1D sickfics

Food poisoning: Harry

Okay here's another one. Sorry if it's short but I had a lot typed, then I forgot to save it and lost it all so I'm pissed at wattpad right now and don't feel like writing anything very long.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Your p.o.v.

"So how was your day?" I asked, trying to make conversation. Harry was being unusually quiet tonight.

"Okay I guess," he replied.

"Why okay?" I asked him, worried that something bad had happened.

"Just, boring you know. We haven't had a break in a while and they're really pounding us on recording lately. It's stressful and we just need a break," he sighed, shrugging.

"When is your next break?" I asked, knowing that he'd told me, but I couldn't remember.

"Not for a few weeks yet," was his vague answer.

I nodded, trying to think of something else to talk about, since he wasn't trying very hard to make conversation.

"What did you do all day, since you didn't work?" he asked finally.

I work at a dance studio teaching classes, but they're closed on Sundays so I have the whole day to myself usually.

"Well, I watched two episodes of Supernatural, stretched, choreographed some routines for tomorrow's classes, read my book, and did some chores," I summed up my day.

"What book?" he asked.

"The off season," I answered.

Harry winced and shifted I his seat, moving his hands under the table.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

"What? Uh, yeah I'm fine. Is the, uh, book good?" he asked, looking flushed.

"Yeah I really like it," I said, eying him suspiciously.

"What chores did you do?" he asked.

"Some dishes, two loads of lay dry, swept, and vacuumed," I listed off.

"Wow, I can't even remember the last time I vacuumed my house," he laughed.

"Your house is a mess," I agreed.

"What can I say," he shrugged.

I rolled my eyes at him, knowing he never cleans. He sure can cook, but he's not a housekeeper. He did better when him and Louis shared a flat because Louis is even messier.

"Do you think we could go?" he asked nervously.

"Um, sure," I replied.

Usually he wants to spend as much time as possible with me because he's so busy.

We'd already paid, and had just been sitting at our booth, talking, so we got up and headed towards the door.

I'd driven this time, so I got in the drivers seat, and he sat down on the passengers side.

"Are you sure your okay?" I asked once we got close to my house. It was getting kind of annoying. I know something's wrong but he keeps denying it.

He was squirming around a lot and his hands were clenched in fists.

"Yeah, just tired," he answered, giving me a small smile.

"Okay," I said, my face softening.

I held up my hand in his direction and waited until he's laced his fingers with mine to drop my hand, and his, down to rest on the seat.

He seems awfully clammy. His hands are almost always cold. That's weird.

"You still want to come back to my place for a while, or do you want to go back to the bus and sleep?" I asked, knowing how exhausted he was.

"We don't get to hang out very often, but I am really tired," he reasoned.

"It's whatever you want," I said, even though I wanted him to come back home with me.

"Could I just stay at your house tonight?" he asked.

"Of course," I answered, smiling widely.

"Great," he said, grimacing again.

"Harry?" I asked, sighing.

"It's nothing," he whispered, sounding upset.

I pulled into my garage and turned the car off. When I looked over, Harry was biting his lip, looking like he was about to cry.

"Jesus Haz what's wrong?" I asked, not understanding why he won't just tell me.

"Let's go inside," he whispered.

"Fine," I sighed, getting out of the car and walking to the back door, unlocking it.

I waited there for Harry to come inside. He was walking really slowly.

When he got to the door, instead of walking through, he stopped, and wrapped his arms around me, leaning into me and pressing me into the door frame.

"Oh Harry," I said, rubbing his back.

"I don't feel good," he said, starting to cry.

"Baby, why didn't you tell me?" I asked. I felt him shrug against me.

"Okay, let's go inside," I said, pulling back from him and taking his hand, leading him to the couch.

After he sat down, I went and got him some water and sprite.

"Here you go babe. Is it your tummy?" I asked, noticing his hand resting on his stomach. He nodded, starting to rub it gently.

"I think the food was bad," he said shakily.

"I'm sorry hazza," I said gently, sitting down next to him.

He curled up to me, whining and rubbing his stomach again. The poor thing.

"Here, let me help love," I said, moving his hands and replacing them with my own. Then I rubbed his poor tummy until he fell asleep.

He ended up puking twice throughout the night, which he despises, but by the morning he was feeling loads better, and even went in to record.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

I'll do Louis later guys, hope you liked that one.