When both of you have a cold (Patreon)

Sleeping in a winter storm outside really slows down the immune system

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Y/N feels like quite possibly the worst girlfriend in the world. 

Not only had she forgotten to check the weather prior to what was supposed to be pleasant, fondly looked upon camping trip that was free of icy temperatures and blankets of snow, but by the time they could make it home, both of them had become ill. It had started with Y/N, nose chapped and bitten by the chill was a constant state of damp around her nares, where the snot had originally been frozen from the cold air. As soon as they both climbed into the range rover having packed up everything they spent hours unpacking, there was a sigh of relief as the heat-blasted into their face. However, this celebration of warmth was short-lived when it melted the frost from around Y/N’s sinuses and she soon became a sneezy, sniffly mess. 

She thought maybe it would stop there, but when they got to Harry’s flat (which might as well be hers at that point, she never left) went to take a hot bath and when Y/N declined when he extended the offer in favor of napping on the couch. When she woke, it was to Harry sneezing, her throat was dry and sore, her head ached, and her whole body felt like weighed down mush. Through bleary eyes she found that Harry was in no better shape, his nose rubbed raw and red by the tissue he’d crumpled in his hand, dressed in his thickest sweatpants and his biggest sweatshirt like he needed to retain all the heat that he can. 

Y/N questions how they could have gotten sick so fast until she remembered just a few days prior when she hefted up a close friend’s baby eye level before it had promptly sneezed directly into her face. She had brushed it off, pretended as if it hadn’t happened but saw a knowing glance from Harry who stood across the room from her. With her face scrunched up, she shot him a wink and continued to babble with the baby. 

So it was her who had gotten sick initially, and it was her who didn’t think twice about it the following days as she begged for kisses and gave him her best puppy dog eyes until he gave in. It was her who put them in a situation where their immune system probably slowed to a crawling speed, letting whatever cold virus that child had spread to her take hold of them. And it was her whose eyes filled with tears because she’s understanding all of this but she also doesn’t feel good and she hates the thought that she is a direct cause for Harry not feeling well. 

Harry’s eyes went wide, brows furrowed as he discarded the tissue in the waste bin and made his way toward her, “What’s wrong, Darling? Do you not feel well?” 

She shook her head but then contradicted it with a nod as his hands slid into hers, soft and big against her palms as he manipulates them so he’s holding her more firmly, and she bets he smells like lavender which would really soothe her if she could smell at all. With a shaky breath, she looks at him meekly, “I got us sick,” she grouses, “I froze you out an entire night, ruined our trip, and to put the cherry on the cake I let a baby sneeze in my face and I got us sick!” Y/N doesn’t know if it’s how melodramatic she’s being or if it’s how plugged up and stuffy she sounds, but whatever it may be, it has Harry giggling which only furthers her whining, “Don’t laugh at me!” 

“I’m not Baby, I’m not,” he says around a chuckle, giving her hands a squeeze before he reached up to her face and cradled her cheek in his palm -- she leans into it graciously, his hand cooled to the heated skin, “You didn’t get us sick, Sweetheart, in all technicality the baby got us sick. I was loving on him too, remember?” Vaguely does she recall Harry sat with the baby, blowing a raspberry like kiss into his cheek until the baby was laughing and trying to plant an open mouth baby kiss onto his face -- the image makes her smile, “And I already told you Ihad so much fun last night, even if we got snowed in in the end. Plus, how could I freeze when I had your little heater of a body beside me, hm?” 

He strokes the skin attentively as Y/N’s pout does not drop from her face, “I’m the worst girlfriend.”

Through a snort, he shakes his head, “No you aren’t,” he murmurs, leaning in and pecking a kiss to her pouty mouth, “Now Stuffy,” he sniffles hard, holding out his hands to her, “G’na get you a nice, hot bath and m’orderin’ us soup ‘cos I really can’t be arsed to make it.” He musters his strength and drags her up, steadying her when she’s a bit off balance and guiding her toward the bathroom, “Which blankets do you wanna cuddle up in? I’ll get them sorted and we’ll get you some medicine so you start feeling better.” 

“No taking care of me,” she tells him, shaking her head, “You’re sick too, you need to rest.” 

“And I will, Sweetheart, but I’ve already dosed myself with some Dayquil so I feel a bit better than you right now,” he stops by his towel closet, dragging out his biggest, fluffiest towel that classifies as a “bath sheet” on their way, “What time is it, ‘round 9AM? What d’ya say we nap on and off all day? Doesn’t that sound good?” 

Y/N nods and wonders how Harry knows the key to her heart as she leans over to crank the hot water on, “You have to let me pet on you,” she tells him seriously, “Or play with your hair. I wanna take care of you too.” 

“I won’t say no to that, Sweetheart.” 

                                                      .                             .                          .

They did as he said; she sunk into a steaming bath that momentarily cleared her sinuses, he appeared in the doorway about twenty minutes in with a cup full of medicine and a strawberry juice to wash it down. When she had pruned and finally decided to crawl out of the tub, she wrapped herself in the bath sheet, goes to the room and finds that he picked her out her comfiest sweatpants and one of her favored sweatshirts of his (it was nothing fancy, it was just big, olive green, and cozy - it’s the one she cuddles up in when he’s away). She changed, made her way downstairs to find that he had gathered every one of his softest, warmest blankets onto the couch something queued up on the telly. Harry was nowhere to be seen until he appears from the kitchen, holding two bowls of soup that have steam looming above them. 

“There she is,” he murmured with a smile, nodding toward the couch, “Go on and sit.” 

As they eat, the soup soothing their throats and warming their bellies, they watch a show that she couldn’t be arsed to find the name of (but it felt like a fever dream within itself). Harry finished eating before her and promptly began whining for her to hurry up so that they could cuddle. She coaxed the last bit down her throat, moved to take their bowls to the kitchen sink but Harry grabbed her before she could pick them both up and dragged her down to the couch beside him, “None of that, we’re cuddling. And I do believe you said you’d pet on me?” 

That’s where their day starts and ends altogether. Around 11 AM, Y/N is running her fingers through Harry’s soft curls, playing with them specifically at the nape of his neck where it made him shiver. They both waiver in and out of sleep, Y/N only allowing herself when she felt Harry snore against her, body sinking into the cushions, cuddling closer to his warmth, feeling content and warm, satiated even. For the time that she could breathe, she was inhaling the lavender scent of his bath as she dipped her toes in slumber. 

She wakes up an hour later, Harry having maneuvered them so she was lying against his chest and his fingers traced up and down where the sweatshirt had rucked up on her side. When she tilted her head, craning her neck so that she could scold him for it, his eyes were shut and he seemed to be barely conscious himself. Y/N had no room in her heart to bother him, so she lets him continue, feeling as it slowed to a stop before she took his hand in her own, laced their fingers together and promptly fell back to sleep herself. 

The next time she wakes, it’s two hours later and Harry has disappeared. Her neck is sweaty, her eyes are bleary and she gets those agitated, child like grumbles from her throat. She’s moments from standing to see where he’d gone but he returns, rubbing his eye with his knuckle the best he could from having a water bottle in it, his other preoccupied with another one. 

“Where’d you go?” She pouted at him, her words come out scratchy as he waved the waters. 

‘We’ve got to stay hydrated, baby,” he told her with his own voice croaky, plopping back down on the couch and encouraging her to lean against him as he sat, though he did hand her the water, “Drink some -- how’re you sleeping?” 

Y/N snuffles, the medicine beginning to wear off slightly, “Good -- you’re so warm,” she praised him, “And m’freezing.” 

“Do we need more covers?” She shook her head, swallowing down half the bottle and taking to snuggling further into his side, “You just want to cuddle?” Her response is a nod, and he chuckles, “Cutie,” he covered them both with the blanket, “Y’know, I quite like being sick with you. It’s been good just to snuggle and sleep all day, and not feel bad about it. 

She nodded, breathing in a deep, contented sigh, “S’a shame m’snotty,” she told him, “I would suck you off, but I can’t breathe through my nose.” Harry laughed as Y/N turned up to face him, “Can I have a kiss?” She puckered and pouted her lips at him, and after a short-lived tease of “no, I don’t wanna catch your cold” he bent down and smeared his lips over hers. 

“What do you want for dinner, hm? I think I might get soup again, I liked the kind you had but I didn’t wanna ask for too many bites.” 

Y/N scrunched her face, “You’re kidding me,” she begins, shaking her head, “I liked what you got, but I thought I’d bother you if I asked for more than two.” 

Snorting as much as he could without snot gathering at the back of his throat, he shakes his head, “We’re the worst.” 

This time Harry falls asleep first, and Y/N waits until around dinner time to order them both soup and tipped the driver extra for having to navigate through the weather. By the time she had coaxed Harry awake, it was dark out, she’d dimmed the living room lights and had their food set up and ready for them. She poured them both some more medicine, they counted to three and took it together with their faces puckering at the taste before they both rushed to shove a spoonful of soup into their mouths. Once again they are warmed, soft, and exhausted, Harry has a five-second facetime chat with Jeff who agrees they both look terrible, and this time they decide to turn on a movie. It was a Thriller of some sort -- one of those that you scroll by on Netflix normally but for some reason, it seemed necessary to watch on a day like today. 

It was then that Y/N began to revel in how much she enjoyed this. She hated being sick, sure, and she felt guilty about making them sleep out in the cold, kickstarting what had happened when the baby sneezed in her face, definitely -- but this was nice. No hustle and bustle, no go, go, go -- just the both of them, cuddled close, enjoying the presence and warmth of one another as their bodies work to feel better. This might be one of her favorite days that they’ve shared together, being snotty and croaky, pecking kisses on lips sticky from honey vanilla cough drops. 

“I love you.” She tells him, at an oddly quiet moment in the movie and she realized she hadn’t paid any attention to it for the past twenty minutes to understand what was going on. 

Harry pulled her in closer, “I love you more,” he nuzzled into her hair, “Was it the chase scene that made you think of that, or are you just feelin’ sweet?” 

“Feeling sweet,” she answered, “And there’s just something about cars --” 

“Hush,” he shook his head, but his body rumbles with a laugh, “M’feeling sweet too.”