salute [h.s]

december 5 - overly bundled up for the weather

december 5 - overly bundled up for the weather

1D Fanfic

Another platonic OT5 thing (that totally got away from me and it's got all sorts of whispers this time around). Either way, it is Niall-centric.

*

Niall burst into the building with a bang and a loud sneeze that was forced out of him so violently that he bent at the waist to recover from it. The snow swept in behind him on the wind and he reached to slam the door shut behind him before more of the cold could come in. With a sniffle and a pat of his boots on the mat, he finally looked up at the other occupants of the room.

He was getting three blank stares from three of his bandmates, and another from Lou who was watching him with wide eyes. Louis sauntered in through a door off to the side and was the only one not looking at him like he had two heads. "Oh look, Niall's here."

"Sorry I'm late," he croaked as he stepped away from the door. Instead of peeling off his layers of clothing, he stuck his mitten-clad hands into his pocket because he just couldn't seem to get warm. "I woke up so late this morning."

"You look like shit," Zayn informed him, eyeing him warily.

"You sound like shit too," Harry added, his brow crunched up with concern. "Are you ill?"

"I'm fine," Niall insisted as he crossed the room and joined the rest of the guys on the couches that had been set up backstage of the show they were meant to be appearing on (he'd lost track at this point - so much promo). He sagged back onto one of the plush couches, sighing and letting his eyes drift shut as he tilted his head to rest on the back.

Truth be told, he was exhausted and everything on his entire body was hurting right now. His throat was winning the prize for biggest pain in the arse, followed by his head, his sinuses, and then finally his chest. He'd been sneezing since he woke up and he'd also coughed up some stuff that did not have a good colour to it which he immediately tossed into the bin. He wanted to be in his bed still, curled up under his warm blankets but this appearance had been booked ages ago and there were crowds of fans waiting for them. He couldn't let them, or the rest of the band, down.

The brim of his hat was pulled up and then a cool hand was curving over his forehead. He shivered at the feeling, groaning as he tried to shift his head away. Another hand grabbed his chin roughly, holding his head in place as the hand on his forehead was flipped to the other side and then back to palm-down.

"You're burning, Niall," Harry's voice muttered. Niall forced his eyes open when Harry tapped his cheek twice gently. He harrumphed when he saw his mate's green eyes full of concern, his tongue poking out between his lips in consideration.

"I'm fine," he repeated, pouting. He craned his head away when Liam tried to do the same thing, squeezing past Harry and reaching his grabby hands out for his face. "Get away."

"Well, you can't do the interview, that's for sure," Louis said with absolute certainty, as if he was speaking Niall's words for him. Which he wasn't because Niall was not missing this interview.

"I can do it."

"We're in Sweden Niall," Louis said with a shake of his head, "they can barely understand your Irish accent as it is. It'll be hopeless if all your words are an octave lower and you can't get through a sentence without coughing on it."

Niall crossed his arms over his chest, giving Louis a fierce look that he hoped was threatening. Apparently, it wasn't because Louis didn't seem phased at all. "I talk just fine. My accent is endearing and people love it."

Louis rolled his eyes hard and then got up from where he had been perched on the couch's arm. "I'm going to find a producer or something and tell them you're ill. Maybe they can turn the sound off on your mic or something."