Take Me Home

Chapter Thirty-Four

Liam had to cover some hours at a group home a while away for a few days a couple of weeks later.

That meant that Zayn, who was a hands-on guy but had never really had to take care of the kids alone and without Liam to guide him, had to take on his role of stay at home father for those few days.

Liam had to leave early for work in the morning and didn't come back until late at night, once the boys were already in bed.

Day one had been just fine, Zayn thought. The youngest boys had been at school. Louis had football practice afterwards and even though he wasn't quite up to running around on his ankle yet, he had wanted to go to show his commitment - something Zayn had found quite mature for a seven year old; then again he never expected anything less of Louis.

Harry was off school sick, he had been feeling a little under the weather for a few days but he definitely had a slight temperature and he wasn't feeling up to leaving the couch, so Zayn hadn't forced him to go in.

Overall, it had been a successful day and he was quite proud of his parenting skills. However, he had a feeling that thinking that was going to jinx his luck.

The boys were slow to wake up the next morning. He was used to Niall chatting his head off and Louis watching the TV whilst Harry did his homework last minute at the breakfast table.

Today, however, Harry was sprawled out on the couch with the TV on in his PJs and the other two boys were still upstairs.

He smiled at the thirteen year old as he entered the room, wincing in sympathy when he saw the pale skin and bagged eyes.

"Hey, bud. Not feeling any better?" he asked, softly as he knelt beside the couch and ran a hand through the boy's curls.

Harry gave a small shake of his head. "My head aches," he mumbled, and Zayn let out a small sigh, resting his hand on his forehead. It was warm, but not quite fever warm.

"Try getting some more sleep...do you want breakfast?" he asked, and Harry chewed his bottom lip and shook his head again.

"No thanks."

Zayn smiled at him. "Alright. If it gets any worse, I'll get you some more paracetamol. Okay?"

Harry looked up at him with glossy looking eyes, looking younger than his age when he was so ill and tired. "'Kay," he mumbled, eyes fluttering shut.

Zayn looked at the kid for a moment, remembering the seven year old boy he had first laid eyes on in that hospital and wondering how time had passed so quickly. He couldn't believe that he was a father to the kid now, it was unreal.

He leaned forward and kissed his clammy forehead softly, hoping he'd feel better when he woke up because he hated to see any of his kids sick. He sighed when he stood up, not used to the silence when he made his way to the kitchen.

He could hear soft footfalls upstairs, so he knew the little ones were slowly getting up.

He stopped when he reached the kitchen, because this was when he really missed Liam. He could cook, sure, but that was more of a once in a while sort of gig. He didn't like knowing he had to do it everyday - and he was only really capable of bacon and eggs and they were all out of that. The bread was running low too, and they only had chocolate cereal and he knew that Niall didn't like the stuff.

He decided that although he hadn't done a bad job so far, he missed Liam a great deal. His company, not just how good he was at managing things.

Before he could think on things for too long, he heard a soft voice from the kitchen door and saw Louis, standing with his pajamas still on, hand pressed to his stomach.