One Direction Preferences

He's sick...

Harry: You can hear him coughing from where you’re standing over the pot of chicken noodle soup in the kitchen. “Hang on, babe,” you call. You hear a hoarse voice say something but you can’t quite understand so you walk over to the couch and bend over where he’s laying down. You hold his face in your hands gingerly and kiss his forehead. “What was that?” you ask. He smiles and closes his eyes. “I love you,” he whispers and then the timer for the soup goes off.

Liam: “Li, you’ve got to stay here. They’ll be all right, okay, babe?” you try to convince him as he starts to sit up in the chair that’s occupying your living room. “But, baby, I’ve…” he trails off before he starts coughing. “Liam James Payne, your turtles are going to be fine.” He draws his lips in between his teeth and makes a frustrated face. “Who is taking care of them, then?” You roll your eyes and kiss his nose. When you pull away you say, “I’ve been staying at your house since you were admitted, Li.” He offers up a weak smile and he whispers, “I can always count on you.”

Louis: “Babe,” he calls from the bathroom. You roll your eyes and heave a sigh of frustration. You stand in the doorway and ask, “Yeah, Lou?” You can tell he’s tired from the purple bags under his now dull eyes. “Can you get me a glass of water?” he asks. You kiss the back of his neck and rub his back briefly before replying, “Sure.” While you’re running the water from the filter, you can hear Lou retching in the bathroom. On your way back, you grab a rag, toothbrush and toothpaste as well. He smiles and gladly takes the water from you. “Thank you,” he whispers, already starting to succumb to the lack of sleep.

Niall: He nods his head and pokes out his lower lip. “I’ll be right back,” you whisper, giving him a soft kiss before you leave his hospital room. You come back in a few minutes later with a milkshake in your hand. He makes the hand signal for ‘I love you’ and you put the straw up to his tonsil-free mouth. He takes short sips and motions for you to take it away. He picks up his writing pad and pencil and writes out, ‘Thank you so much.’ You smile and say, “I’m here all night.”

Zayn: “Can you turn on the fan, babe?” he asks from where he’s cocooned in blankets. You kiss his warm forehead and place a cold rag on his head, trying to keep his fever down. You walk over and flip on the fan and you see him poke his leg out from under his pile of blankets. You kneel beside the couch and he grasps your hand. His palms are clammy from him trying to break his fever, but he rubs your hand with his thumb soothingly. “Thank you,” he whispers. You smile and reply, “Anything for you, babe.”