Sweet As Honey-Boxer Harry

Chapter 11

Harry had heard a sniffle like that before. He'd heard the unmistakable hiccup of her crying, and the stuttering breathes of her heart aching. But he had never come home to her in such a state.

It's normal to come home to her curled up in his bed, with one of his hoodies and sweatpants on. Sometimes she'd be asleep, or she'd have a movie on like she does right now. However, she's never sat on his bed, body jerking with hiccups against his pillow she's holding, and tears streaming down her red cheeks.

"Darling," he gasps softly, dropping his gym bag at the foot of his bed and kneeing his way up the duvet to where she's huddled against the headboard. He plops down facing her, crossing his legs and reaching forward to cup her face in his left hand. He pushes her hair out of her face with the other, wiping at the tears on her cheeks. "hey," he rouses when she doesn't respond. "what's going on? What's the matter?"

His heart pounds in his chest, spreading panic throughout his body until his stomach is twisting uncomfortably and his head is spinning. It doesn't help when y/n meets his eyes, sniffling harshly, and biting at her wobbly bottom lip. Harry doesn't know if she's not answering because she doesn't want to, or if she can't speak around the harsh breaths and hiccups leaving her lips.

She whimpers heartbreakingly when he lodges his hand under her thighs, pulling her into his lap. Without hesitation her legs wrapped around his waist, arms around his middle, and her head falls against his shoulder. Harry rubs his palm between her shoulder blade and cups her bum in the other, patting his fingers rhythmically. To his dismay, she still says nothing. Her tears soak into his sweatshirt, and her snot and breath stain his neck but he doesn't care because it's y/n, and she's always taken care of him, and he loves her.

Harry lets her cry, doing all he can to soothe her by rubbing away the knots on her back and pressing kiss after kiss to the crown of her head. "You're okay baby, we're okay. I've got ya and I'll never let anything hurt ya." He soothes, feeling a little calmer with her against his chest. There's no safer place for her to be then right next to the heart that beats for her.

She's squished against him so tightly he's sure she's having a tough time breathing and her hiccups aren't doing her any favors, but he can still hear her when she finally speaks. "P-papa's sick,"

Another round of blubbering cuts her off, body raking with sobs. Harry does nothing to shush her. He holds her, absorbing her heartbreaking whimpers and trying to ignore the sadness seeping into his own heart. Yeah he loves y/n's grandfather, he's the main reason Steve and Marie approve of Harry now, but he's y/n's grandfather. It hurts him, but it sure as hell hurts her a lot more. Besides, he doesn't even know how sick Papa is.

Eventually, the tv gets stuck on Netflix's 'still watching' screen, and Harry's feet go numb, and y/n's cries fade into shakey breathes. She rubs against his shoulder like a kitten, yawning dejectedly, and he decides it's bedtime for them. They can talk about Papa in the morning.

He manages to keep y/n in his lap as he manuevers to the end of the bed and rises, holding her a bit tighter. Her legs and arms lock around him like a baby koala, keeping steady while he uses one hand to tug down the blankets on the bed and rearrange the pillows.

She's reluctant, clinging to his shirt when he lays her on the bed. "S'okay," Harry assures. "s'all ok darling. Getting in bed with ya, I promise."

Her fingers unlatch from his shirt, falling limp on her tummy, and she looks up at him through wet eyelashes and bleary eyes. Harry quickly wiggles out of his pants and tugs off his shirt, keeping his gaze locked on y/n. It's heartbreaking seeing her hurt, but Harry can't help but coo over her. It's usually the other way around with them. Harry always curled up under the covers and drenched in tears while y/n holds him and comforts him. He's just grateful that he gets to take care of her in return.