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As requested, a snotty nosed, whiny werewolf is here to brighten up your sunday! A second part of mean daddy harry ft. friend is coming soon :) 

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A sick Harry, was an obnoxious Harry, Y/N learned.

You’d think a werewolf would be much stronger when they’re ill, considering they turn into what could possibly thousands of pounds of wolf when they want to, but it’s apparent that they are big babies. Or at least Harry is a big baby -- when Niall came over snuffy he only requested a tissue box and a horror movie marathon -- so when she’d gotten a call from Mitch saying that Harry was in route with something of a fever (and he wanted to be with her) she’d expected the same. Prepped a box of Puff’s Plus, turned on Netflix for a romantic comedy, and moved the coffee table to make a soft pallet on the floor of pillows and thick blankets thinking that the Alpha of the pack would pretend to be well enough to stay awake (but this gave him a chance to just close his eyes). 

Instead, there’s a soft knock on the door and when she opens it, Harry is practically throwing his body weight against her and immediately whining, “I do not feel well, Puppy,” he sniffles, “Please rub behind my ears.” 

He had laid his head against her breast and found comfort in leaning fully against her as she slinked her fingers through his hair, carding it out of his face and rubbing carefully behind his ear. Thought that maybe that would be it, just him resting with her and fading in and out of movies. 

But then he woke up complaining about a grumbly tummy, so she got up to make him vegetable soup and cut up the soft pieces of French bread she had for him. When she brought it to him she imagined he would sit up and feed himself, and he did sit up, but then he looked at her like a hurt puppy and said with the scratchiest voice, “Would you feed it to me, Pet? I would myself but I’m just so cold I do not want to untuck my hands from the covers.” 

And she did it, because he just looked so soft and sleepy and ill how could she tell that pouty little face no? So she took spoonfuls of it for him, slipping it into his mouth and dipping the bread in the broth and having him bite from it. He was such a careful, gentle either, and beckoned a kiss afterwards because, “I’ve gained the best mate to have ever walked this earth.” 

She hadn’t minded that -- thought it was kind of cute, even, and was happy that she could finally take care of him in the way he always cares for her. Plus, two or three days of cozying up with a snuggly, sick Harry who had nothing to do but squeeze his arms around Y/N and murmur how much love he has for her in his heart? What more could she ask for really? 

But on the fourth day, when he was still snotty, and whining, complaining about the taste of the medicine and waking her up when she’d finally drifted to sleep asking her where it was again she left her lavender bubble bath (which really just meant that he wanted her to run the bath for him) -- she was a little over it. Not too terribly. . .this is the man that dotes on her hand and foot when she barely stumbles over her feet. . .but if he kept flopping about restlessly on their pallet at 3AM when she’s finally able to drift off to sleep, she was going to whack him with a rolled magazine. 

He was a cryer too! Which was oddly endearing but felt like subtly conniving, because anytime she reacted a slight bit grumpy while she combed her fingers through his hair, his eyes would water. A pooling of tears at his waterline, slipping his bottom lip from his mouth, and murmuring, “You are too wonderful. I do not deserve such a gracious mate as you in my life,” before he maneuvered them so that he cradled her to his chest and snuggled her tight to his body, “I love you more than the moon.” And while his words ring true, she can sense he is sensing when she’s getting tired of rubbing on him. 

“You’re the whiniest little pup,” she would tell him, but would still trail her fingers along the skin of his arm wrapped around her waist, “Lucky that I have a soft spot for dogs.” In return, Harry would snuffle, snuggle into her throat, and repeat his love for her.

Grandpa, as if having been recruited, had not removed himself from the pallet of blankets. He had glued himself to Harry’s side -- if Harry moved, he moved, and with every shiver that would wrack through Harry’s body despite the millions of covers he lie beneath, Grandpa made himself a radiating heat at his side. Y/N had to say bye to her midnight Gramps cuddles because Harry had turned to top priority and the Canines have to stick together in some regard. 

So she’d been pushed off to the side by her own dog, had a whiny werewolf clung to her side who whimpered if she dared try to leave him alone, and had begun a weird little habit of gnawing at the collar of her shirt in the middle of his sleep. She hadn’t understood what it had been at first having just been woken up, thinking that Grandpa had reverted to his puppy like propensity when he would suckle at her blankets, but Grandpa was snoring at Harry’s feet peacefully. Then, when she began to crane her neck to look at the boy pressed behind her, there was a soft little grumbly growl and the arm around her waist wrapped tighter and Y/N realized through her mind clouded with a sleepy fog, that it was Harry. 

She patted around for her phone, seeing that it was barely six in the morning and swiping her phone open so she could go to Niall’s contact. 

So, what does it mean when he chews at my shirt? 

Niall almost immediately answers. 

Loves and finds comfort in you. very pup move the lil ones do it to me all the time. 

Almost as if on cue, he rumbles to life in a purr and Y/N finds herself relaxing against him despite his weird gesture, sliding her hand over his own and giving a soft squeeze. Something about this rouses Harry from his slumber, and very slightly does she feel him remove himself from her shirt. His lips move to her throat, pushing an opened mouth kiss to the tender skin. “G’morning Darling,” he rasped, “I hope I did not wake you.” 

“You didn’t,” she murmurs, “I promise.” 

It’s on the seventh day, when Y/N comes home from work to find a two ton wolf in her living room with Grandpa tucked against his tummy, that Harry is beginning to feel better. Or at least says Niall, who is following close behind with about ten buttercream cookies in his hands. The sound of the door shutting with a click awakens him and Grandpa both, who raise their heads and face the door, “Oh God,” she murmurs, seeing how large he appears in her small living room, “What’s this?” 

“Someone’s feeling better,” Niall says through a mouthful, swiping a crumb from the corner of his mouth, pulling apart a piece of the cookie and hand feeding it to Grandpa who had come to greet them. Harry lies his head back down against the back of his paws and huffs through his nose, grumbling as Y/N comes to pet his head, “Oi! Don’t be rude.” Niall exclaims and Y/N looks over to him with her brows furrowed. She often forgets they can communicate with one another even when one is in their wolf form. Niall sets the cookies down on the coffee table that had been long forgotten since Harry had come over, “You’re just mad ‘cos you’ve got to go back.” 

“Can you explain what’s going on?” Y/N finally asks and Niall sticks his tongue out at a grumbly growl Harry gives. 

“He feels better now but he doesn’t want to because he likes being here and havin’ you spoil him, so now he’s hiding in his wolf form so you don’t know,” Niall tells her and when Y/N looks over to the wolfish Harry, he tucks his head down and hides it with his paw, “Well, she was g’na find out anyhow!” 

She feels equal parts gracious that he feels better and she would no longer have to take on the role of a den mother to help him feel better and a little sad that this bubble of them would come to a small pop. As much as she disliked being interrupted from her studies or having to toss snotty tissues in the trash, she enjoyed his company immensely, and she knows that the warmth of his body tucked against her own while watching countless romantic comedies will be something she has to wait again for. A hundred percent, unadulterated access to Harry had been incredibly nice and the ever present worry in his brow had been alleviated. Hell, she would even miss the weird collar chewing. 

So she pushes a kiss to his head and pats at him, “Why don’t you change back and you can have one more night of shameless doting,” she offers him, “How does that sound?” 

Harry nudges his head up against her but she does see his eyes flick over to Niall’s. 

She grins, “I’ll even kick Niall out.” 

“Hey!”