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Louis hides it when he's ill. Niall reckons they all do a bit, hoping if they ignore it it'll go away on its own, but Louis is the worst for it. Niall wraps an arm around his shoulders on the sofa and tries to pull him into a hug, but Louis goes stiff in his arms and frowns. "I'm fine," he says hoarsely.
"If you were fine, you wouldn't get all prickly when I want a cuddle," Niall replies, and Louis's frown turns sheepish instead of defensive. He leans back against Niall's chest, and his skin is hot through his t-shirt. Too hot, like whatever’s he’s got is trying to burn its way out of his chest.
Niall curls into the corner of the sofa, pulling Louis with him until Louis's halfway in his lap. Louis turns his face into Niall's neck, nuzzling there, coughing into his curled hand. Louis takes up so much space in the world that it's easy to forget that he can be small like this, quiet and pliable and too warm, curling into Niall with a rough sigh.
Niall kisses the top of his head, settles his arms around Louis's waist. "Might still be contagious," Louis says belatedly. He shivers, tenses but can't quite hide it. Niall grabs for a blanket from further down the sofa, settles it around his shoulders.
"Been sharing your water bottle for weeks, mate," says Niall. "I'm a lost cause."
"Sorry," says Louis. He doesn't sound sorry though, he just sounds tired.
"You're alright," Niall assures him. "Want a brew or something?"
Louis shakes his head, gives another pathetic little cough. "You'd have to get up."
"That'd be bad, yeah," Niall agrees. He rubs at the back of Louis’s neck, up around the base of his skull, stroking at his soft, sweaty hair.
After a few minutes of this, Louis falls asleep, snoring softly against Niall’s collarbone. Niall shifts against the corner of the sofa, rests his lips against Louis’s damp forehead. They work so hard, so constantly, and Niall loves it and is grateful for it every day, but seeing Louis like this, he’s glad they’re coming up to a few days off. And he wishes he could do more to help.
Then Louis tips his head back against Niall’s shoulder and sets off a coughing fit, throwing an arm across his face as his shoulders hunch and his face goes tight. Niall rests a hand on Louis’s hip, giving him space until it passes, listening to the hitch of his breath in his chest. “Fuck,” says Louis softly.
“Do you want to lie down?” Niall asks.
“No,” Louis says. “Just makes it worse.” He shifts in Niall’s lap until his knees are bracketing Niall’s hips, leans his forehead on Niall’s shoulder. Niall settles the blanket around him again, like a cape over his shoulders.
“There,” says Niall. “Just like a superhero.”
Louis manages a weak grin. “Pretty shit superhero.”
“Never,” says Niall. “Best superhero. Always.”
Louis bumps his nose against Niall’s. “Giving me too much credit as usual.”
Niall kisses the corner of his mouth without really thinking about it. “Always were the best of us, Tommo.”
Louis’s quiet for a second. “Did you kiss me, or is my fever getting higher?” he asks.
Niall leans back. “Sorry.” He wonders if he’s getting sick too, his heartbeat kicking up and his palms going sweaty. He wasn’t ever going to do that, not in real life, not while he was sober anyway. Even though he’s wanted to for years now, and probably everyone except Louis knows it.
“You shouldn’t,” says Louis, running his hand down Niall’s arm and folding their fingers together, looking at Niall’s mouth.
“Yeah,” Niall agrees. “I know.” He’s been all right with not kissing Louis for this long, and he will be again.
“I’m sick,” adds Louis, but he’s leaning in close again, nudging his nose against Niall’s cheek, and their lips are a breath apart. “Maybe contagious.” And Niall realizes that Louis isn’t telling him off for kissing him, just telling him off for kissing him while he’s sick.
“Don’t care,” Niall says, tipping his face up until their lips meet and Louis can kiss him properly. His lips are dry against Niall’s, and he tastes like cough drops, tangy with menthol, but that’s all right. Their mouths match up, part softly, and Niall’s not sure he’s ever been kissed so gently, but he likes it, the pull of Louis’s teeth and the slow slide of his tongue. It’s everything he hoped for, in the rare moments when he let himself hope. Then Louis makes a little noise and presses closer, until Niall’s head is resting on the back of the sofa, Louis leaning over him to kiss him more deeply.
Niall takes a moment to breathe when Louis pulls to the side, muffling another hacking cough into his hand. He looks worn out after, and Niall runs his thumb along the thin, shadowed skin below Louis’s eye, his eyelashes fluttering as Niall strokes his cheekbone, tickles back into his hair. “Can we do that again once you’re well?” Niall asks, resting their foreheads together.
He can feel Louis’s smile more than see it. “I’d be gutted if we didn’t. I’ve probably given you my cold though. Could be a while.”
Niall shrugs. “’S’alright. Go on and give me your cold some more then.”
The next kiss is slow and easy and doesn’t stop until Zayn comes into the lounge, throws a balled-up sock at Niall’s head, and says, “Fucking finally.”
“Fucking finally,” Louis agrees, grinning against Niall’s parted lips.
When Niall wakes up with glands the size of snooker balls a few days later, it’s completely worth it.