Sweet As Honey-Boxer Harry

Chapter 6

Harry's a bloody good fighter. He doesn't brag much, only when he's trying to intimidate some asshole that's eyeing his y/n or a new boxer has been pushing his buttons. He's humble, for the most part, but he prides himself on being one of the few boxers that doesn't get knocked out.

He can feel the burning shame before he's even fully woken up. Or maybe that's just another concussion. It doesn't matter, they both make him feel like he failed.

He can feel fingers in his sweaty hair, close to his head and gently scratching his scalp. It eases the throbbing behind his head a bit. There's a hand in his left one, boxing gloves removed and now just covered in tape. He can tell by the shape of the hand in his that y/n is the one next to him. He wants to feel her against him, holding him, taking care of him. It's her that gives him the strength to peel his heavy eyelids open.

The lights have been dimmed but they still make his head pound and he winces. Y/n squeezes his hand and he does it back, turning his head to the left to look at her. She's smiling at him, close lipped but soft and nurturing. Her fingers keep massaging his head, making his toes curl.

"Hey love," She whispers, inching closer to him. She's face level with him, meaning she's sat on a chair next to the bed he's on. He wonders where they are but he can't get his brain to focus enough to look around him. Besides, he kind of likes that she's the only thing he can focus on.

"Hi." His voice is rough and crackling, itching in his dry throat. He swallows a couple times, hoping that'll help but he needs water. His lips fall open to ask y/n for some but she's already pulling her hand from his hair and reaching over his head. She brings down a Styrofoam cup with a straw sticking out of it. Harry pushes himself up to his right elbow, vision swooping as he sits up. He closes his eyes, willing the nausea away and parting his lips for the straw. Y/n directs it to his lips, holding the cup and his hand while he drinks.

When his throat feels better and his body cooler, he gently falls back into the pillows behind his head. Y/n returns the cup to it's spot, fingers falling back to his hair. He hums, blinking sluggishly at her.

"Don't feel as bad as I thought I would." Harry admits quietly. He expected to be aching and throbbing all over after the beating he took. He wonders why it doesn't hurt but the question doesn't last long before y/n is clearing it up for him.

"Medics gave you a shot of painkillers while you were out." Her hand falls to cup his cheek, head tilting as she rubs her thumb over the swollen spot on his cheekbone. "Didn't want you hurting when you woke up."

"Thank you,"

"Cleaned you up a bit too. You've got a bandage above your eye but nothing needed stitches." She places her thumb over the bandage.

"How bad was it?" Harry asks, lifting their intertwined hands. He strokes the back of her hand with his free one.

"Nothing too bad." Y/n lays her cheek against their hands. "Besides the concussion you're just a little more beat up than usual."

Harry nods, sighing softly. Him and y/n just look at each other for a moment, eyes gleaming with appreciation. He wonders if she was worried when he blacked out. If she cried or if she took charge and rushed to get the medics. He hopes she didn't cry. He remembers how much it affected her the first time he'd been knocked out. He doesn't want to think about her reliving that so he blinks the image away.

"Want to go home darling."

She smiles, kissing his knuckles. "Then let's go home."

~

Y/n is pretty good at keeping her cool, especially when it comes to him getting hurt. She doesn't want to make things worse or guilt trip him by whining about how worried she was. But she had never seen him knocked out.