Downpour

by LethalWallflower

Summary:

Harvey and Harper get caught out in the rain. Thankfully, there's a place for them to go.

Part of the Lightbound series.

Daddecember 2025. Prompt: Thunderstorm

Notes:

In light of me scrambling to finish Whumptober on time, I've elected to pick 10 prompts for this event and post them as one and two shots so I can make them a bit longer. Enjoy!

Chapter 1: Downpour

"Go, go, go! I'm right behind you!"

Harvey jerked his jacket from his shoulders and tossed it over Harper's head as the rain increased its tempo on the pavement. The garment was already soaked, and was doing a poor job of shielding the girl beneath it. Still, she reached up and tucked it over her head.

The bell over the cafe door rang as he ushered her inside, feet pounding on the faux wooden floor and shallow puddles forming where the water streamed from them. The first crack of thunder split the air outside when the door shut behind them. He slid the fabric covering her head to reveal her, red curls laying dark and flattened against her face, lips trembling in the fading chill of the winter fading with early March.

His clothing clung to him like a second skin, thick, sticky. He wished he had something to change into so he could shed it and feel warmer and freer. She wasn't much better. The sweater she wore dripped on the floor, heavy with water.

"Arms up," he said, taking the hem in his hands as she followed his word and tugging it over her head. "You're going to catch your death in this."

The shirt beneath wasn't much better, but at least she wasn't swimming in the aftermath of the sudden downpour anymore.

He took her hand in his, guiding her over to a booth in the corner and situating her on the far side, back to the wall. She crossed her arms over herself, teeth still chattering. He'd have liked nothing more than to have taken her home, but the car was two blocks away, and it was raining like Armageddon was coming. Looking out the window, he could barely see across the street for the sheets of water pounding over the streets. Streetlights had flickered on. Headlights were stagnant, illuminating the cars in front of them like the eyes of stalking creatures.

Looking over at Harper, she had sunk down until she was laying on the booth seat, knees tucked to her chest and arms wrapped around them.

I need to start bringing a towel with me. Just in case.

"I'll be right back," he told her.

The look on her face when she glanced up at him said that she wasn't thrilled with the idea of him walking away, but she didn't protest it. He stepped to the counter. The bistro lights above the surface and the fake greenery scattered about would have made the place warm and homey if he wasn't soaked to the bone with a shivering child tucked into a booth.

The barista looked up at him, his shirt plastered against his body and his dark hair hanging in strings and sticking to his face as the water still dripped from it.

She took a moment to observe him before speaking. He was used to it by now. Someone who didn't need a second to take him in was a rarity, though the time spent staring had grown less and less within the first year of him healing from his injuries.

"You got right in it," she said.

He offered her a shaky smile, quite literally as he could feel his own teeth chattering behind his lips. "No kidding," he said. "Suppose it's a long shot to ask if you have any towels."

"Only dish rags," she said. "Sorry."

"No, I figured," he said. He leaned his good arm on the polished wooden counter and took a look over the menu. "Just two hot chocolates."

The woman turned away from him and immediately set to work pouring milk and scooping powders. "You got it," she said.

Harper was still as he left her when he returned with the drinks. She raised her head when the cups were set side by side on the table. The charm and selling point of the place was obviously how cozy it was. The hot chocolate was served in thick, ceramic mugs rather than disposable cups. He made a note to bring her back under more favorable conditions now that the weather was getting cold.

"Alright, sit up," he said, reaching down and brushing his hand over her hair. "I'm gonna sit down with you."

Harper shuffled herself into a sitting position, arms still crossed over herself and shoes resting on the seat of the booth. She settled herself into the corner between the back of the booth and the wall. Unfurling one arm from the ball she'd tucked herself into, she reached for one of the mugs.

Harvey slid in beside her, positioning himself on the outside of the booth and boxing her comfortably into the little nook she'd slotted herself into. His hand settled over hers, gently curling around her fingers to halt the motion.

"Give it a minute to cool," he said. "You're going to burn your tongue."

He curled an arm around her and pulled her close to him. She settled against him sliding until if she'd been any closer, she'd have been sitting in his lap. He could feel her shaking still. Lowering his head until his chin rested on her soaked, matted hair, he exhaled deeply, feeling the breath shudder as it passed through his own trembling body.

"You're alright," he said. "I'm so sorry, lass. I wish I had a towel for you. God, you're freezing."

The chill ebbed from her skin where his hand rested against her arm. She was warm, and he felt the cold slowly draining from his own bones between the pleasant warmth of the thermostat and Harper nestled against him. Her own shaking dissipated the longer she rested there.

"There we go," he said, his breath brushing over the top of her head. "You warmer now?"

He felt the motion as she nodded her head. Good. That's what he was supposed to be here for. He'd dragged her out to get caught in the pouring rain, and he was going to make sure she didn't have to suffer for it.

When she shifted against him and looked up at him, eyes half-lidded and distant in that way they often were when she was most relaxed, before she fell asleep, he shifted his hand from her arm and combed his fingers through her hair, feeling the snags and tangles and gently working them out. If he'd had a blanket to wrap her in, everything would have been just perfect.

He took her mug from the table and held it to her, coaxing her to wrap her hands around it and drink, which she did.

"There you are," he said. "Stay right there and drink up. We'll go to the car as soon as it slacks off a little."

Outside the rain pounded against the street and windows with a relentless fury, but inside, she was warm and safe, and that was all he could ask for.

Chapter 2: Aftermath

Summary:

These two prompts went together too well.

Daddecember 2025: "I don't feel good."

Harvey supposed that he should have expected waking up feeling like hell after being caught in the downpour yesterday. Around two in the morning, he woke up soaking wet and barely able to breathe through his nose. A coughing fit shuddered him as he sat up and swung his feet over the edge of the bed. His feet hit the bedroom carpet, and he sat there a moment, swallowing against the uncomfortable ache in his throat. 

The sense that he'd like nothing more than to lay in bed and decompose was overwhelming, but that wasn't an option. He'd known what he was signing up for when he'd taken Harper in. As sporadically as he'd seen his son over the past decade, this was still familiar territory. You didn't get sick days when there was a sniffly child in the other room. 

He passed through the living room and cracked her door open as quietly as he could. The persistent tickle in his throat nagged him to give in to another coughing fit. He swallowed, trying to force it back. 

Pointlessly, because when he opened the door, Harper stirred and greeted him with a coughing fit of her own. 

"Ugh, you too?" he asked, voice hoarse. 

He approached her and sat on the edge of the bed. Palm on her forehead, he could feel the heat radiating from her. How high was the fever? He really should take her temperature to see if he should take her to the doctor. 

"You're burning up."

The back of her hand rested against his face. 

"Hot?" he asked. 

She nodded, face flushed with her own fever. Red curls clung to her forehead like they had the day before when they'd both been caught out in the rain. Despite the heat on her face, a faint tremor wracked her as the chills gripped her. 

"Sit tight," Harvey said, standing up. "I'm gonna get the thermometer."

He was already walking through the familiar steps in his head. It had been a while, sure, but it was one of those things that was so deeply ingrained into him that he couldn't forget it if he tried. He always was the fussy one to Eun-Mi's more calculating practicality. His own fever was like an old friend calling him after years. When Toby was young, Harvey almost always got himself sick while fussing over him. 

First he should check them both and make sure it wasn't running too high for either of them. Then soup, maybe. Tea with lemon. He didn't see himself getting back to sleep after this. Not with Harper sick too. He could settle in the living room and find something to watch. 

Returning to her with the thermometer in hand, she opened her mouth as soon as he sat down. 

"Good girl," he said, slipping it under her tongue. "Close."

He turned his head away from her and raised his hand to cough. The digital clock on her bedside table read 2:16 a.m. He could only hope that even if he didn't go back to sleep, she would. It was a tall order for a kid who couldn't breathe out of her nose, but a man could hope. 

The thermometer beeped and he took it from her. 101.3, the display read. He breathed a sigh of relief, which collapsed into more coughing. It wasn't good, but the fact that he wasn't going to have to drive her to the hospital was a weight off his shoulders. 

He wiped it down with a disinfectant wipe and put it in his own mouth. Similar temperature. Alright, it was miserable but not not life-threatening. Good to know. 

Harper sat beside him, sniffling through shrunken sinuses and coughing. She held a blanket around her shoulders, still shaking slightly. He put his hand on her head. 

"Lay back down," he said. "I'll make you some tea. You want tea?"

She slipped out of bed, carrying the blanket with her and stood in front of him. Alright. Message received. 

"Alright, alright," he said, rising to join her. "We'll go make some tea."

Notes:

Mmmm sick fic.