Larry Stylinson Imagines

the token sickfic

If you come out of this with diabetes I'm sorry. There are reasons I try not to write fluff.

Louis wiped his eyes and glared at the ceiling. If he didn't know any better, his nose was exploding, along with his ears. Congestion is real, and once she's there, she's not leaving.

"Louis?" Harry murmured from his side of the bed. "You doing alright?"

"No."

"You've been sick for a week." He sighed and swung his legs out of bed, slouching over. Louis turned and watched the outline of his figure, standing out against the still dark bedroom walls. "Do you want some Sudafed?"

"Can you just come back here for a minute? I just need a minute."

"To what? Die?" He sighed and got back in bed. Louis grabbed at him, nuzzling into his chest.

"I dunno, but I want my heater."

"You're hot, Louis."

"Thanks."

"Not what I meant." He placed the back of his hand on Louis's forehead. "I think you're running a fever."

"And I thought I'd be getting better a week in."

Harry gave him a small smile and sighed. "Well, you probably should be." He stood and walked to the door. "I'm gonna let you sleep, okay?"

"Alright."

"I love you."

"Love you too, Hazza."

There was a sudafed and a coffee on the nightstand when Louis woke up. He picked up the note next to the mug. In not so neat writing was the number for a doctor and a scribbled heart. "Call me when you wake up," were the last few words on it. Louis smiled and picked up his phone.

"I want you to know that I'm feeling much better after this," Louis said into it, listening to Harry's laugh on the other line. "Much, much better."