Ficlet: Nick/Harry take care of hurt!Louis
Dec. 9th, 2018 07:31 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
magicalrocketshipsOriginally posted here.
GREEDYDANCER ASKED Nick/Harry take care of hurt!Louis >.>
The phone call comes at four in the morning, when Nick’s asleep with Harry sprawled out on top of him like he’s got a little bit mixed up about whether he’s man or blanket. Nick is used to waking up early, but four is early even for him, and anyway, it’s the weekend.
“Nrgh,” he manages, trying to shrug Harry away so he can reach for whichever one of their mobiles is vibrating off the bedside table. “Hello?”
“Haz,” Louis’ voice says, and he sounds slurred and fucked up. “Haz, I fell over.”
“It’s for you,” Nick says, poking Harry in the shoulder. Their phones both sound the same when they’re on vibrate. “Louis. He’s drunk.”
“‘m not drunk,” Louis says, and Nick can still hear him even as he’s handing the phone over. “Haz, I broke my phone.”
“Hi, Lou,” Harry says, sleepily taking the phone, and bunging it on speakerphone. “What’s up.”
“I fell over,” Louis says. “Hit my head. Wait. Didn’t fall over. Tripped.”
“Louis,” Harry says, carefully. He spreads his fingers across Nick’s bare stomach, sitting up. “What happened? Where are you?”
“Hospital,” Louis says. “Need picking up. Discharged myself. Feel sick. Haz, my screen’s broken.”
Nick’s already climbing out of bed and pulling on a pair of pants, even as Harry’s trying to get out of Louis where they need to be.
~*~
The thing is, Louis is a terrible patient. He’s whiny and grumpy and all of his dickhead tendencies are exaggerated beyond the normal level of Louis Tomlinson frustration, and so far the only time Nick’s had to deal with Louis being sick is the giant fucking cold and subsequent chest infection last winter, when Louis had taken up residence in Harry’s spare bedroom and spent six days telling Harry his squash was the wrong sort. Nick had put up with it only because he’d been officially going out with Harry for about six seconds then, and because Louis was Harry’s best friend.
This time, well. He’s not going to put up with it.
Except this time, Louis is quiet. He’s quiet and sleepy and curls up on Nick’s sofa with blankets and the pillows from Nick’s bed, and he spends the first day drifting in and out of sleep and hugging Nick’s dog.
It’s weird, is the thing.
“Did he tell you what happened?” Nick asks in an undertone, once Harry has deposited two slices of hot, buttered toast next to Louis’ sick bed, alongside an almost-cold cup of tea that Louis had barely touched.
“Only what the doctor told us.” The doctor had said that Louis had been knocked out when he hit the pavement, but quite how he got there, Nick isn’t entirely sure.
“How’d he get knocked out?”
“I am here, you know,” Louis says, but he doesn’t open his eyes. “I’m not actually dead.”
“You’re doing a fairly good impression of someone who is,” Nick says. “What happened?”
“Got drunk, someone started sounding off, I fell over my feet and ended up knocking myself out,” Louis says. He still doesn’t open his eyes. “Embarrassing but not life threatening. Remind me to be humiliated later, when my head stops hurting.”
“What were they sounding off about?” Nick asks, since he’s attuned to that kind of thing.
“You know,” Louis says. “The usual. How I like cock, that kind of thing.”
Louis’ coming out story had held the news cycle for a full seven days last month. Nick and Harry’s had held it for two days, six months ago. Sometimes Nick felt bad about that. “All the best people like cock,” Nick says, which is as helpful as he can manage.
“Yeah,” Louis says shortly, and he doesn’t eat the toast.
~*~
By day two, Louis is back to being a dickhead, and Nick is back to considering the best ways to hide the body.
“Your toothpaste is weird,” Louis declares, padding into the kitchen in a pair of Nick’s pyjama bottoms with the bottoms rolled up. “I threw it in the bin because it tastes revolting.”
“Thanks,” Nick says, after Harry kicks him in the ankle. “Do you want tea?”
“You don’t make it right,” Louis says, and he elbows Nick out of the way. “I’ll show you how to do it right.”
“There’s toast,” Nick says, as mildly as he can.
“Thanks,” Louis says, and Nick waits for the punchline, but there isn’t one. Harry smiles at Nick over the top of Louis making tea, but Nick isn’t entirely sure he understands any of this.
“It’s just because he wants to be your friend,” Harry tells him later, when Louis has taken up the whole of the sofa again, and Nick and Harry are relegated to sharing the armchair in the corner if they want to see the TV.
“I heard that,” Louis says, without looking up from his tube of yogurt. Nick had had to go on a special trip to the supermarket when Louis had demanded kids’ yogurt. “And I don’t want to be his friend, that’s stupid. My head hurts, someone make me tea. I’ve been through a very trying ordeal.”
“You fell over your feet,” Nick points out, since the rest of it feels a little confusing to him.
“Whilst defending your honour,” Louis says. “Someone get me a biscuit.”
Which, what.
“What?” Harry asks, carefully.
Louis concentrates on his tube of yogurt. “Oh,” he says, “didn’t I mention that? It wasn’t just me liking cock that they were bothered about. It was sort of, you know, us.”
“Oh,” Nick says. “The three of us.”
“Yes,” Louis says. “And then I fell over my feet.”
“Right,” Nick says.
“Right,” Louis says. “Do you want to get me another blanket? This one’s itchy.”
“Are you sure this is him wanting to be my friend?” Nick asks Harry, as Harry makes a big deal of licking Nick’s neck, probably just because he can.
“This is him going all out,” Harry says, kissing the corner of Nick’s mouth. “He’s pulling out all of the stops.”
“Right,” Nick says again, and stands up to get Louis a blanket.
GREEDYDANCER ASKED Nick/Harry take care of hurt!Louis >.>
The phone call comes at four in the morning, when Nick’s asleep with Harry sprawled out on top of him like he’s got a little bit mixed up about whether he’s man or blanket. Nick is used to waking up early, but four is early even for him, and anyway, it’s the weekend.
“Nrgh,” he manages, trying to shrug Harry away so he can reach for whichever one of their mobiles is vibrating off the bedside table. “Hello?”
“Haz,” Louis’ voice says, and he sounds slurred and fucked up. “Haz, I fell over.”
“It’s for you,” Nick says, poking Harry in the shoulder. Their phones both sound the same when they’re on vibrate. “Louis. He’s drunk.”
“‘m not drunk,” Louis says, and Nick can still hear him even as he’s handing the phone over. “Haz, I broke my phone.”
“Hi, Lou,” Harry says, sleepily taking the phone, and bunging it on speakerphone. “What’s up.”
“I fell over,” Louis says. “Hit my head. Wait. Didn’t fall over. Tripped.”
“Louis,” Harry says, carefully. He spreads his fingers across Nick’s bare stomach, sitting up. “What happened? Where are you?”
“Hospital,” Louis says. “Need picking up. Discharged myself. Feel sick. Haz, my screen’s broken.”
Nick’s already climbing out of bed and pulling on a pair of pants, even as Harry’s trying to get out of Louis where they need to be.
~*~
The thing is, Louis is a terrible patient. He’s whiny and grumpy and all of his dickhead tendencies are exaggerated beyond the normal level of Louis Tomlinson frustration, and so far the only time Nick’s had to deal with Louis being sick is the giant fucking cold and subsequent chest infection last winter, when Louis had taken up residence in Harry’s spare bedroom and spent six days telling Harry his squash was the wrong sort. Nick had put up with it only because he’d been officially going out with Harry for about six seconds then, and because Louis was Harry’s best friend.
This time, well. He’s not going to put up with it.
Except this time, Louis is quiet. He’s quiet and sleepy and curls up on Nick’s sofa with blankets and the pillows from Nick’s bed, and he spends the first day drifting in and out of sleep and hugging Nick’s dog.
It’s weird, is the thing.
“Did he tell you what happened?” Nick asks in an undertone, once Harry has deposited two slices of hot, buttered toast next to Louis’ sick bed, alongside an almost-cold cup of tea that Louis had barely touched.
“Only what the doctor told us.” The doctor had said that Louis had been knocked out when he hit the pavement, but quite how he got there, Nick isn’t entirely sure.
“How’d he get knocked out?”
“I am here, you know,” Louis says, but he doesn’t open his eyes. “I’m not actually dead.”
“You’re doing a fairly good impression of someone who is,” Nick says. “What happened?”
“Got drunk, someone started sounding off, I fell over my feet and ended up knocking myself out,” Louis says. He still doesn’t open his eyes. “Embarrassing but not life threatening. Remind me to be humiliated later, when my head stops hurting.”
“What were they sounding off about?” Nick asks, since he’s attuned to that kind of thing.
“You know,” Louis says. “The usual. How I like cock, that kind of thing.”
Louis’ coming out story had held the news cycle for a full seven days last month. Nick and Harry’s had held it for two days, six months ago. Sometimes Nick felt bad about that. “All the best people like cock,” Nick says, which is as helpful as he can manage.
“Yeah,” Louis says shortly, and he doesn’t eat the toast.
~*~
By day two, Louis is back to being a dickhead, and Nick is back to considering the best ways to hide the body.
“Your toothpaste is weird,” Louis declares, padding into the kitchen in a pair of Nick’s pyjama bottoms with the bottoms rolled up. “I threw it in the bin because it tastes revolting.”
“Thanks,” Nick says, after Harry kicks him in the ankle. “Do you want tea?”
“You don’t make it right,” Louis says, and he elbows Nick out of the way. “I’ll show you how to do it right.”
“There’s toast,” Nick says, as mildly as he can.
“Thanks,” Louis says, and Nick waits for the punchline, but there isn’t one. Harry smiles at Nick over the top of Louis making tea, but Nick isn’t entirely sure he understands any of this.
“It’s just because he wants to be your friend,” Harry tells him later, when Louis has taken up the whole of the sofa again, and Nick and Harry are relegated to sharing the armchair in the corner if they want to see the TV.
“I heard that,” Louis says, without looking up from his tube of yogurt. Nick had had to go on a special trip to the supermarket when Louis had demanded kids’ yogurt. “And I don’t want to be his friend, that’s stupid. My head hurts, someone make me tea. I’ve been through a very trying ordeal.”
“You fell over your feet,” Nick points out, since the rest of it feels a little confusing to him.
“Whilst defending your honour,” Louis says. “Someone get me a biscuit.”
Which, what.
“What?” Harry asks, carefully.
Louis concentrates on his tube of yogurt. “Oh,” he says, “didn’t I mention that? It wasn’t just me liking cock that they were bothered about. It was sort of, you know, us.”
“Oh,” Nick says. “The three of us.”
“Yes,” Louis says. “And then I fell over my feet.”
“Right,” Nick says.
“Right,” Louis says. “Do you want to get me another blanket? This one’s itchy.”
“Are you sure this is him wanting to be my friend?” Nick asks Harry, as Harry makes a big deal of licking Nick’s neck, probably just because he can.
“This is him going all out,” Harry says, kissing the corner of Nick’s mouth. “He’s pulling out all of the stops.”
“Right,” Nick says again, and stands up to get Louis a blanket.
