawned. "It deserves a lot more than a little kick. I'd like to burn it to ash, or chuck it off the top floor into the river."