Larry sick fics

Harry sick during christmas

"Your turn now, Harry! Open it!" Louis says, practically shoving the overflowing stocking into Harry's hands. Harry's eyes widen as he fumbles to catch it, some loose candy canes and chocolates spilling out over the top despite his best efforts.

Louis offers him an apologetic smile, and Harry returns his own, sweet and shy. "I told you I don't need so much stuff..."

"I live to spoil you," Louis says unashamedly. Such a reply might as well be second nature at this point. "Especially when you're not feeling well," he adds.

Harry shyly ducks his head. "Just a cold." He quickly busies himself with emptying the stocking, as if to try and change the subject. Louis can still see a blush dusting his cheeks, though maybe it's from his fever rather than embarrassment.

Of all of the times for Harry to catch a cold, it just had to be Christmas. It started a couple of days ago with only a sore throat and a lingering cough, but the illness eventually caught up with him, leaving him with a frankly adorable reddened nose that, quoting Harry's complaints, can't seem to make up its mind whether it's runny or stuffed up.

Right now it has chosen the former, Harry Styles giving a wet sniffle and quickly running the sleeve of his pajamas under his nose. The action is so slight and causal, but it's a show of vulnerability, and Louis' heart clenches at the thought that Harry has grown so comfortable around him to show such weakness. Seeing Harry like this, his more private and personal side, is a privilege that Louis does not take for granted, even after all this time.

He watches fondly as Harry goes through his gifts. His curly hair - which he is finally growing out again to it's prime length - is a mess under the Christmas hat on his head, and Louis is certain Harry is only wearing it to avoid dealing with the fact. It's unbearably cute, and the crimson colour matches the flush on Harry's cheeks almost perfectly. His new pajamas are keeping any chills at bay: a green-covered flannel, complimenting Louis' which are a navy blue . The set is a small homage to the program that brought them together, that lead to this very moment, to a calm and quiet Christmas in Hampstead.

Snow is making its slow descent outside the window. Inside, it's warm and cozy, with the gentle glow of the Christmas tree and the fireplace lighting up Harry's face. A small pile of gifts has already begun to form around him, and he still has lots left to go too. Harry's hand is in the bag, his tongue poking out in concentration as he blindly grasps for his next item. A grin breaks out on his face when his fingers wrap around it, and when he finally pulls it out he makes a happy noise. "Socks! Thank you, Lou, I needed these!"

"Of course!" Louis says. "I noticed the holes in your other ones when I was doing laundry."

Harry clutches the bundle close to his chest, as if to try and contain the emotions in his heart. The look of pure love and adoration he fixes Louis with makes his own heart melt. "I would kiss you, but I don't want you to get sick."

"I already told you, Haz, I don't mind."

"Yes, but I do."

Louis hums in thought. "A compromise then: kiss on the cheek?"

"Deal," Harry agrees, leaning forward to deliver. The light press of his lips on Louis' skin lingers even after he pulls away.

With a sniffle and a few coughs, Harry adds the socks to the growing pile and reaches back into the bag.

"Hmm? What is...?" His face scrunches up curiously, and Louis catches the slight flex of Harry's muscles as he gives the item an experimental squeeze. When he gets a proper look at what he's holding, he shoots Louis a glance of disapproval. "Exactly what I wanted," Harry says in a flat tone. "How did you know?"