salute ➳ 〚h.s.〛 〚a.u.〛

welcoming in the new year

December 31, 2023

Piper Stone had spent ten years in the spy trade, fighting for her life against some of the world's most hardened criminals, protecting her country from countless attacks, and helping to bring down one of the most pervasive sleeper cell organizations that the modern world had seen. She'd nearly died more times than she could count, had broken half the bones in her body at this point (and there was that one time that she'd hitchhiked across Australia with a chunk of her tibia sticking out of her leg). She'd been through hell and back, with all the scars to prove it.

But none of that felt nearly as difficult in this moment as convincing her son to take his medicine.

"Come on, babe," she cooed as she pressed the tip of the syringe against Jack's lips, "just a bit for mummy, alright?"

Jack pressed his lips together tightly, tilting his head away from Piper as he whined. She tried again, cupping his chin gently in her hand as she pressed in gently against the tight seal of his lips, hoping he would give in and let her give him his children's paracetamol. He fought her off, tilting his head back violently to avoid the medicine. She was forced to drop his chin so she could wrap her hand around the back of his head before he smashed it into the bottom of the kitchen cupboard.

"It'll make you feel better," Piper promised, her fingers skimming over his forehead that was hot to the touch before sliding down to wipe the fresh tears from his cheeks. "Just a little bit, okay?"

Jack shook his head, pouting his lips out. "No."

Piper let out a heavy sigh, setting the syringe down on the counter. Along with Harry's eyes and dimples and bone structure, Jack also seemed to have inherited his stubbornness. 'No' had been his third word and had quickly become his favourite.

Although, if you asked Harry, he'd say that Jack's stubbornness was a Stone family trait. On that, the two of them chose to agree to disagree.

Feeling desperate, Piper plucked up her phone from the counter, dialling a familiar number from memory. It rang a couple of times and then was picked up, a beleaguered voice sighing on the other end. "What is it now, Piper?"

"He won't take it," Piper told Niall, guilt twisting her stomach when she heard the loud music thumping in the background. This was the third time she'd called Niall today — the first when she was in a panic over Jack's temperature, which was hovering just under 40 °C when he woke up from his nap that afternoon; the second when nearly six hours later, it had stayed steady despite a warm water bath. Niall was attending a New Year's Eve party at Marlow's publishing house, and she'd forced him to step away from the festivities for nearly a half hour talking about paracetamol doses with her. She hated having to bother him again but she didn't know what else to do.

"Did you use the spoon or the syringe?"

"The syringe. Should I try the spoon instead?"

Niall snorted a laugh. "Definitely not. I've seen the way that boy eats food he actually likes off a spoon — you'll have a baby with more liquid paracetamol on him than in him by the time you're done."

Piper heaved a sigh, leaning back against the kitchen island, watching Jack where he sat up on the counter across from her. He was wiping at his wet cheeks with the back of his pudgy little hand, his whole face flushed from his fever. Piper wished this was a storybook and she could take away all his pain with kisses and cuddles, but it wasn't and she was stuck with an unhappy little boy who didn't want to take his medicine.

"I don't know what to do," she admitted as she ran a weary hand through her hair, pushing it away from her forehead. "He's so upset, Niall. I have to do something but he refuses to take the medicine and he's been crying for ages and he won't even drink his water because he's so uncomfortable —"