Can you write something where aster y/n takes care of Harry, maybe he's sick. He's always the one taking care of her and it would be nice to see the roles reversed and her doing it in her own way. It'd just be so cute. I'm in love with this series
its been fr years since this was sent I hope you're still around bestie shfushfus
wordcount: 5.3k+
—————
Harry gave a thin smile to his client, finishing wrapping up their new bicep tattoo.
"If y'have any questions about aftercare, just give us a call. The front desk will get you scheduled in for any more services y'need. Have a nice rest of your day."
Normally, Harry would have walked his client through everything. Even going so far as to head up to the desk with them and let them know any and all recommendations he had for needed touchups or what to expect over the next few weeks. But he didn't have that in him today.
Since lunch time, he'd felt the beginnings of a migraine pinching behind his eyes. It wasn't completely unbearable, figuring he could get through the rest of the day with his full books as long as he could keep his hands steady and eyes focused. Truthfully, as long as he didn't grow nauseous, he should be able to finish up his day, even if every other symptom was growing harder and harder to manage. While he wasn't exactly known for his sunny demeanor, this definitely wasn't helping.
Leaving his client to head up to the front desk, he went his own way to his office. Closing the door behind him, he sealed away the rest of the world in favor of the quiet setting and the dark lighting. Instead of moving towards his desk, he flopped down onto the couch, face down in the pillows.
He laid there, evening his breath and reveling in the less straining conditions until his migraine leveled into a duller ache. Now that the pounding had lessened to a throbbing ache, he could take stock of the rest of his body.
Hiding under the headache was a sore stiffness beginning to settle into his joints and muscles. His chest felt tight as he pulled in deep breaths, enough so that he worried he might be sent into a coughing attack if there was anything he could do other than wheeze.
Forcing his eyes open, he reached for his phone to check the time: 12:32pm.
The next thirty minutes was reserved for his lunch with another forty-five minute gap afterwards until his next appointment was scheduled for the afternoon. He had time, he decided. Time to nap off his headache and hopefully get it together long enough to finish out his day.
That's what he needed. Just a little nap and he'd be fine.
—————
"Harry, I'm here. Let's go home, okay?"
A soft voice penetrated Harry's dream, knocking him out of the too vivid depiction of his home town. Despite the recognizable lilt to the voice, he would rather do anything else than completely join the waking world. His head still hurt and he still had time before his next appointment he was sure. He'll just go back to sleep and whoever it was that was trying to wake him up would have to try again later.
"No, c'mon. We need to go home before you get worse, honey."
The soft pet name was what had Harry daring to peek his eyes open. It wasn't often that he heard that word wrapped in that voice. Apparently it was enough to bring a dead man back to the land of the living.
Above him, backlit by warm lamplight that might as well have been the golden light of heaven was his angel. Her brows were pinched in a furrow, lips turned into a frown. She wasn't happy, not at all. And that made Harry unhappy too, just adding to the pounding in his head.
"Angel?"
Harry's voice cracked around the syllables, sparking a dry pain in his throat that had him wincing away from his own vocal cords.
"Oh goodness," (Y/N) murmured above him, "H, why didn't you tell me you weren't feeling well? I would have stayed home from class today."
The lilt of her voice danced through his head, the words going in one ear and out the other. He could only blink up at her, a crackling grunt leaving him being all the acknowledgment he could give.
She gave him a strained smile then, lips thinned. "C'mon. Let's go home."
Harry wanted to go with her, he really did. But he couldn't. Not when his books were completely full with appointments.
"Can't," he choked out, shaking his head against the throw pillow cushioning him.
Her smile dropped in an instant, "Why not?"
"Gotta work," he answered simply, wincing at the pain in his throat. If he was lucky, the rest of his clients wouldn't be very talkative. And would be okay being tattooed in a dark room. "I have an appointment coming soon."
(Y/N) didn't answer right away, instead laying the back of her hand on his forehead. Her concern only grew at whatever she felt there. "No you don't, H, remember? Niall cleared your books," she muttered, "He came to check on you when he didn't see you after your lunch. He told you he was going to call me and get your appointments moved around."
He really did try to remember what it was that she was talking about, but the recall was pointless. Harry didn't remember Niall ever checking on him, let alone anyone telling him that (Y/N) was coming to pick him up—a detail he wouldn't forget until normal circumstances.
"Oh," he settled on, "Good."
That was enough to have a puff of humorless laughter leaving his angel before she was pulling on him again to get him up off the sofa. "Let's go home, honey."
Now, how could he deny her that?
This time when she tried to tug him off of the sofa, Harry actually helped, practically falling into her arms. Every muscle in his body hurt, joints incredibly stiff with every bend. The sweetest, pitying coo left his girl when she looped an arm around his middle, letting him lean against her while he draped his own over her shoulders.
(Y/N) took on the brunt of the hard work, leading them out of his office to get them out to her car. Harry moved on exhausted feet, his steps slow and a bit shaky now that he was face with just how ill his body felt.
But, he would make it, he thought. It wasn't a long drive at all to get home, and his love bug was here now so nothing was—
Who the fuck let the sun into the shop?
The second they stepped out of the hall that led down to Harry's office, passing the doors to the bathrooms and supply closet, he was faced with the wide open windows and the overhead lighting that reignited his migraine. The dull ache that awoke with him on the couch had now roared back to life, sitting once again at a pace to felt all too much like his brain was going to leave through his ears and he was going to throw up in the meantime.
To top it off, every bit of chatter from clients and the buzz from the tattoo guns was pinging through his ears. God, this fucking sucked so bad.
"Jesus Christ," Harry muttered under his breath, flinching away from every bit of light blaring around him with his eyes pinched closed. Bringing his free hand up, he shielded his closed eyes, a shadow being cast over the closed lids. It did little to quell the flare of his migraine but it was better than looking directly into the light, though now he was relying solely on (Y/N).
"You okay?" she murmured next to him, hand fisting the fabric of his shirt at his waist.
He barely grunted in response.
That was all that was said between them as (Y/N) led them through the shop. She spoke for the both of them when Niall (or who Harry thought was Niall anyway) asked if Harry was okay. He tuned into the melody of her voice, a point of clarity through the chaos as he subtly massaged at his temples as best he could through the stretched position of his hand.
"Clear him for tomorrow if you can, too, please," (Y/N) requested next to him, voice quiet compared to the roaring noise around them. "I don't think he'll be ready to come back, but I'll let you know."
Vaguely, Harry was aware of someone—Niall?—saying goodbye to him before he heard the tinkling of the bell over the shop door and the burst of fresh air chilling his skin as (Y/N) pulled him onto the sidewalk. The autumnal air cast a shiver down his spine, pointing out a layer of sweat he hadn't realized had shimmered over his skin.
They could have walked for two minutes or two hours for all Harry knew. He only opened his eyes again when he heard the telltale clicking of her car doors unlocking before (Y/N) started gently herding him into the passenger seat.
"Need help?" she asked when he fumbled with the seatbelt with unsteady hands.
Instinctively, Harry shook his head. She didn't need to take care of him, that was his thing, right? "I've got it."
That was the truth for another half second before (Y/N) was leaning in and taking the buckle from his uncoordinated grip and reaching around to click it into place.
"There," she smiled, pressing a kiss to his forehead before drawing away.
His eyes fell closed again as she shut the passenger door and moved to take her spot on the driver's side. She cranked the air conditioning on as soon as the engine whirred to life, aiming the vents on him despite the shivers he was already going through. He didn't protest, though, only furrowing his brow under his hand that was once again shielding him from the leaking rays of the sun.
"Try to sleep while I get us home, H," (Y/N) suggested, voice melting in with the hum of the engine. There was no music playing, the radio having been cut in favor of a much more palatable silence for the time being. His brain shrunk away from the exit plan through his ears—just a hair, but enough to help loosen the teeth-grinding clenching of his jaw.
He gave a pathetic nod before falling into his window, his seatbelt some kind of uncomfortable, nylon hammock for his cheek.
Despite the chill from the AC, the uncomfortable position he crushed himself into, and every ache going on in his body, it took all of two seconds before the world around him blurred and withered, sending him to sleep.
—————
"I know, but you need to take it."
Harry could have whined if his throat didn't hurt so much. He didn't want to take the medicine, didn't she get that?
It stunk and made his eyes water, and it was going to take too long to kick in anyway. He knew he had a migraine, he just needed to sleep it off. He didn't need to take any cold medicine or nap in the bedroom while she took care of all the household chores by herself. Besides, he was feeling a little better anyway, they just needed to keep the house dark and quiet, that's all.
Another crackly protest was about to leave Harry's dry lips until he heard a sniffle. Blinking his tired eyes open, (Y/N), still kneeling between his legs where he sat at the end of their bed, now had her head down, looking away from him. Her offerings of cold water and all his "needed" medicines were now tucked to her chest.
"Love..." he tried, trailing off when the crackling of his voice sent too many sparks of pain down his throat.
"Sorry," she peeped, "I just—It's really upsetting me seeing you like this, H. I just want to help you, and I don't know how if you don't take these."
An ache in his chest now joined everything else that hurt in him. He didn't like hearing the waver in her voice, how hurt she sounded. Almost as if she were on the edge of tears.
For a moment, he attempted to shove himself into a better frame of mind. If it were her—his angel girl, love bug, sweet love of his life—showing any of these symptoms, and she was refusing to take any kind of medicine? He would also lose it just a little.
Harry sighed—the sound coming out a bit nasally and not quite as deep of a breath as he anticipated—before reaching for her. "(Y/N), baby, don't cry. 'M sorry. I'll take it, yeah?"
That was all that he needed to say before she was looking up at him again with a sweet smile, the sniffles and near tears gone. She blinked at him, the water and medicine offered to him once more. "Thank you, H. This will make me feel so much better, really."
He narrowed his eyes at her, rethinking whatever that display was now that everything seemed to be just fine. Either way, he didn't have much of a choice as she shoved everything into his hands before rising to her feet and chattering off that she'd be right back.
Now it was just Harry, a pink water bottle with stickers of bows and hearts, and liquid cold and flu medicine. And the extra fever reducer for later—just in case.
He didn't even have a fever.
If not for the fact he knew she'd come back and make sure he really did take it like he said he would, Harry would have stashed everything away on his bedside table and called it a day. But, he couldn't lie to his love, not like this.
So, he measured out the dose of the cold medicine, had the water at the ready and took it in one swig. Just like he thought, it stung his throat on the way down and made his eyes water like he'd taken down mouthwash. His expression soured, even through the sips of water he pulled in, in hopes of clearing his palate of the taste.
At the very least, his sinuses now felt a little bit clearer.
A beat later, (Y/N) came back, thermometer in hand. "Not so bad, right?" she tried, encouraging smile on her face.
"Right," Harry deadpanned, looking at her through the fan of his lashes.
She immediately looked like a guilty puppy then, shying away under his gaze. "I promise it's gonna help, H. I'm sorry, really."
"I know," he murmured, croaky voice soothed some thanks to the water. Hooking his hands around the back of her thighs, he pulled her to stand between his spread legs with his eyes on the thermometer in hand. "That next?"
"Mhm," she hummed, "I want to make sure you're not too high or anything. It's...not good that you're not remembering conversations, so I just want to double check."
Back again was that deep concern on her face, swimming through her eyes and molding around her features. Harry couldn't be upset about any of her requests when she looked at him like that.
"Alright," he muttered, relenting right away as he opened his mouth, letting her slip the thermometer under his tongue.
As soon as the results popped up, (Y/N) pulled the device from his mouth, peering at the screen with furrowed brows. Her expression fell at whatever she found.
"What is it?" he asked, voice low enough that it didn't crack though it was far from smooth.
"You definitely have a fever, honey," she shared, lips puffed into a pout as she pushed his hair away from his face. "Lay down for a little while, the medicine should start working soon and it'll go down. I'll make some soup, too, and we can eat together, but you should sleep until then."
His hands on the backs of her thighs squeezed. He could feel the way his features loosened just that much at her words, even his shoulders and neck going a bit lax as he canted his head. "Honey?"
Her pout turns into a frown then. "You want honey? I can make you some tea, and I'll put some honey in it."
"No, no," he mumbled, the protest smearing together as he pulled her that much closer to him, his forehead coming to rest on the soft of her tummy. Had she given him the PM version of the cold medicine? "You called me honey. Again."
His words were slightly muffled against her top, but he was sure she would hear him. She always did.
"Is that okay?" she asked after a beat, her fingers in his hair making a slow rhythm through the strands.
"Mhm," he sighed, nodding against her. God, she was so warm. So, so, so warm. "I like it, a lot."
The sweet sound of a huffed giggle came from above him. "Okay. I'll remember that."
Satisfied with that answer, Harry moved to hug his arms around her waist instead of the hold he had on her thighs. "Will you sleep with me? Please?"
"H," she started, eyes already apologetic, "I need to clean up and then make you something to eat for when you wake up—"
"No," he cut her off, steeling his hold on her as he started falling back against the mattress, "Stay with me. It'll make me feel better."
(Y/N) gasped, hands grabbing for his shoulders as she fell with him into the tufts of their baby pink bedding (he let her choose the theming of their bedroom). She twisted just right, keeping herself from falling onto him and instead next to him. As soon as she recovered from the scare of the fall, Harry could hear the excuses she was working up to again.
He didn't give her a chance before he wiggled his way up to be level with her. He rested a large palm on her cheek, cradling her face in his hand.
"Please," he tried again, the slow blink he gave her was unintentional but seemingly effective when he saw her crumble right then.
She pursed her lips. "For a little," she conditioned, "Then I need to get up and do everything. Just until you fall asleep."
"Okay," he relented, uncaring of the terms she gave him. He knew her better than he knew himself: she wasn't going to leave him.
It didn't matter that once they had righted their position in bed, Harry stripped down to his boxers and (Y/N) in something more comfortable than her school clothes (no outside clothes in bed, a rule once they moved in together), his eyes closed nearly immediately once his head hit the pillow.
He knew she'd be right there when he woke up again.
—————
Every bone in Harry's body seemingly popped in unison when he stretched out. Consciousness came to him slowly, his first dreamless sleep of the day having sucked him in and kept him down and in the same position for hours on end. He was sure there were creases all over his cheek and arm where he had laid on them, knowing he hadn't moved an inch since he fell asleep.
Eyes still closed, he reached blindly for the warm body he expected to feel at his side.
Instead, he only got handfuls of cool sheets. That wasn't what he fell asleep with.
Harry laid there, frown etched on his face while he grasped the empty sheets. He wanted to go look for her, but his body still ached, even as he laid on the soft mattress. At the very least, his nap seemed to have willed away his migraine, but every other symptom remained. The cold medicine took the edge off the worst of it; including the fever he had to have been running earlier if the way his hair was pasted to the back of his neck, and the damp cling of the sheets to his back was anything to go by.
He took his time, pulling in heavy breaths through his scorched throat until he finally forced himself to peel his eyes open. The dark of their bedroom was a welcome sight. The heavy curtains—a detail installed at (Y/N)'s request—were drawn tight with their door closed to the rest of the house, and whatever noise could be happening over the threshold. At his feet, Evie was curled into a small roll, tail draped over her nose. She ignored him as he swung his legs over the side of the bed, a crackling sigh leaving him that caused a round of coughs to leave him.
Wincing into his elbow, Harry paused where he sat until he was able to catch his breath once more. Goosebumps rose over his skin when he felt the hardwood under his feet, suddenly entirely too cold in only his boxers. He moved in a daze through the room, blindly reaching for a pair of sweat shorts from a pile he still needed to organize into his dresser drawers—something he had planned on doing when he came home from work when he had gotten ready this morning.
Making it out of the bedroom, Harry almost winced away at the extra light he was now confronted with. But, he decided, he'd brave it for his girl. He missed her. He hated waking up without her, finding empty sheets at his side broke his already achy heart a bit.
Down the stairs, he heard the television operating at a low hum, her favorite reality show of the moment filtering through. Sniffling through his stuff sinuses, he caught a whiff of the soup she had teased earlier, fragrant and warm.
His descent down the steps quickened.
Making it to the landing, Harry caught sight of (Y/N) with their laundry basket nearly full of folded articles of clothing, the rest of the dryer-warm pieces in a pile on the sofa. Her attention was placed fully on the tv, jaw dropped as she listened to the couple arguing on screen. With how absorbed she was in the program, he was surprised she was still even folding.
A small crackling laugh left Harry when she gasped at whatever had been said.
Tearing her attention from the screen, she whipped around to face him with wide eyes, hands pausing on the pair of pants she was folding.
"Harry," she crooned, eyes quickly scanning over him in assessment, "I didn't know you woke up. How are you feeling?"
He cleared his throat before starting in her direction. "'M alright," he muttered, keeping his broken voice low. "Y'weren't there."
Quickly folding away the bottoms she had in her hands, she canted her head at him, hands landing on his forearms while his own settled on her waist. "What do you mean?"
Harry didn't care how pathetic he looked as he pouted down at her just before curling into her, head tucked into her neck. "Y'said you'd stay with me. Y'weren't there when I woke up. Why'd y'leave?"
"Oh, H," she sighed, moving to curl her fingers through his hair, the damp curls peeling away from his neck, "I'm sorry. I wanted to get things taken care of so I didn't have to worry about it when you were awake. And I promise you soup, right?"
Hugging his arms around her waist, Harry wanted so badly to deny her, say he didn't care and didn't like her logic. But he knew her and knew that he'd have done the same. He'd be taking care of every little chore to ensure she had not a single thing to worry about when she woke up. And there's no way he'd leave her to go hungry, even if she whined and cried at him to stay in bed with him.
As much as he didn't want to, he grumbled into her neck but nodded nonetheless. "Yeah."
Drawing away from him, she met his gaze, her softened irises matching his own. "Go ahead and sit down, and I'll get you a bowl, okay? I'll finish up the laundry, and then we can sit together."
The soft smile on her lips was so encouraging, too sweet to deny. There was a part of him that wanted to argue, tell her that he'd wait for her and help her along with the rest of the laundry basket. But he knew better.
(Plus, there was a part of him that was starting to melt under this kind of attention a little. There was nothing more he loved than taking care of his love, seeing the way she'd look at him and how sweetly she'd reach for him and seek him out in any crowd. But this—having her dote on him, hold him, play with his hair—was starting to show him why she liked it so much.)
So, he let her lead him to the other end of the sofa, wrapping a throw blanket around his shoulders before leaving him with a lingering kiss to his forehead. He all but keened under the affection. She left him with the remote to change the tv to whatever he wanted to watch but he knew he wasn't going to take this from her. At the very least, he'd let her keep her love show on while he got everything else he wanted.
It didn't take long before she came from the kitchen, bowl in both hands. It was cute to see the way she concentrated, making sure she didn't spill as she padded across the room. Placing the bowl on the coffee table before him, she dropped the spoon in. Chunks of potato floated through the herbed broth, fragrant garlic wafted throughout the room. Of course, a crusty chunk of bread was left to the side for him.
"Do you want water or tea?" she asked, "Or I can go get you something else if you want."
A warm smile bloomed over Harry's features. Nothing felt like being bathed in her attention.
"Jus' water is okay, love," he murmured, "Thank you."
"Okay," she nodded, pushing her hair out of her face, "Tell me if you change your mind, okay?"
God, if he could kiss her right now without the worry of getting her sick.
"I will, baby."
—————
"Okay, H, rinse."
Despite (Y/N)'s directions, Harry stayed exactly where he was, with his arms wrapped around her waist, head bowed for her to reach with shampoo sudsed hands. The steam from the shower warmed the entire room, having loosened every muscle, soothed each of his aching joints. While it had taken some coaxing to get him in here instead of just falling right back into bed—hence (Y/N) being in the shower with him—he was now dreading leaving the warmth of the spray. He could stay here forever at this point, especially with the way she had taken over washing his hair while letting him drape himself all over her.
(A hidden perk of moving in together, he'd found. He'd showered with her more in the last few months than he had in the last year of their relationship. She seemed to be a bit less shy now that there wasn't the possibility of a roommate finding out why the water had been running for so long).
"Harry," she sang, elongating the syllables of his name when he didn't move from her. "You've gotta rinse off, honey. Then we'll condition, soap up, and then we can go to bed."
"You're not washing your hair?" he muttered, features souring.
"No," she laughed, "I told you—that's why I have it pulled back. I'm going to do it myself tomorrow, I think."
"Why not tonight? I can do it for you."
She shook her head. "I'm not going to make you do that while you don't feel good, H. C'mon, we'll be quick."
He sighed then, letting her pull him back from the home he'd burrowed into her neck. She ran her fingers through his hair while the water ran through the strands, the bubbles washing down the drain along with the weight of the day. Even though he argued with her before, he was sure he was going to feel so much better after this.
Once he had been deemed ready, (Y/N) pulled him out of the spray of water. "Okay, conditioner."
Harry shook his head, tightening his hold around her waist. "Jus' let me hold y'for a minute, love."
"I thought you wanted to—"
"Jus' for a minute," he insisted, pulling her to him with his head returning to the warmth of her neck.
He was sure he was wetting her hair some, but (Y/N) didn't flinch from him. He felt her chest press flush to his as she pulled in a heavy breath, her own nose tucking against his shoulder.
"Just for a minute."
—————
"H, just one isn't going to kill me. You know I take all my vitamins and whatever. I'll be fine, I promise."
Harry had to close his eyes against the flutter of (Y/N)'s lashes as she blinked at him. Her skin was still warm from their shared shower, fresh sheets slipping around their tangled forms, and she was taking full advantage of just how pliant he was against his crumbling defenses.
Who knew a goodnight kiss would inspire such a spirited debate?
"'M not risking it, baby. I feel like shit, and 'm not going to make y'go through that if I can help it." In hopes of ending the argument, he tossed an arm over middle with his head aiming to nose against the crook of her neck.
Until (Y/N) dodged him. She moved right out of his way, looking at him with near-offended eyes and hand on his bare chest.
"Harry, please," she begged, "We've never gone to bed without a goodnight kiss. I don't care if I get sick."
"Well I do," he countered, voice crackling through his swollen throat.
"Then you worry for the both of us, I'll take a kiss instead."
He couldn't help the soft smile that tugged at the corners of his lips. He shook his head against the down pillow.
"You're spoiled, you know that?" Shifting, Harry propped himself up with an elbow under him, hovering over her.
(Y/N) knew she won by then, evidenced by the way she let a bright smile bloom across her mouth. "And whose fault is that?"
A loud laugh left him, the sound dry and scratchy through his throat. "What happened to my sweet girl? Now y'jus' love arguing with me."
A pout puffed her lips. "No, I don't. Do you feel like I fight with you a lot?"
"No, love," he sighed, ducking his head until the very tip of his nose grazed hers, his hair falling into a dark curtain around them, "'M just teasing you. You're always sweet to me, 'specially today."
"Yeah?" she smiled, the word barely a breath between them, "I did good today? Taking care of you?"
"So good," he affirmed, nudging his nose against hers, "Always take care of me, you know that. That's why you're gonna get one kiss, then we're going to bed."
(Y/N) didn't need to be told twice, surging upwards to press her lips to his. Harry took on the brunt of the control, ensuring she didn't try to deepen anything further than she needed to tonight. Only a soft kiss was shared between them, sweet and loving before Harry helped relax her back into the mattress.
Instead of letting him draw away, she kept him close with her hands on his jaw, pressing soft kisses to both of his cheeks, the tip of his nose, his forehead, and down to his lips once more. He released him then, warmth bubbling under her skin, Harry surely matching that warmth with his own manifesting in a soft flush touching his cheeks.
"Love you," she told him, letting him burrow against the crook of his neck. He could be the one to hear her heartbeat tonight.
"I love you, too, baby. So much." he murmured into her throat, "Thank you."
With her fingers combing through his hair, Harry didn't think he minded getting sick anymore. Not when he had her.
—————
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