One Direction | Preferences

Your Child Gets Sick In The Middle Of The Middle Of The Night

Your Child Gets Sick In The Middle Of The Night

A/N: For Paige as always, because everything I write about children is for her. Feedback would be wonderful :) x

Niall: You wake up to small hands shaking your shoulder, blinking your eyelids open to find Samantha next to the bed, eyes wide and watery as she whispers your name, still in her nightie. “Sam?” you murmur, sitting up and sliding your fingers through your hair, pushing it off your face, “What’s wrong, baby?” “My head really hurts.” You coo softly, pulling her up and onto the bed, tucking her against your body, warm from sleep and Niall, who’s still slumbering on behind you, her head resting on your shoulder. “You want me to get you some medicine?” She shakes her head, little fingers curling into the t-shirt you’re wearing, just as Niall wakes, reaching out to brush some hair out of her Sammie’s face, “S’going on, guys?” he asks, pulling himself up onto his elbow and grinning at Samantha, who manages a weak smile back. You twist to look at him, “She’s got a headache.” “Aw,” he murmurs, leaning forward to kiss her head, “I’ll get you some medicine, yeah, baby girl?” She snuffles and burrows further into your neck, but you nod at him, “Please. Thanks, Ni.” He smiles at you, already leaving the bedroom, off to find some children’s panadol.

Harry: “(Y/N)!” Harry’s yell disturbs the whole house, you can hear Nathan grumbling in the bedroom next to yours, most likely pulling a pillow over his head and cursing the family as most fifteen year old boys tend to do. “I need you to come here right now, please!” You’re already getting out of bed by the time he speaks again, rushing towards where it sounds like he is and peeking into Alice’s bedroom, finding Harry indeed in there, although he’s holding a bucket for her as she pukes into it, one of Harry’s hands gripped tightly in hers as she cries, because throwing up is never a pleasant experience. “Hey, babe,” he greets, only in a pair of sweatpants, curls in disarray as he rubs her back, grimacing at the sound of her being sick. “Could you get us some water please?” “Yeah, sure,” you nod, already turning away to find Esme behind you, eyes wide and concerned, ‘What’s happening?” You pick her up, setting the five year old on your hip as you hurry towards the kitchen, “Alice is just being a bit sick. We need to make her feel better.” She nods earnestly, all seriousness for a girl in a princess nightie and hair in pigtails that Harry had slaved over. Even Nathan eventually stumbles out, doing his bit for the sick family member, fetching a cool towel, and it’s quite something to watch your family band together.  

Liam: You’re woken by an awful retching sound and the sound of rustling bed sheets, before there are small feet racing down the hallway, the bathroom door slamming open, a choked call of ‘Mum!’ You roll from the bed, grabbing a t-shirt as you go and yanking it over your head as you hurry towards the bathroom, Liam just stirring in the bed. “Babe? Oh, Jazzy, baby.” Jasmine’s left little spots of sick in the hallway which you manage to step over, before finding her hunched over the toilet, puking into the bowl, face red and streaked with tears. “Shh, it’s okay,” you murmur, crouching down behind her and gathering her hair in one hand, rubbing her back with the other, “You’re okay.” Liam arrives, knuckling his eyes and only in boxers, but jerking into action as soon as he sees the two of you, reaching to get her a glass of water. She empties her stomach, sitting down on the bathroom floor and letting you wipe her face with a towel, all her ten year old bravado disappearing as soon as she’s sick, before passing her the water glass, which she sips at. “You’re okay,” you promise, tying her hair back gently and kissing her head. “I’ll clean this up,” Liam sighs, eying the mess, and you smile at him, blowing him a kiss, “Thank you.”

Louis: Louis getting up brings you halfway into consciousness, the sneezing from the bedroom down the hall waking you up fully as Louis leaves the bedroom, running a hand through his hair and yawning as he pads out into the lit hallway and into Aaron’s room. “Hey, buddy, you okay?” he murmurs, and after the answering cough combined with another sneeze, you get up as well, pulling a discarded jumper over your t-shirt as you follow Louis down the hall. Aaron has tissues scattered around him, making it look vaguely like he’s in the middle of a snowstorm, his nose bright red, eyes watery, and he just looks exhausted. “Let’s get you some medicine and a glass of water to help your throat, yeah?” Louis suggests, picking up the seven year old boy and setting him on his hip, grabbing the tissue box on his way out, smiling at you when he spots you in the doorway. “Hey, babe. Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” You shake your head, “It’s fine, I’ll go get some cold medicine, yeah?” He grins, “Thanks.” “The grape flavour,” Aaron pipes up, voice scratchy and rough, wincing when the words leave his mouth. “Sure thing, baby.” 

Zayn: A hacking cough disturbs the night, and you blink awake bleary, snuggling back down into Zayn’s chest before another phlegmy cough reaches your ears, making you sit up. There’s a quiet whispery sound, like someone who’s lost their voice is trying to talk, before there’s more couching, and by now you’re getting up, making your way into your daughter’s bedroom. “Liv?” “Mum?” Someone rasps, and you flick the lights open, finding Oliva sitting up, eyes watery and hair messy as she leans over again, coughing. “Are you okay, baby? Is it asthma again?” She manages to nod, gulping in a few gasps of air before slipping into a fit again, and you grab the inhaler from the shelf, sitting down on the bed next to her, Zayn appearing in the doorway, sleepy and soft, immediately taking in the situation and leaving in search of a glass of water while you rub Liv’s back and hold the inhaler to her mouth, helping her reclaim the airways in her lungs. Zayn comes back with the water glass, insisting you go back to bed while he sits with her, singing and telling her stories until she drifts back to sleep. You enter the bedroom in the morning to find the two of them crammed into Olivia’s princess bad, Zayn’s feet hanging off the end, his little girl tucked up against his chest.