Yes, Boss

ninety two.

Flora. 

"Promise you'll be okay?" He asks, squatting down into a crouch by the edge of the sofa where I'm half asleep, having woken up at 6am with a fever and a throat so sore I couldn't swallow. It's now 8 and Harry is ready to leave for work. I nod, not wanting to use my voice. 

He shakes his head softly, nibbling at his lip as if he's still debating whether or not to go. 

"What if you have flu? or tonsilitis? That can be dangerous" He says, reaching a hand to my neck, touching my swollen glands tenderly, still enough to make me wince.

"You're only going to be gone a few hours.. I'm okay" I croak, sitting up a little to take his hand from my neck in order to lock my fingers between his. He's still looking at me intently, and then shakes his head. 

"I'm going to stay" He says decisively, shrugging off his suit jacket and discarding it on the floor, as well as his boots, leaving them on abandoned on the floor boards. He sits down on the sofa, signalling me to squash up as he lies next to me, he smells like his shower gel and his cheek is about as smooth as it gets post shave. 

"You really don't have to do this" I say, burying my face further into his neck with a small sigh. He runs his fingers through my hair which is probably much in need of a brush. 

"Oh? You want me to go?" He mumbles. 

"No" I squeak letting out a comfortable sigh. 

"You can change the channel if you want" I say, eyelids heavy. 

"It's fine, I love breakfast TV" He says, unbuttoning his white shirt to get more comfortable.

"Did you have anything important to do today" I ask. 

"Not at all, I can work a little here, rest your voice baby" He hushes me and I soon find myself drifting off to sleep once again, eager for anything to ease the nausea and prickly heat touching every part of my body. 

When I wake I feel no better, instead I'm shivery. I blink sleepily, squinting my eyes shut to avoid the influx of light, Harry is no longer tucked up beside me. I sit up, placing a hand on my sweat soaked back and recoiling it straight away, heaving myself up from the sofa with what seems like all the effort to my aching body. I grab the sofa throw that Harry must have turned into a blanket at some point his morning, wrapping it around my shoulders as I go in search of him. He's sat in the kitchen, at the island, mounds of paper with various figures all over it spread precariously around him where he sits at his mac, staring at an excel document intently. Wearing his glasses - which he does rarely for no lack of vanity.

He turns as soon as my bare feet hit the cold tiles. 

"Hey, you're awake, how are you feeling?" He looks up, tugging his glasses from his face quickly. I smile at how embarrassed he gets. 

"Not good" I grimace, running a hand across my stomach where the twins wiggling around is making me ever more nauseous.

"You're shivering, go back upstairs to bed, I'll bring you some paracetamol and water, and some food, if you're hungry? Are you hungry?" He fusses, I smile again, taking the few steps forward to reach him, letting him snake his arms around my waist, I rest my face in his shoulder in defeat. He's now changed into a soft t-shirt and slacks. 

"I feel awful" I simper into his neck, hot all of a sudden and discarding the blanket. 

"Hey you're alright, if you feel any worse later I'll call Doctor Carter, I don't want to take any risks" He says, kissing the side off my cheek, his lips feeling cold in comparison. 

"Come on, go upstairs to bed and I'll make you some tea" He says. I do as I'm told, walking upstairs to bed dizzily, only to find he's made it neatly, I crawl in, panting a bit from the exertion. Harry returns not long later, holding two mugs, a cup of water, a box of paracetamol and a box of tissues in his large hands. 

"This will sort you out" He says, handing me two capsules and the mug of tea. He hurries to put the rest of the stuff down before letting out an almighty sneeze. I eye him warily. 

"If I get sick, I know whose fault it is" He matches my look, climbing into bed beside me.