Harry Styles Imagines and Preferences

You Get Sick During A Taxi Ride Home

Harry's P.O.V.

"How much longer Jeff?" I asked the stocky older man behind the wheel moving at a glacier speed. He stoked his hair with his left hand while his right one casually brushed against the wheel, ya know not like he's driving or anything.

"Twenty, tops." He replied in a drill sergeant type of way. I sighed lightly and continued to brush the small hairs off of Y/N's forehead. She was burning up and her body trembled as she slumped against the window. I moved close to her so I could try my best to calm her churning stomach and throbbing headache but there's only so much I could do.

"We're almost home baby," I whispered lightly into her ear, making sure not to hurt her head even more.

She winced slightly and I began to rub small circles into her shoulders—something I'd do back home when her head would hurt. But by the look on her face I could tell she wasn't feeling much better.

"When we get home baby I'll make you feel better," I said quietly. "I'll make you some tea and drug you up," I joked slightly and she cracked a small smile. Even when she was feeling horrible she still managed to crack a smile.

"Can you put honey in the tea?" She croaked out.

I nodded my head and kissed her temple lightly. "Of course I will honey."

She smiled once more before tucking her face into the crook of my neck and falling asleep in my arms.