salute [h.s]

the one where harry takes a tumble

"Have you lost your damn mind!?"

Today was a good day.

Piper had woken up after a dreamless sleep to Harry dozing soundly at her side, even though it was late in the morning. Ever since he'd come home from the hospital, he'd been sleeping fitfully — both because of the pain and because her dreams woke both of them up. She was happy to see him sleeping so soundly. And his little snore, a side effect of his still healing chest wound, was absolutely adorable.

She was shit at cooking but she figured she could manage some toast and that she could do a bit of breakfast in bed for Harry. It had been nice eating in the library over the weekend but Harry had been forced back into bed for the rest of the day after his trek down the stairs by himself had tired out his sore muscles. She wanted to spend some time with her boyfriend and he needed to be awake for that so she was going to help him stay as rested and comfortable as possible so he'd remain conscious for the majority of the day.

She managed to slip out of the bed without waking Harry and she knew it had to be his pain medication keeping him this drowsy. Usually if she so much as shuffled, he was reaching out a hand to check on her, even in his sleep.

It worked out for the better because it meant Piper could get out of the room without waking him, Bertie trotting out after her. She let him out in the backyard and then bustled around the kitchen, putting the kettle on and popping some bread in the toaster. Harry was usually an organic nut butter sort of person but he was an invalid right now so Piper figured he'd earned some nutella, sugar content be damned. Also, it meant that she wouldn't get flack from him when she slathered her own toast with nutella. It was the best of both worlds.

She was pouring some milk into Harry's earl grey when a thundering crash on the stairs startled her, making her spill the milk all across the counter. It only took a second for her to throw down the container and run across the kitchen to the stairs. That was most definitely the sound of someone taking a fall down the stairs and there was only one other person in the house.

Sure enough, Harry was sitting in a crumpled heap on the landing between the two flights, his legs sprawled out in front of him and his arm wrapped protectively over his middle. When she raced up the stairs to meet him, he looked up with a confused expression, a glassy sheen over his eyes that alluded to him not being fully cognizant.

"Harry, what happened?" she asked as she dropped to her knees in front of him. She cupped his jaw with her hand, directing his face up so she could see him clearer.

Harry blinked slowly at her for a moment and she worried he'd hit his head until he swallowed hard and mumbled, "dizzy."

"Did you fall down the stairs?" she asked him worriedly as her hands began roving over his bare chest, pressing gently in the way Niall had taught her to look for tenderness. While his abdominal wound was mostly healed and just caused Harry some tenderness, his lung had been torn when he was shot and the repair process was a lot more difficult. On top of that, the bullet had broken one of his ribs and it still hadn't healed all the way, leaving the possibility that it could splinter and puncture something.

Harry nodded sullenly, reaching a lethargic hand up to rub his forehead. "Lost my footing."

Piper took a deep breath, hanging onto it for a moment before letting it go. She was trying really hard not to freak out right now. She'd been filled with adrenaline when she'd first heard the crash but now it was starting to wear off and her fear and worry for Harry and his condition were threatening to take over. She needed a clear head.

She let her eyes wander for a moment, checking Harry's legs to make sure he hadn't twisted or bruised anything. Looking around the floor of the landing, she realized something was missing.