Coming Home

H.P.O.V

And I didn't want you to hurt me. But if that's what it takes for you to stay, then do what you must.

This morning was all grunts, and vomit. With flushed cheeks, and sad eyes.

This morning was all worried whispers, hair being held back, and warm hugs, until Presley seemed to feel settled. Right now, it's all about finding a snack gentle enough that she will be able to keep down, and not hate me for basically pushing it down her throat.

"Babe, it's a tiny snack. You only have to eat a few bits."

"Harry, no," Presley grumbles. Her lips are in a tight line, frowning slightly. "You have to go get my parents soon."

"In time sweetheart," I remind slowly. "Ben and Lou are coming to keep you company while I go fetch them."

"Fine," she mumbles and curls away. Presley gets defensive when she's sick. She gets frustrated and annoyed easily. She won't speak unless spoken too, and she hates to be touched, unless she asks.

It almost feels like I'm dealing with a temperamental toddler. And if I want to remain alive, I can't let that get out.

"Okay, now let's sit up and eat," if Presley's looks could kill, my mum would be attending my funeral.

"No."

"Presley--"

"No, I don't want to eat."

"I know you don't want to," I've had to change my shirt three times as proof. The first two times were accidents, the third, I am positive Presley did it out of spite for calling Ben. "But you've not eaten all day, and frankly I'd rather you not fade away."

"Go away." Presley demands after a few seconds. "Walk out, and I don't know, just-- go away."

I let her words brush off me. Let them roll of my shoulders, and instead of a rebuttal, I grab the cubed fruit in a shaky grip. "Just a few bites, okay?"

"Just go away, okay?" Presley bites back.

"Now you're just being difficult," I sigh.

"I'm tired Harry," she rubs her eyes, but luckily sits herself up, and glares at me. "You're an awful person with ridiculously long hair."

"You love my hair."

"I do," she nods.

"Are we going to act our age, and eat like we're supposed to?"

"Are we going to leave me alone if I agree?"

I sit at the edge of the bed, and tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. I want to cuddle her, and I can't because I'm afraid she'll choke me, and I'll die.

"My sweet baby," I coo. Maybe a childlike tone will be the trick. Okay. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing," and by the way her lips pout, and her hands begin playing with her fruit, I know that's not true.
She curls her body towards me (and if I'm secretly ecstatic that I'm being given permission to touch her-- well, nobody needs to know) she lets her head rest on my shoulder, and her legs lay over my lap. Her face rubs the side of my neck like she's trying to hide.

"Hey now," small gestures, I have to remember that. "Why is my sweet baby being such a bitch?" I should have been afraid for my life by my choice of words. Should have been ready to run. By I relax by Presley's small laugh, and the need to sprint is gone when she nuzzles closer.

A few seconds pass and I'm concerned Presley is contemplating the easiest way to kill me.

"My stomach hurts," she finally admits after six years. Her words are soft, and small, and adorably sad that I just want to hold her, and rub her back, and maybe if I'm allowed, brush her hair.

"I know my love," I kiss her hair. "Why don't I grab your medicine, and you can take a tiny nap until Ben and Louis come, yeah? Maybe when you wake up, you'll feel tons better."

"I don't want my medicine," Presley says suddenly. "I'm not sick Harry. It's just a stomach ache."

"I know," Presley's medicine is a sore subject. You have to tread lightly around it, and careful when you bring it up. "Baby, I won't make you take it now," common ground is what we need. "But if you wake up from your nap still upset, and in pain, then I won't think twice about it. Understand?"

"Harr--"

"Sweetheart, yes or no?"

"Yes," she grumbles, no further attempt at a rebuttal.

"Good," I'm grateful that a common ground still exists. "Now let's get you tucked in. I want you well rested for your folks."

****
When I left I was promised Presley would be resting. That if Louis wasn't going to be the responsible one, Ben would be.

So I left, met Presley's parents at the airport, and drove back. While having to answer the same question in different ways, and ignoring stupid comments from the nosey people in who decided to follow me.

And I understand her dad is worried about her. I'm always worried about her too, but I think asking if I give her water, about six hundred times is a bit extreme.

"And what about her medicine? Does she take that on time?

"She does, yes."

"And her vitamins?" Presley's mum questions with a sharp brow. "My bab--"

"Our baby," her dad interrupts.

Presley's mom gives him a look and nods. "Our baby, needs her vitamin C and vitamin A, Harry. Helps her relax."

"Of course," patience. I need to remember what patience means.

"Thanks for picking us up," Steve smiles. He wheels his suitcase to a stop by his feet, and helps Susan with hers. "I'm sure you're dying to see Presley too. It's not easy leaving her when she's under the weather."

"It's not," Louis had to basically kick me out. "I tend to worry about her a lot. Kinda think I suffocate her."

"It's good that you do, Presley's quite stubborn. Gets it from her mother."

"Excuse you," Susan snorts, slapping her husband. "Keep it up and you'll be sleeping outside."

"Yes mam," Steve sulks for a second. He perks as the door opens and Louis comes out beaming, with a steaming mug in his hand.

"Hello there," Louis' smiles and helps with the suitcases as best he can, with only one hand. "I hope you've had a smooth flight, and Harry here wasn't too angsty." They hug Louis, and I have to bite my tongue on why it's so easy for them to be so friendly with Louis, when it seems all but forced with me.

"It was fine," Susan shrugs.

"Where's my baby," Steve says, no time for pleasantries. His head swivels to look around, and when we hear Ben's voice cooing, he automatically follows it.

And I don't like what I see.

Don't like that I had to leave Presley with Ben. And I sure as fuck don't like that they're laying in the same bed together, legs tangled, arms wrapped around each other, as they sleep.

I don't like this, and I blame my luck.

"She was trying to stay awake," Louis chuckles. "But we had a bit of tea with biscuits, and she kinda passed out."

"Lou, she's sick. She can't eat biscuits." Louis going to be a terrible parent.

Louis rolls his eyes, and nods. "Duh stupid. She only had tea." Maybe he'll only be half bad.

"She's so cute," her mum sighs. "Lets go unpack Steve. We'll wait until she wakes up by herself. Poor kid needs to sleep off the bug."

"Okay," Steve looks like a child being told no, when he asked for a second dessert. "But you're unpacking. I'm taking a nap."

Louis leads them to their guest room, and when they're out and the door shuts, I shake Ben's shoulder and wait for him to wake up.

It only takes a few seconds.

A few too many seconds, actually.

"What?" He snaps rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"You can go, I'm back." I really just wish I could manhandle him, and throw him off the bed.

"Shouldn't you be entertaining the in laws?"

"Later. Presley comes first right now." Ben grunts his annoyance, and begins to move. He manages to free his bottom half, but Presley seems to be gripping to his t-shirt, hard enough for it to rip.

"Doesn't seem like she wants to me to go," Ben smirks.

"Don't make me hit you," I would gladly enjoy hurting Ben. I'll get a happy thrill from it.

Ben sighs disappointedly, and finally slips out. He kisses the top of her head, and manages to leave (before I could throw him out) before he can see Presley's face.

And fuck. If he had seen her face, I don't think he would have ever left. No matter how many beatings, I'd inflict.

Presley looks up at me. Her eyes are glistening, and her lips barely wobbling.
Fuck.

"Oh, my pretty baby," she remains silent, but scoots, making room on the bed. "Don't be sad, my love. I'm here." She cuddles on top of me, and settles herself once more. "Close your eyes and sleep baby. When you wake up, you'll feel better."

"No I won't," she mumbles exhausted.

"If you don't, I'll give you some medicine, so you'll feel better. You'll be back to your old self in no time."

"No medicine," Presley slurs. "Just an ache."

"Okay," I humor her. "Sleep now, though." She says something small, and jumbled, before her body stills, and her body goes heavy with sleep, mine not far behind.

Notes

H.F.D. Xxx