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They were driving back to London from Nick’s parents’ when Nick realised the dull ache he’d felt in his throat when he woke up that morning hadn’t gone away. He tried clearing his throat a few times, and reached for the water bottle he knew was in the cupholder without taking his eyes off the road.
“You sure that’s the right drink?” An amused sounding Harry asked from the passenger seat.
Nick was sure, so he took a sip before glancing over and taking in Harry’s smirk and bright eyes.
“Never gonna live that one down, am I?” he asked.
“What’s the fun in that?” Harry stole the bottle out of Nick’s hand and took his own sip before Nick could stop him.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Nick said, once Harry had already put the bottle back in the cupholder. “I feel like I’m coming down with something.”
Nick could see Harry shrug out of the corner of his eye. “It’s not like I haven’t already kissed you today. I’m always ill anyway,” he said.
That’s true enough. Nick cleared his throat again, while Harry twisted around to lean between the seats and coo at Pig in the backseat. “You’ll take care of us if your daddies are ill, won’t you, Piggy?”
Nick felt the familiar swooping go from his belly and up into his chest like it did whenever Harry said something like that. ‘Your daddies’ or ‘our flat’ or ‘our car’. It was still new enough that it was scary and thrilling at the same time, but it also made him feel warm, and ridiculously fond. Harry, like he could sense Nick having an emotion, turned back around to settle in his seat, kissing Nick on the cheek on the way. Nick cleared his throat again.
“Do you think Liv got you ill?” Harry asked. Nick glanced over and saw that little dip between his eyebrows he got when he was concentrating too hard, or sad, or confused.
“Probably,” Nick sighed. Liv had spent most of the time they were at Pete and Eileen’s for Christmas bundled up in her old room with a fever and a terrible cough. Nick will kill her if she gave him the flu anyway. Tomorrow was New Year’s and he and Harry had plans. Plans that didn’t involve Nick being too poorly to go out.
“Well, let’s hope not,” Harry said reasonably, taking Nick’s hand in his and resting them on his thigh. He kept them there the rest of the way down the M6.
**
They didn’t get back to London all that late, but after hauling in all of their luggage and Christmas presents, then taking Pig for a long walk in the park to make up for the long day in the car, Nick was exhausted. The ache in his throat had turned into a tickle, but he wasn’t coughing yet and was determined not to give into it. Harry was fussing already, making Nick his own special tea for when he had to sing and his throat was giving him trouble, and piling him up with extra blankets in their bed.
Nick appreciated it; he always loved it when Harry showered extra attention on him. But he wasn’t getting ill. It was just the dry air from the car, and too much country air, he was sure of it. He submitted to Harry’s hovering anyway, as it was generally futile not to. In the end, he fell asleep at about his usual time when he had to get up at half-five in the morning, even though they didn’t have plans tomorrow until late evening.
**
He woke up himself, Pig, and eventually, Harry, coughing at four a.m.
“I’ll go and sleep in the spare room,” he croaked, between coughing fits.
“You will not,” Harry said. He was rubbing Nick’s back, which felt very nice, but wasn’t doing much to stop the coughing.
When the worst of the fit was over and Nick could catch his breath again, he said, “Well then you should. I’ll get you ill or keep you up all night if you stay in here.”
Harry didn’t answer, just gave him that look he gets when he’s being stubborn and going to get his way no matter any reasonable objections, and went into the en suite to get Nick a glass of water and some cough syrup from the medicine cabinet. Nick choked both down, and let Harry tuck him back in, with an extra pillow behind his head to keep him elevated.
Nick coughed only a bit more, and when he finally drifted off again, Harry’s fingers were still combing gently through his hair.
**
When Nick woke up again, sunlight was streaming through the gaps in the curtains, and he was alone in the bed. As if his lungs had been just lying in wait for him to stir, he began coughing violently only seconds after becoming fully conscious. His throat felt shredded, his back ached from the coughing he must’ve been doing in his sleep, and he was already getting a chill from where the blankets had slipped off his shoulder.
Harry, who must’ve heard him from elsewhere in the flat, came bustling through the door and over to the bed. He rubbed Nick’s back again until the fit finally passed, then wrapped his arms around Nick for a cuddle.
“So, I think I might be unwell,” Nick croaked. He barely had a voice.
“I know, darling,” Harry replied, the back of his hand against Nick’s forehead like he was feeling for a fever.
“I’m never ill. You’re the one who’s always ill,” Nick pouted.
“I know that, too,” Harry said. He removed his hand from Nick’s forehead, apparently satisfied with the findings from his hand-thermometer. “Let’s get some medicine in you, and maybe some breakfast.”
Nick was rarely hungry when he was poorly, but he hadn’t eaten much dinner last night, tired as he was, and he can feel his stomach growl at the mere thought of some food.
Harry must’ve heard it, because he got off the bed and helped Nick to his feet.
“C’mon,” he said, “I’ll make you some scrambled eggs, and I think I’ve still got some clementines in the fridge.”
Nick could probably handle both of those, and some more of Harry’s horrible tea, probably. Maybe he’ll take a nap after breakfast and be fine later so he can still go out. He would say all of this out loud, but he’s conserving what little voice he has left, following Harry into the kitchen in silent acquiescence.
**
Nick did take a nap after breakfast, and even another one after a very light lunch, and woke up on the sofa in the darkening late afternoon feeling, if possible, even worse than he had when he first woke up that morning. His nasty coughing fits seemed to have subsided a bit, but his throat still felt raw and his whole body was achy and weak. He groaned weakly, and reached down to scratch at Pig’s ears, her warm little body curled up behind his knees.
He wondered where Harry was and figured he was probably getting ready for tonight. Nick should probably do that too, but in a minute, when his limbs didn’t feel so heavy. He must have dozed off again, because the next thing he knew Harry was right in front of him, still in the loose jeans and old t-shirt he’d been wearing earlier, brushing the hair off of Nick’s forehead with one hand, the other holding a steaming mug that Nick guessed was probably tea again, and not the coffee he’d need if he was getting up.
“Hi, love. How are we feeling?” Harry asked, his wide, green eyes filled with concern.
“Time issit?” Nick asked instead of answering Harry’s question. “Why aren’t you dressed?”
Harry pursed his lips like he does when he’s annoyed but trying not to show it. “It’s nearly half-five, and I’m not dressed because we’re staying in.”
“No we’re not,” Nick protested, while trying to sit up. It didn’t work very well, and he ended up on his side, coughing up a lung again, upsetting Pig enough in the process that she jumped down off the couch. When he could breathe again, Harry handed him the mug of tea, and watched while Nick took a few sips. It tasted awful. Nick drank it anyway because it did a good job of soothing his throat.
“Okay,” Nick started again. “I’m staying in. You’re going out.”
“What? Absolutely not, Nicholas. I’m not leaving you alone and ill on New Year’s Eve,” Harry said, looking properly annoyed now.
“Because I’m ill is exactly why you should still go, Harold. All I’m going to do is sleep and cough up my lungs and get you ill as well if you stay here. Go, everyone’ll be happy to see you. You’re supposed to go out and have fun on New Year’s,” Nick said.
“I’m not going to have much fun without you, knowing you’re ill at home,” Harry replied.
“Well, I’ll be mad if you stay and make me ruin your night as well as my own, so please, go. Give everyone my love,” he said as forcefully as he could manage in his croaky voice.
“But-” Harry started to protest, but Nick cut him off.
“No buts, Harold. Go. Have fun for me.” Nick put on his best stubborn face, and Harry stared him down for a few minutes, before sighing.
“Fine. I’ll go. But I don’t know how much fun I’m going to have without you there,” he said.
“Nonsense, all our friends will be there, you’ll have a great time. Now go get dressed in one of your ridiculous print shirts, and leave me in my illness in peace.” Nick punctuated his statement with a well-timed cough. Harry frowned at him again, but he also got up from where he’d been sitting on the coffee table, and walked down the hall, presumably to go get dressed.
Harry wasn’t gone for very long, and when he came back he was dressed in a pair of fitted black trousers with his favorite camel boots, and yes, one of his ridiculous print shirts, half-unbuttoned so Nick could see his necklaces hanging against his skin and his sparse chest hair. He looked really hot, and Nick was pissed off all over again that he couldn’t go out with him, and kiss him at midnight. But he still wasn’t going to let that get in the way of Harry having a great night out.
Harry looked down at him sadly, and kissed the top of his head. “Do you have everything you need close by?” he asked.
“Yes, darling, I do. And I’ll be fine if I need anything else, I promise. I’ll get Pig to fetch for me. Now stop worrying and go have fun,” Nick replied.
Harry frowned again, but nodded, then kissed Nick’s head one more time before putting his coat on.
“Love you, see you later,” he called from the entry hall.
Nick’s voice was too croaky to call back, so he lifted his arm to wave, which he knew Harry could see from where he was standing. He heard the front door open then close, and let his arm flop back down.
**
Being alone and poorly on New Year’s Eve was crap, Nick decided after about twenty minutes of it.
“Why did I make Harry go out, Pig?” he asked her. She did not answer him, of course, didn’t even wake up from where she was curled up on her doggy bed, tired of Nick’s flopping around on the couch to get comfortable. He tried to watch telly, but there was nothing good on. He rarely felt like watching a film on a good day, and he definitely wasn’t in the mood now. He thought about reading, but couldn’t focus on his latest Nat Geo, and the only other thing nearby was a book of guitar techniques that Harry was working through.
He stared at the wall opposite the sofa for a while, and thought about ways to re-arrange the photos that were hung there to accommodate the new painting Harry had bought him for Christmas. Or maybe that should go in the bedroom? He couldn’t decide, so gave up on that too.
“This sucks,” he said, to Pig ostensibly, but mostly just to himself.
He really hadn’t wanted to spoil Harry’s night by keeping him cooped up in the house with his ill boyfriend. They’d had amazing plans, going over to Daisy’s first to meet up with everyone, then going to Shoreditch where Florence was singing and Annie was DJing later in the night. It was supposed to be their first time ringing in the New Year together, properly together, and Nick’s stupid immune system had to go and ruin it.
Well. Maybe Nick himself had played a small part in that. He tended to get even more stubborn when he was ill, and Harry was probably wise to have let him win so easily earlier, because Nick isn’t at all sure he wouldn’t have just been an annoying bastard about keeping him in all night. He’s kind of over it now, though. Having Harry mostly around all the time was the best thing about living together the past six months.
When he stops to think about it, Nick’s still a bit surprised by his own nerve in officially asking, instead of just letting it happen and never talking about it. One Direction had taken a bit of a break, and instead of decamping to LA, Harry had stayed in London and pretty much moved into Nick’s old flat like it was 2012 again, even though he still had his big house on the Heath. Nick hadn’t minded. But he had also been planning on moving, and when he started shopping for flats again, he’d taken Harry along, and then asked him to move in with him, properly. If Nick thought about it long enough, his body tended to re-create the cold sweat he’d found himself in that afternoon.
Harry had smiled at him, that huge, toothy grin where his eyes go all squinty, but then he’d asked, “Shouldn’t we, like, talk about things first?”
Nick had shrugged and asked, “Do we really need to?” He had felt like he was going to vom a bit, even though he was pretty sure what Harry’s answer was going to be. But Harry was still looking at him expectantly, so Nick took a deep breath and laid it all out for him. “I want to keep doing what we’re doing. I want to keep living with you. I want to keep sleeping with you,” he said. He paused for another deep breath before adding, “And I want to keep loving you. If you want to keep doing the same with me, then say yes.”
So Harry had said yes, and here they were - him and Harry, together. And Pig. And everyone knew, which hadn’t been as dramatic in actual life as it had been on the internet. Well, from what Nick can gather, anyway. He hasn’t read the comments on his Instagram in nearly a year. But he and Harry lived together, and went out together, and were photographed together, and had gone to each others’ families at Christmas together, which wasn’t new in and of itself, but it was different this time. Better. And tonight they were supposed to party with their friends and kiss at midnight and ring in the New Year together, and they weren’t, and well. Nick was sad about it, is all. Maybe he should just go to bed.
He’d been motivating himself to do just that when he heard the front door go. At first he was terrified it was a burglar, or maybe even a stalker, as Harry still had a few of those. But wouldn’t they have seen him leave? He therefore reasoned it was one of his many friends with a key, probably coming to check that he hadn’t died since he wasn’t out. But of all the scenarios that had quickly run through his head, the last one he was expecting to materialize in front of him was to see Harry coming in from the hall.
“Hiya, love,” Harry said, smiling beatifically at him. He’d only been gone an hour at the most.
“What are you doing back here already?” Nick asked, still reeling from Harry being in front of him again, but happy as well.
“Since you can’t be at the party, I thought I’d just bring the party to you,” he said, holding up his arms which Nick now saw were laden with bags. Harry came into the living room proper and began setting things out on the coffee table.
“I had a hell of a time finding any shops still open, it’s why it took me so long to get back,” he said, opening one bag that had party hats and blowers and 2017 glasses. He also had some champagne and a bag that smelled deliciously of curry. Nick hadn’t realized how hungry he was from barely eating all day until just now.
“You came back, and you brought me a party.” He didn’t mean to sound so awed as he said it, but he couldn’t help it. This was one of the nicest things anyone had ever done for him.
“Of course I came back,” Harry said, leaving everything on the table for a moment. He put his arms around Nick and pulled him in gently, kissing his temple and rubbing his back. “I wasn’t going to be anywhere else tonight except with you.”
Nick sort of felt like he was going to cry. Must be the cold meds. “But you got all dressed up to go out,” Nick pointed out.
“Well, I had to do something to get you to stop arguing with me, didn’t I?” Harry said wryly. “Now, come on. Let’s get you in the shower, you’ll feel better after I wash your hair, and then we’ll eat and watch something stupid on telly, and put on our stupid hats, and kiss each other at midnight. If you’re still awake.”
“I’ll be awake,” Nick insisted.
“Okay, you’ll be awake,” Harry agreed easily, helping Nick stand up.
“Thank you,” Nick said, stopping Harry before he could lead him out of the room.
“You’re welcome,” Harry replied.
**
Harry was right, taking a shower felt amazing, and even better for having Harry’s long fingers in his hair. The steamy air was loosening up all the crap in his chest, which was kind of disgusting, but it made him feel a lot better. It was just a shame that he had Harry all naked and wet in the shower with him, and he didn’t have any energy whatsoever to do anything about it.
“I want you to know that if I wasn’t all gross and full of snot, I would definitely be sucking your dick right now,” Nick said.
Harry laughed his big, barking startled laugh. It always made Nick smile when he got him to do that.
“I would though. You looked really hot earlier, and you look even better now,” Nick said, trying for a lascivious smirk. This time Harry snorted at him.
“I believe you,” he said. “I’d probably be sucking yours too, if I wasn’t afraid you’d pass out and smash something delicate.”
Nick would’ve protested but Harry’s probably right so he let it go.
After the shower, Harry wrapped him up in fluffy towels and got him into his coziest pajamas, and even blow dried his hair for him so he wouldn’t be cold.
“I knew asking you to move in with me was the best idea,” Nick said, sighing happily as Harry finished brushing his hair.
“It’s been pretty good for me, too,” Harry said, his voice soft.
“Even when you get stuck taking care of a grumpy ill person on New Year’s Eve?” Nick asked, sort of joking, but still sort of worried Harry’s upset that they’re not doing anything special.
“Of course even then,” Harry said. “I love taking care of you. I mean, I’d rather you weren’t ill, but that’s only because I hate it when you don’t feel well, not because it might be inconvenient for me.”
Nick swallowed around a lump in his throat. He didn’t really know what to say. He’d never had anyone care for him this much. Sure, his parents took care of him when he was poorly as a child, but they never fussed like this. Nick thought it might be annoying, to be fussed over, but with Harry it just made him feel warm and content.
“You’re really good at taking care of me. Thank you,” he finally said, hoping he sounded as fond as he really was.
He must have hit the mark because Harry beamed at him. “You’re most welcome,” he replied, smugly. “Now let’s heat up the curry I got and watch the Hootenanny.”
**
Nick woke up to a gentle shaking and Harry saying his name softly.
“Hmm? Wassit?” he mumbled, trying to open his eyes.
“It’s nearly midnight, babe. I know you didn’t want to miss it, and then we can go to bed, okay?” Harry said gently.
“Oh, yeah. Okay, I’m up,” Nick said, blinking in the soft glow of the lamplight, and taking in Harry’s face, so close to his. He always looked so pretty up close. He had his hair pulled up in a loose bun, and he smelled like their shampoo, and chocolate, and home. Nick could see a countdown beginning on the telly over Harry’s shoulder.
Nick traced the line of Harry’s brow with his finger, then down the side of his face and along his jaw. Harry blinked slowly, and leaned in to kiss Nick, his lips warm and soft. They were already kissing when Nick heard the people on telly get to ‘one’, and then in the distance he heard the booms from the fireworks starting. In his half-awake brain, the booming and clapping were for him and Harry.
Harry deepened the kiss, licking into Nick’s mouth proper, and Nick would’ve protested, but they’ve shared enough germs the past two days that Harry’s already exposed. Plus, he was enjoying it too much to really want to stop. Harry’s mouth was the best thing he’d tasted in days, and his hands were gentle on Nick’s face and in his hair. Nick felt warm and fuzzy, and he kissed Harry back until he had to break away to breathe.
He opened his eyes slowly, and saw Harry blinking owlishly at him and licking his lips. He smiled when he saw Nick looking at him.
“Happy New Year, baby,” Harry said, nuzzling against Nick’s cheek. “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” Nick said. “Happy New Year.”
There was a particularly loud boom outside, and it woke Pig up, making her bark. They got up to get her calmed back down, and got themselves to bed while they were up.
Nick checked his phone when he plugged it in on his nightstand, and saw that he had a bunch of notifications. Several ‘Happy New Years’ from his friends, but a lot of crying with laughter emojis. He scrolled down to see that Harry had tagged him on his Instagram. Nick thumbed the app open and saw that Harry had posted a picture of him asleep on the couch, before he must’ve taken off Nick’s 2017 glasses and hat for him, because he didn’t remember waking back up with them on. He had them on in the picture, where he was slumped in the corner of the couch, definitely passed out well before midnight. The caption read Happy 2017, @nicholasgrimshaw.
Harry walked back in from cleaning his teeth in the en suite. Nick held up his phone to show him what he was looking at, and Harry just laughed as he got into bed.
“I hate you,” Nick said with absolutely no heat behind it.
“You love me,” Harry replied, which, obviously, but that was beside the point. Nick was too tired to keep up the witty banter though. “Get in bed and let’s sleep,” Harry said, clearly able to read Nick like an open book.
Nick did as he was told.
**
In the morning, Nick was woken up by coughing again. Except this time, it was from Harry’s side of the bed. When Nick got up to get him a glass of water, he felt slightly better than he had the day before, his throat not as sore, and his body not as achey. Harry, when Nick walked back into the bedroom and really got a look at him, looked truly terrible. He drank the water Nick handed him, then made the face that Nick thought made him look like an angry kitten.
“I’m ill,” Harry pouted.
“I know, babe. I’m sorry,” Nick said. And he was sorry. “I’m feeling a bit better though, so now I can take care of you.”
“Good,” Harry said, flopping back down on his pillow. “I think we should just spend the rest of the day in bed.”
Nick got back in bed and arranged them so he was spooning Harry, which he knew was Harry’s favorite. “Start as we mean to go, right?” he said.
“Definitely,” Harry replied. “Except let’s not be poorly all year, okay?”
“Deal,” Nick agreed, and sealed the deal with a kiss to the back of Harry’s neck.