Niall Horan imagines

Trying to wake him up

Soft hairs were tickling the skin beneath your chin with every rise of your chest, Niall's lashes fluttering lightly over your collarbone every time he blinked, eyes trained on the telly. It would've been relaxing, peaceful even, but Niall's skin was, quite literally, searing as it pressed against yours. For a moment, you wanted to let it go, considering the fact that his skin was naturally extremely warm. But when the sound of his breathing hitched a bit, a slight sniffle following, you knew something was wrong.

"Ni," you murmured, twirling your fingers around a lock of his soft hair.

"Niall, wake up." You hadn't even realized when he fell asleep, but now you were trapped in his grasp, half of his body weight slumping over yours, limbs heavy with fatigue.

"Niall." Normally, he'd grumble at the tiniest disturbance of his rest, muttering words under his breath, but now, he was quiet, the corners of his lips tugging downwards only the slightest bit. Eventually, you'd managed to wriggle out of his grasp, being sure to leave a pillow beneath his head before heading off to the medicine cabinet in search of the thermometer.

"Niall." This time, he stirred, hands automatically reaching for your waist to pull you close, tugging until you were sat beside his sprawled out body.

"I'm going to need to check your temperature, okay?" Again, to your surprise there was no complaint, instead his lips parted willing. Fever.

"Niall, why didn't you tell me you were feeling poorly? You're burning up," you'd scolded with the back of your hand pressed to his forehead. He frowned again, eyes still fluttered shut, wordlessly tugging on your hands so he could lay on your chest again.

"Come back here," he mumbled. But you were ignoring him, attention focused on taking care of that fever.

"Where are you going?" he whined, question answered when you'd returned with a pack of crackers and some medicine.

"Here. Eat some of these, and take this." When he didn't protest again, you carded your fingers through his hair, returning his frown with a pout of your own. Guilt pooled in the pit of your stomach at the realization that you hadn't noticed his tired eyes and slumped shoulders sooner.

"Okay," you murmured when he had finished, his head leaning forward to rest on your stomach, arms back around your waist, encouraging your fingers back into his hair.
"Let's get you to bed, okay?"

Only then did a protest escape his lips, words muffled into the fabric of your t-shirt. Despite the fact that his words were inaudible, you could still make out the strain of his voice, a crack sounding somewhere in between his statement. "Hmm?"

You'd managed to coax his head away, a tired blue gaze meeting yours. "I'm only going to bed if you come with me."

Despite knowing you wouldn't be able to get a wink of sleep with his overheated body pressed against yours, you agreed, contentment spreading though your body as he managed to finally give you a small smile. "Let's go to bed then."

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I had this in drafts a really long time ago.

I don't know what to write about. Could you give me some request please? Thanks.

Love you babes. xx