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Under Construction VI

Read Under Construction here | ~7.2k

From Me/warnings: a sick fic, fluffy, angsty stuff, and Evan

Summary: “Y’scared me,” he admitted. “Not quite falling off your roof, but close. Y’do this t’all your boyfriends?” There was a smile in his voice. “S’this a test of some kind?” She snorted and then winced. “Sorry,” he kissed her forehead. “No jokes.”

March was the longest month of the year.

Teachers should be paid double in the month of March.

She groaned as her alarm went off and her head felt like a balloon was taking residence where her brain was supposed to be. Or behind her eyes. And her ears. Then there was the whole thing with her nose and her throat. Pretty much anything an otolaryngologist would oversee, felt like it was swollen.

Standing up, she moaned again. It felt like her skin hurt. Without turning on the light, she made it to her bathroom. Blindly she reached for the cabinet door of the vanity. As she opened it, it came off in her hand and dropped on her foot, corner first of course. She hissed and rubbed her other foot on top of her injury while the broken door flopped to the ground too loudly for that early in the morning and for someone that felt like they were suffering from the worst hangover of their life.

Sighing she felt blindly for the thermometer among the shelves in the cabinet.

It was definitely DJ. DJ coughed and sneezed all over everything last week regardless of how many times she reminded him of good hygiene practices. There wasn’t enough hand sanitizer and anti-bacterial soap in the world to stop the super germs of kindergarteners.

Moaning she made her way back to her bed and flopped down. No fever. Despite the fact she felt like she was sweating. All she wanted was a break. One little day. But no fever meant this was doable. It was just a cold. She would sleep for another hour. Show up on time instead of early. She’d been doing this long enough so that she could wing together anything that needed to be put together in a last-minute, last-ditch effort and it would still turn out okay, at least. Either way, the little ones wouldn’t know. Miss Bee would be her happy normal self, just a little sniffly. A little sweaty. A little tired.

She just needed one extra hour of sleep.

Harry was worried.

She didn’t answer him yesterday afternoon. Not that he demanded nor needed her undivided attention, but he had never seen her leave work early (early for her, that is). He wasn’t quite sure how he missed her. It was probably like a bad sitcom. Harry saw her at dismissal, fortunately there was no Evan so maybe he didn’t feel the need to keep an eye on her as close as he normally did. That was perhaps his mistake. So, when he looked back, she was gone. He headed down the path to her classroom door, peered in like an absolute creep. He was lucky he did the background check that first day he met her. He was certain the police would have been by to arrest him otherwise. But her lights were off. A novelty. In the six months he had known her, not once had he approached her classroom after school and found it, for all intents and purposes, dark.

It was Tuesday. They always laminated and cut paper on Tuesdays.

He frowned at her empty classroom. Hey Bird, everything okay? You leaving in a hurry for something?

How had he missed her? It went unanswered and after school she was usually pretty, immediately responsive. Running a hand through his hair, he headed back up the path. Her car was gone, and he swore it had to be a joke that he was missing her. He imagined if he was crazy enough to run closer to the road, he would have caught the sight of her taillights heading off.

Turning to his car he sighed. He could swing by her house. That would be a normal boyfriend thing to do, right? It wasn’t crazy, or stalkerish, right?

Right?

“No after school special?” Niall asked.

Once he headed for her classroom, Harry rarely saw Niall after school let out. Niall was just one ladder rung (no pun intended) below Harry on the jobsite, and he was kind enough to check things over at quitting time just so Harry could get even a few extra minutes alone with his pretty bird.

“I guess not,” he mumbled. “S’a bit unlike her. Leaving so quickly. Not answering her texts…”

The one he sent at lunch time because he hadn’t seen her at recess either… Harry’s stomach churned uneasily. Was it something he did? No, it couldn’t be… Their date on Sunday was fine. Everything was fine. So, unless it was something Evan said the day before, or something her pretty brain conjured up in her mind, everything was fine.

“Maybe it was a family emergency,” he shrugged. “I’m sure she’ll text you soon. Don’t stress so much.”

But even if it was nothing to worry about, it still worried him because it was so unlike her. “Driving by her house would be…?”

“Creepy,” Niall stated.

“It would, wouldn’t it?” He grumbled. “She said I could come by any time,” he reminded Niall. They stood facing one another, separated by Harry’s car, Niall leaning back against his driver’s door while Harry leaned against his hood.

“Mm, that’s true. Maybe you could be in the neighborhood. Drive by just to see if she’s home? Maybe she’s just had a long day, and she went home,” he suggested.

Harry nodded. “Yeah, maybe,” he muttered. It just sounded so unlike her. Harry really hoped everything was okay. “Yeah. I’ll drive by,” he confirmed to himself and got in his car without much more thought of it. He sped a little faster and headed to the familiar house with its patched roof and painted shut windows. He wanted to ask her to move in, it would be so much easier, but he knew she loved this house. He didn’t blame her. It was adorable, a great area, and so completely her. If it weren’t for the fact he loved her so much, he probably would have already asked her to abandon it.

He parked in the driveway beside her car, his anxiety easing a little as he headed up the path to her front door and knocked. But then his anxiety kicked right back up as his knock went unanswered. He frowned. Called her phone. Which also went unanswered.

Harry felt bad he was tattling, but he remembered her rule was that it wasn’t tattling if it was a safety concern and there was no question that Harry was concerned for her safety. Hey Louis, it’s Harry. Have you heard from her today? She’s not answering her phone…

No, I haven’t. She must be sick. She’s probably trying to sleep it off and isn’t fully coherent. It’s pretty much the only time her phone goes unanswered. Did she go to work today? She’s insane ya know. I’ll check with her sister just to be safe.

Harry felt only the most minor bouts of relief. However, he was still upset if she was ill and went to work and was hiding it.

I’m… actually at her house. Do you think it’s alright to go in and check on her? She’s not answering the door.

Oh yeah, she’s got an open-door policy for loved ones anyway. Probably especially for you. The spare is on the back side of the welcome sign. It’s hooked on a magnet, can’t miss it. Let me know if she’s worse for wear than we thought.

Harry felt all kinds of emotions as he hurried to find the key and get inside her house. “Hey Bird,” he called, putting the key on the entry table and locking the door behind him. “Y’home?” He asked and kicked his shoes off. It still felt creepy whether he had been granted permission or not. “Kitten,” he called quietly again. “Y’making me a bit nervous,” he admitted and headed through the small hall looking for her. “Oh fuck,” he frowned. She was lying on the bathroom floor. The shower was running, hot steam filling the small room she was almost hard to see. One shoe had fallen off her foot. Her face looked peaceful other than the small wrinkle between her brows like she was in pain. “Hey,” he turned the water off and then crouched beside her. The door to the vanity was gone and flopped on the floor haphazardly. Shit, was she unconscious? Did it hit her? “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he whispered and gently moved her so he could cradle her in his lap. “Kitten?” He tried again. “Bird, m’love, wake up,” he encouraged stroking her face and gently nudging her as best he could without moving her too much in fear the door did hit her head. Then maybe she hit her head again going down. But there was no bump, no cut, not a drop of blood on her face.

She groaned low and long. Pain evident in her face as the peace of her face disappeared and the little stitch in her forehead deepened. “No,” she whined.

“Hey,” he whispered. Relief flooded him. “Bird, s’matter? What happened?”

She coughed hard. Her body was shaking. “S’cold.”

Harry was sweating and so was she. He brushed his hand on the back of her forehead, clammy and a little warm, but not feverish. “Oh, baby,” he frowned.

“M’sleepy.”

“Why didn’t y’say something?” he asked and curled her closer.

“Don’t move me, m’head hurts,” she begged. Making all of Harry’s fears about hitting her head come right back. “I think it’s going to explode,” she explained.

“What’s going t’explode, m’love?”

“My head.”

His heart took off three times as fast. “Bird, did the door hit your head?”

“No, my foot,” she muttered. She was taking him on a roller coaster, and the highs and lows were so jarring he wanted to cry. He glanced at her feet, but she was wearing tights so he couldn’t see anything. “M’head hurts,” she repeated. “I think it’s gonna explode.”

“Kitten,” he frowned. “What happened?”

“M’sick.”

“Why did y’go t’work, Bird?” He whispered and gently scooped her up, one shoe and all. She moaned and tucked her face into his chest.

“No fever.”

“Kitten,” he tisked. “Jus’ because y’don’t have a fever doesn’t mean—”

“Shh…” she sighed. “Please,” her voice cracked, “it hurts so much, and m’so close to crying and then it’ll hurt worse,” she begged, hardly more than a whisper escaped her.

Harry pressed his lips together, brought her to her room and laid her on top of the covers. He kissed the center of her forehead. Wrapping her up in so many blankets she had in the basket from when her room was an icebox. She coughed something fierce, making Harry nearly want to cry for her. She moaned and fell back against her pillow and then was so silent Harry would have seriously worried for a second that she had died if he hadn’t been able to hear her quiet snore through her stuffy nose.

After assuring himself she was alive, he went to her kitchen. His eyes scanned briefly looking for something to help him help her. All the spices were all lined neatly in a shallow little tray—like one you would use to carry items on the patio in the summer. Harry quickly removed them all, leaving them on the counter and searched through her drawers and cabinets looking for things that she would need.

Medicine—cold, flu, anti-inflammatory, pain relievers, cough drops. All of it went on the tray. Next, he grabbed one of her water cups filled in the fridge and placed it with the medicine. Had she eaten? He had no idea, but that would have to wait. He would have to order soup from somewhere nearby. Mum swore by chicken noodle. It was medicinal in its own way. He returned to find her still sound asleep.

It was going to kill him to wake her. But his chest hurt knowing she was unwell. “Baby,” he whispered softly. Almost too softly as he set the tray on her dresser. He grabbed a handful of drugs and her water cup and approached her. “Bird, m’love,” he cooed and gently stroked her face again.

“No,” she whimpered. “No, it hurts,” she didn’t open her eyes, but her lashes developed tiny little crystals, breaking his heart as she sniffled.

“No, baby, don’t cry,” he begged stroking her face as lightly as he could. “I have t’give you medicine. Then you go right back t’sleep, I promise, kitten. M’sorry baby. I’m so sorry.”

She cried anyway. Nonetheless, she did as he asked. Harry placed pills at her lips, and she swallowed her medicine, drank three huge gulps of water, all with her eyes closed. Harry put everything on the tray, climbed into her bed, sitting up against the headboard and brought her head down to his lap. Her cries subsided after a few minutes all while Harry hushed her and as carefully as he could massaged her scalp with his fingertips. When the sniffles and tears finally stopped, Harry felt more relieved than when he realized she wasn’t ignoring him, just simply too sick to move.

While she slept, Harry ordered soup from his phone and continued her head massage for a while. When there was a knock on the door for the soup delivery (seven different soups, two chicken noodle, but other options just in case), Harry slowly removed himself from her bed.

He put all the soup on the counter and headed back to her room. He slowly pulled the covers away from her, whatever the cold medicine he gave her was enough to make her boneless. Her body was hard to move but he would do it slowly and carefully to make her feel better.

Even sick, she was adorable. So cute and pretty Harry almost smiled. She wore a plaid dress with large buttons down the center. A shirt below it since the straps were thin and the neckline was low. Slowly he unbuttoned each one and coaxed her sleeping figure out of her outfit. He removed her remaining shoe, then tore the tights off her legs. He made a mental note to buy her another pair. He couldn’t imagine anything more constricting than the elastic digging into her skin when she wasn’t feeling well. His eyes checked her foot, nothing more than a scrape—not too serious of an injury, thankfully.

In just her underwear, he reached beneath her and unhooked her bra, and he swore she sighed with relief as he removed it from her body. He noted a sweatshirt at the end of her bed. He hadn’t seen it before since his focus was on wrapping her in blankets and nothing else. He grabbed it, slid it over her head and she once more sighed, nuzzling into the collar like she was awake. His heart throbbed painfully in his chest as the Under Construction logo stared back at him. When had she taken this? Not that he cared. Did she sleep in it when he wasn’t around? God, she was cute.

“Harry,” she murmured.

Her sweet, adorable self was going to kill him. He practically groaned hearing her sleep-talk about him. Gently he kissed her forehead, wrapped her back up in her blankets, and left the room once more.

The bathroom looked like a crime scene. The shower curtain was half off the rod, some of the plastic rings were broken. Like she crawled to turn the water on and grabbed the curtain to help herself up. His heart clenched at the thought. He propped the vanity cabinet door against the wall. He’d fix that another day when the sound of his drill wouldn’t hurt her aching head. Then he grabbed her other shoe. She even brought her work bag in with her, which was open and spilling onto the floor as well. Some of the papers inside curled from the steam she made from turning the shower on too hot. Good thing she didn’t get in, she would have burned herself.

Everything alright? Louis texted.

She’s real sick. I just gave her some medicine and put her to bed.

Good. She loves to watch Disney movies when she’s sick. Loves ginger ale. Even if it’s not a stomach thing. Swears it soothes her throat. Harry went to the fridge and grabbed a can of soda as well.

Good to know. I’ll put some on. Her head was killing her.

She gets migraines when she’s run down. Harry swore to himself and sighed. He should have known.

Shit. Thanks. I’ll… keep you posted.

Harry returned to her room, she was still asleep, soundly. He felt relieved. He placed her bag by the door and crawled back onto the bed beside her. He continued his scalp massage and eventually, he found himself asleep too.

She missed her un-insulated room. It was much too hot, and she thought she was going to combust. She moaned quietly, her head still aching, though she could at least move without fear of passing out or throwing up or both.

Her skin still hurt, and her body ached all over. How did she not have a fever?

“Hey pretty bird,” his voice was low and rumbly in her ear. Good God, did he sound good for her tired body. “Y’awake?” He asked.

She blinked, her head still felt balloon like and not quite attached to her neck as she turned to look up at Harry gazing down at her in the near dark. Everything had a blurry dark gray-blue tint. Like it was about to downpour. “Hmm…” she hummed. Her forehead pounded. She thought her brain was trying to escape. “Harry?” She questioned. She didn’t remember seeing him after school. How did she get home? How did she get in her bed? Was she naked? How did that happen?

There were too many questions and not enough brain power to answer them all.

“Hi baby,” he whispered. Her head might have hurt, and she was sweating beneath the blankets and her Amazonian-like room, but her stomach was working just fine and somersaulted over the softness of Harry calling her baby when she didn’t feel good.

She spent six hours a day, five days a week caring for little ones. Ensuring they were happy, healthy, and learning. She spent an undoubtedly high number thinking about them seven days a week. Since moving out of her parents’ home at eighteen, no one had cared for her or been so gentle with her (especially not Evan) when she was sick since she was young. Not even herself. She tried to push herself up, but Harry gently pushed her back down. “Hey, no, no,” he cooed softly. “Jus’ stay still, yeah?” He asked. “Jus’ rest,” he ordered.

“What…?” She swallowed, the feeling in her throat was dry, sore, painful. She cleared her throat which felt like knives.

“Here,” he slithered lower in her bed and brought the straw of her cup to her lips. The water tasted like chocolate. Not actual chocolate, but the idea of having chocolate prior to getting your period and it tasted so good she wished she could swim in it. He rubbed his thumb on her temple while she sipped, easing the tension she felt in her eyebrows trying to pinch her forehead in the middle. “How are y’feeling, kitten?” His breath was cool and minty. Did he ever smell bad? Probably not. She remembered every unseasonably warm day in October that Harry never smelled gross despite working in the hot sun. What an unfair glitch. She probably smelled like sweat right then. And a cough. Whatever that smelled like. “Y’scared me,” he admitted. “Not quite falling off your roof, but close. Y’do this t’all your boyfriends?” There was a smile in his voice. “S’this a test of some kind?” She snorted and then winced. “Sorry,” he kissed her forehead. “No jokes.”

“Did you undress me?” Was that really the most pressing question she needed answered?

A wave of guilt washed over Harry. He felt his face warm with embarrassment. He was so focused on making her feel better, he hadn’t considered that she wouldn’t want him undressing her unconscious body. “Yes, m’sorry. I jus’ wanted you t’be comfortable,” he frowned. “Did I mess up?” He asked. “M’sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed—”

“No, no,” she said softly and squeezed his hip where her hand rested. She could hear the guilt in his voice and no, she decided, it wasn’t the most pressing question to ask him. She shouldn’t have bothered. Harry had seen her naked countless times in the last six months. That wasn’t something he should have felt guilty over. “Mi body es su body,” she joked lamely. “I’m sweating,” she said softly and pushed the blankets away from her. Harry helped unravel her from her cocoon. Harry reached across her to grab the remote control to the fan that she normally had blowing on her, but Harry couldn’t bring himself to turn on when she was shivering earlier. He could see her physically deflate once the cool air spilled over her. “I thought I tried showering,” she cleared her throat again. It hurt less since there was water coating her esophagus, but it still ached quite a bit.

“You did,” his frown was still etched on his pretty lips. “Baby, y’scared me so much,” he was so close to her face. “Y’didn’t tell me y’weren’t feeling well. Didn’t answer,” he pushed a strand of her hair behind her ear.

“You’re gonna get sick,” she whispered.

“Then I get sick,” he shrugged. But he was pretty confident in his immune system. Even if he was doing manual labor, she worked about two to three times harder than him. Probably more rundown than he was in comparison. “Why didn’t’ y’tell me?” He asked.

She turned her head to cough, and he continued stroking her hair. “I don’t really think straight when I’m sick,” she explained. “I use every spare bit of energy to focus on the kids at school.”

He was downright pouting in the shadowy dark she could barely see him in. “Y’shouldn’t have gone t’work.”

“You don’t know how much more work it is to make sub plans.”

“I would have made them for you,” he assured her. Her chest ached with love for him so hard it felt like a rib was going to crack. “Would have gone in t’teach them even.”

She smiled and willed her tired, overrun body not to cry at his thoughtfulness. “Thank you,” she whispered. “That’s so sweet to offer.”

“You can’t go t’work tomorrow.”

“I feel so much better… what time is it?”

“S’late. I got y’soup. Are y’hungry?”

She sat up slowly, put one hand to her temple and slid out of bed. “I probably need to eat. I skipped lunch in favor of not dying and napping instead.”

“Miss Bird,” Harry frowned and walked her down the hall to her kitchen. She didn’t turn on any lights and she looked at the six cartons of soup on her counter.

“You got me a lot of soup,” she murmured and squinted to read the labels in the semi dark. The low glow of the clock on her stove said it was a little after nine. She sighed. Tomorrow would be better, right? This was the worst of it. Harry opened a soda can, and she turned to see him offer the ginger ale to her. She stared at him in disbelief. “Did you text Louis?”

“Bird, I was scared. I thought I did something wrong or worse y’were hurt,” she was a little too in love with the thought that was the order of severity for him.

“That’s very sweet,” she sipped the cold soda, the bubbles soothing the ache in her throat the way the water had but it was still sweeter and better even though it made no sense.

“What kind of soup do y’want?” He asked.

“Whatever will make me better to deal with six-year-olds by six AM.”

“Y’cannot be serious,” he shook his head and put two pints of soup into the microwave.

“It’s too late for sub plans. If I try to look at a computer right now, I’m sure I’ll have an aneurysm.”

“Kitten. S’not a good idea. You’ll be sick and tired. The kids will—”

“I’ve done this before, I know what I’m doing!” She protested. “I promise.”

“Jus’ because you’ve done it before means y’should. Nor do I agree with you.”

She nodded. She noted that Harry stopped the microwave before it beeped and opened the door as quietly as possible. He poured the soup into bowls and was cautious not to let the spoons clink against the glass. Her heart swam in the warmth of love that crushed her. Harry saw more of her and cared for her more in the last six months (even in the last six hours) than anyone ever had. “I need to shower,” she said while she welcomed the burns that she was giving her tongue and the inside of her mouth as she ate her soup. It felt soothing in a way she couldn’t quite explain.

Harry took the soup away from her and brought it to the small table she had between her kitchen and living room. He came back and tugged her to the chair in front of her bowl. He ate across from her. In the dark. Only the light from the streetlight barely filtering past her blinds.

“Can I stay in the bathroom while y’do?” He asked referring to her statement on showering.

“I don’t think that’s necessary.”

“M’not sure y’understand how nervous y’made me. I’ll leave after that,” he promised.

I don’t want you to leave. It would have been so easy to say. Harry was so comforting, and he felt so good to sleep next to. It seemed she had been asleep for at least five hours, and she wanted nothing more than to stay snuggled next to him. But he had to work tomorrow, and he needed to be awake at four. “Okay,” she sighed. “It’s really not necessary,” she repeated.

“Mmm,” he hummed.

Harry made her blow dry her hair, it was loud and made her head throb, but he refused to let her go to bed with wet hair. “You’ll get an ear infection or something,” he insisted. Which sounded like an old wives’ tale, but his thoughtfulness was too much. He gave her another round of medicine and kissed her forehead once he had her comforter tucked around her in bed. “Good night, Miss Bird,” he said softly. “Please consider not going t’work tomorrow,” he repeated.

“Okay,” she whispered softly.

She felt sleepy, warm, cared for, and comforted. She wished she could open her mouth to ask Harry to stay. It felt sad to see him go. Overwhelmed by how bad she was feeling. She knew he would stay. But it wasn’t fair. He hadn’t showered the day off him, and he would be up in a little under six hours by the time he’d get settled in bed in his own house. “S’matter?” He asked.

“Nothing,” she shook her head. “Just don’t feel good,” she sniffed and tried, tried so hard to push her emotions down so she wouldn’t cry. If she cried, Harry would worry. He would stay and the poor thing probably wanted to go home and sleep in his own bed just as much as she wanted to sleep without pain.

“Hey,” he cooed. “Baby,” and she was done for. Tears spilled over before she could stop them. The dim light from the hall catching those little water crystals like diamonds in the sun. How on earth this beautiful girl made crying look so pretty had to be one of the greatest paradoxes in the world. “No baby, don’t cry,” he swiped the tears away.

“I know you want to go home, but I don’t want you to,” she sniveled.

His heart broke. She was a beautiful grown woman and he loved her so much. She was adorable, just his sweatshirt around her pretty, sick body. Even though Harry had spent hours taking care of her, she still felt like she had to take care of him. “Kitten, I don’t want t’leave you at all. I never want t’leave you, why would y’think that?”

She felt so ridiculous. Sad, tired, sick, run down, exhausted. “Because it’s late and you have to get up early and you haven’t showered and I’m so gross and so much work and it’s—”

“Bird, m’love, shh,” he hushed her ranting and shifted himself on the bed and combed her hair. “Y’can always ask me t’stay,” he whispered. “Shh,” he whispered, shifting her to lay against his chest. He rocked her gently. “M’gonna let y’fall asleep. Then I’ll shower and come right back, yeah?” He offered. “I don’t have t’go anywhere,” he promised.

“Okay,” she sniffled. “I’m sor—”

“Shh,” he kissed the top of her head. “I love you, bird. Go to sleep.”

“I love you too,” she croaked.

“Good, now sleep, baby,” he murmured.

So she had no choice but to listen.

Harry’s alarm went off at four. She moaned quietly against his chest. He kissed the top of her head like he’d been awake the whole time waiting to wake her up gently. “M’gonna go home, baby,” that name warmed her. It felt like the medicine he gave her. “S’that okay? I can come back. S’not far. I’ll be quick.” It nearly broke his heart to hear how sad she was last night. He was going to address their living situation as soon as she felt better. This felt like he was going to war and not five minutes around the corner. He could sense her thinking it over in that pretty brain of hers. It spun over in her mind, and she wanted nothing more than to ask but he knew she wouldn’t.

Even in the dark he could see it. “No, that’s alright,” she murmured very softly.

He was already planning on coming back. He shouldn’t have bothered to ask. “Okay, go back t’sleep, bird. I’ll check on you at recess,” he assured her. “How do y’feel?”

“Better.”

It was a little bit of the truth mixed with some untruth. Her head still throbbed, her throat still hurt. But it was better than yesterday. She knew she wasn’t going to have a fever. After a few more mumbled words to Harry, she was only half certain she remembered to say, “I love you,” and only vaguely aware that her front door closed before she was asleep again.

When her alarm went off at six, (what felt like five minutes later from Harry’s departure), she wasn’t the one to turn it off. She groaned softly, turning to find Harry settling her phone back on her nightstand. She frowned immediately, her eyes watering. “You came back,” she whispered keeping up with the thought of Harry going to off to war and not just to his house.

He chuckled quietly, kissed her forehead again. “I couldn’t leave you, kitten. Not when y’feel so poorly, Bird,” he answered. She wondered if she could permanently fix his fingers to her hair and scalp. He smelled so good, again. He showered again and was wearing cologne. Everything about his presence was like a warm hug, physical medicine that would have fixed her up if he wasn’t giving her actual medicine.

“But what about work?”

“I can be late. They know what they’re doing.”

“I love you, so much.”

He chuckled. “I love you, too, baby.”

“I think I should sleep another hour.”

He nestled further into the pillows, wrapping her close to him, and he kissed her again. “Whatever y’want, kitten.”

Harry was insistent on driving in together. He gave her another round of medicine. Got her bag organized, her lunch packed. Hoping it would get her more time to rest while he did those things. He drove her car, parked in her unassigned but assigned parking space. He gave her a kiss on the cheek and headed to the job site promising once more he would check on her at recess.

Other than completely, totally sweet, she thought nothing more of his kindness. There wasn’t enough time to think about it. There was morning work to deal with, attendance to submit, lunch counts, and all the other parts of her morning routine to take care of while her head felt like someone was hammering the inside of her skull repeatedly. By the time the kids had settled onto the carpet, she wasn’t thinking about Harry (as much as she wanted to). Her head hurt and her kids were needy.

So, she did a true double take while Mae was reading the date and schedule for the day to the rest of the class when the door to her classroom opened. Her jaw dropped and many of her students’ eyes followed her gaze.

“Mr. Harry!” Hadley shouted.

Any of the students that hadn’t turned to him all turned to the door at that moment. There was visitor sticker on his chest. He was wearing regular clothes. A long-sleeved shirt, a pair of jeans, and trainers instead of work boots.

The excitement unfolded quickly. Her minor wince made his heart ache for her. It was his fault; he caused the excitement. “Hey, hey, hocus pocus,” he called gently.

“Everybody focus!”

She now understood why Harry found that so attractive when she did that. That was one of the hottest things she’d ever seen him do. (And he did this thing with his tongue that was truly mind-blowing.) She coughed into her elbow and shook her head. “Mr. Harry… We weren’t expecting you,” she said quietly.

He smiled. “I was thinking I haven’t been t’school in a long time and I wanted t’do some learning. Do we have an extra spot for me today?”

The group cheered while she sneezed into her tissue. She wiped her nose daintily, dropped it into the small trash can he had no doubt was filled with tissues already and knew the can was following her around the classroom.

“Miss Bee is sick,” Brayden explained.

Her cheeks turned pink which was great because she needed a bit of color for Harry to allow her to stay and not drag her out the room and back home. She used hand sanitizer attached to her lanyard. “Is she?” He frowned. He thought of the sweet girl crying into his shirt as she fell asleep last night. She looked so normal right now. Pretending. Hiding. Showing up for her students because she loved them beyond her own well-being.

Well, two could play at that game.

“You don’t have to work?” She asked suspiciously.

“Nope,” he said simply. “School’s more important.”

She rolled her lips into her mouth and hid her cough in her elbow again. Harry winked at her and took a seat on her carpet. Janie giggled as his big body overflowed the square he picked. He gave Janie a high five and she was pretty certain one over her ovaries was popping. Everyone was still kind of giggly over his presence. “Think we gotta let Mae continue, yeah?”

Her heart simply burst.

During reading time, Harry read a chapter of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory for her. Like he read to the group every day. Harry asked questions. Good questions. Prompted them to think, ask their own questions, make predictions. How could she possibly love him more? He walked around to her groups when she was too tired to check on them. When she coughed too hard, he brought her water cup across the room. He made sure she ate lunch, walked around the perimeter of the playground (stopping at the fence to get a hot cup of tea from Niall to soothe her throat).

When the kids went to specials, she stared at Harry. “You can’t skip work every time I’m sick.”

He simply smiled, continued helping her clean, and organized while they were gone. “Watch me, baby.”

Her cheeks burned.

But truth be told he was exhausted. More exhausted than he thought. She did this every day? Teachers should be paid triple. Double that amount in March. In like a lion out like a lamb was wrong. In like a lion out like a tornado was more like it.

Harry would need a counter next time. She must have repeated directions eight times in the span of a minute. Settling student disputes and sending an email at the same time was a choreographed dance. She punched the straw through three juice boxes while reading the slide off the SmartBoard at the same time. All while feeling like death warmed over.

He knew she was a superhero. He didn’t need proof. But it was something else to watch up close.

“What?” She sniffled. Not once did she complain about her head, the cough, her sneeze. “Do I have snot on my face? I’m gonna crawl in a hole and—”

“You are incredible Miss Bird. Everyone in the world should have t’go t’school for a day. But everyone should have to try a day in your classroom.”

She smiled weakly. “Some days are easier than others.”

“Did I make today easier?”

She nodded. “Yes. So much so. That was….” She shook her head. “Thank you. I needed that.”

He smiled. “Good.”

She skipped family dinner. She was sick and wanted to lounge in bed. She was going to be behind in life, work, and at home for a week. But it was the best she could do.

She ate one of the soups Harry left for dinner. Then he came around at six PM. “Hey, pretty bird, did y’nap?”

God, she loved him. She loved him so much it seemed insane that she did anything but say it. There should be no work. No jobs. She should just be required to say “Harry I love you” twenty-four hours a day, three-hundred and sixty-five days a year.

“And had soup,” she murmured into his shirt. He smelled so good. There was a bag over his shoulder.

“Good girl,” he scooped her up behind her thighs, wrapped them around his hips and carried her to her bedroom. He deposited her gently on the bed and then dropped his bag.

“Are you staying?” There was a lot of hope in her voice.

“M-hmm,” he stripped instantly making her heart flutter. He pulled a pair of sweat from his bag and over his legs followed by a T-shirt. “Ratatouille sound good?”

“Louis is a tattletale,” she stated.

He kissed the top of her head and headed to the kitchen to get his own pint of soup. “S’not tattling if we have a safety concern, kitten.”

The next day, her brain didn’t feel quite as balloon-like. The cough and sneezing had subsided enough to a manageable level.

But she swore all of it came roaring back when Evan appeared at the end of the day. Like a contagion in his own right. Harry’s gaze was ever-present and warm on the side of her face. Hot, really. She could feel it intensely—more so than the other days. “Milo buddy, watch your shoes.”

She imagined hitting him with one of Milo’s shoes repeatedly. Fortunately, the little one didn’t notice her need for bodily harm.

“Uncle Ev, Miss Bee’s boyfriend came to school yesterday.”

Her heart stopped and she choked on her own spit followed by a massive coughing fit. Evan stared at her with disdain, as did Milo (with curiosity however). She had a hand on her throat, surprised by Milo’s confession. If Evan was bothered by her relationship status, there was no outward expression to indicate it.

“Y’okay, Miss Bee?” Oh Lord.

Harry was suddenly there looking at her like she had a bone protruding. He pulled a water bottle from behind his back. His back pocket?

“Hi Mr. Harry!” Milo bloomed.

“Hey lad, how was kindergarten today? How’s our latest book?” He asked, squeezing his shoulder while avoiding touching Evan.

“I can read Green Eggs and Ham all by myself!”

“S’awesome, lad,” he held his hand out for a high five all while Evan stared in disbelief and she sipped from the bottle.

“Harry helpeded me how to sound out words I don’t know like Miss Bee,” Milo explained.

“Helped, my love,” she said very gently.

He grinned at both Milo and her. Harry hardly looked at Evan. But his eyes couldn’t leave Harry alone. She couldn’t blame him—he was incredible. “I’m sorry. We haven’t met, are you a teachers aid?” He said it condescendingly.

“I wish,” Harry snorted. “Harry Styles. I’m the foreman on the jobsite next door,” he held his hand out for Evan to shake.

“I’m going to work for him when I’m older,” Milo told his uncle.

Could she adopt him? The look of shock on Evan’s face made her want to take a picture.

“Maybe by then I’ll be working for you, lad,” Harry winked.

Could she marry Harry? They’d be a cute little family.

“I’m sorry. I’m lost.”

“Mr. Harry plays with us sometimes,” Milo shrugged casually. Like it was obvious and normal. “Sometimes he volunteers in Miss Bee’s room and fixes everything, Uncle Ev. He knows how to fix everything. He fixed Miss Bee’s desk, her bookshelf, her closet. Maybe he could fix the hole in your wall at home for you!”

Adopt, adopt, adopt, adopt. She bit the inside of her lip to keep from laughing. Harry chuckled quietly. “I’d be happy t’look at it,” he popped one shoulder up knowing full and well that Evan would never ask Harry for help with home improvements.

“Hmm. Right. Well. Do you have any qualifications teaching?”

“No, but I got a niece m’awfully fond of myself,” he said proudly. “And Miss Bee is a pretty good teacher to show me some of the ropes.”

“Mr. Harry is like Miss Bee. He’s in charge of his crew on the site. It’s so cool Uncle Evan.”

She wondered if he would explode. Harry paid no attention to the praise. “Just came t’check on you,” he put a hand on her lower back briefly. “Y’need help today?” He asked. “I’ll meet y’down in your room. Nice meeting you, Evan. Milo, lad, see you later alligator?”

“In a while crocodile!”

The silence that ensued was deafening. “You have a boyfriend that volunteers in your classroom?” He asked. The distaste in his voice was enough to make her skin crawl but she nodded.

“Yes,” she said softly.

“Is that legal?”

She wanted to scream. “Perfectly. He’s got a background check on file, and he doesn’t volunteer the whole day. Yesterday was the first day. I can assure you, he’s a great volunteer, just like any other parent volunteer I’ve had in the past,” it wasn’t unusual for parents to offer volunteer services. Not to the degree Harry was offering them but that probably was the perk of dating him. “The kids like him and his partner, Niall. They say hi to them at recess.”

Evan stared at her. “He spends all that time in your classroom and helping you out for a measly five minutes of a relationship per day?”

She straightened her back, inhaled as best she could through her stuffy nose, and turned her attention to Milo. “I’ll see you tomorrow, my love, alright?” She grinned sweetly. “Evan,” she muttered and headed back inside.

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#I SHOULD brag about Harry more #Xxxx I'm CRYING #i know i want someone to dote on me that much #i get a whole 'heres a cough drop. suck it up" (in a kind way)#the amount of soups LOL #no comment on any weddings 🤭#thank you for reading and sharing 💕#I always look forward to reading your thoughts 💕

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