A/N: Another requested preference, yay!! I tried to be creative and a little funny with this one. I didn’t want them all to be headaches or vomiting or something, so I hope you enjoy! The request was the boys getting sick while with your parents. Let me know how it is! xx
Liam: You weren’t going to lie, Liam didn’t look too hot. He was paler than usual and had a slower pace to his walk. You were going to visit your parents for a week before the two of you flew to the Maldives to celebrate your five year anniversary. It was your father’s birthday in a few days, so Liam agreed to visit with you. Except, hour by hour he looked worse and worse. You kept asking if he was okay but he wouldn’t fess up, saying that he was just still trying to catch up on his sleep from the tour they just ended a few days ago. You weren’t buying it, however, and just went along with it because you knew it was just going to turn into a big fight if you pushed him too hard. The second you drove up to your parents’ house, however, Liam finally caved. “(Y/N), I think I’m going to vomit,” he groaned as he hauled some suitcases up to the house. You were carrying as much as you could to take some of the weight off of Liam, but it wasn’t enough. Your mom and dad opened the front door to greet the two of you and that’s when Liam stumbled forward and made a horrible noise, spewing this morning’s breakfast in front of your parents and narrowly missing their feet. You watched in horror and amazement, not knowing that this sort of thing could happen. Your parents looked absolutely shocked and it was like time stood still. Liam had managed to stand upright again, looking just as surprised as the rest of you. “Uh…” was all you could muster. Liam looked to you, eyes wide. “I feel so much better now,” he admitted, rubbing his tummy. “Damn that Chipotle burrito I had for breakfast.”
Zayn: A trip back home was not the best idea for a trip that you could imagine. You’d been planning a lovely getaway with Zayn now that he was back from tour, but your parents had other ideas. Your second cousin from some distant relative was getting married and the bride was going to be visiting your parents’ house to get ready because apparently her mom and your mom were super close. That was most likely a lie considering you’d never heard of these people before. Your attendance was required, however, and you found it obvious that you’d be dragging Zayn into this boring mess as well. Weddings weren’t your thing to begin with, especially if you didn’t know anyone in the actual wedding. And as soon as you stepped into your house, you knew you were in for a big thrill of disappointment. Zayn walked in with you late into that evening, the day before the actual wedding, and both of you grimaced at all the makeup kits and dresses laying around. There was too much estrogen. Pink everything was the theme, apparently. Your parents welcomed you hurriedly and you could see that they were multitasking to the extreme. “I hope you enjoyed your flight, dears,” your mother mumbled, patting your head and squeezing Zayn’s shoulder. Zayn looked a little dizzy, but you also felt overwhelmed at all of this. You had a quick dinner and said hello to the bride, who then began to inappropriately flirt with your boyfriend despite her wedding being tomorrow. As your parents began listing tasks for you and Zayn to do early tomorrow morning, you saw Zayn begin to sway out of the corner of your eye. He was carrying a large wreath of flowers, having been ordered by the maid of honor to set it in the kitchen for now. In a swift motion he fell flat on his face while your mother named off another thing to do before the wedding started and if it hadn’t been for the puff of flower petals that flew into the air as he landed on the wreath, you were sure your parents wouldn’t even have noticed. “Zayn!” your mother cried and in an instant, everyone was there with him. “I don’t feel so good,” he mumbled, grabbing your hand. “Can (Y/N) and I take some time to relax?” The permission was granted and you were the one to pull Zayn into your old bedroom where your things were packed. “You’re faking, aren’t you?” you smirked. As soon as the coast was clear, Zayn gave you a wicked grin. “I’m going to fake sick until the wedding’s over,” he informed you. “And you’re going to take care of me. Besides, I’m not completely faking it. All the pastel pinks have made me dizzy and even slightly nauseous. I contemplated blowing chunks on the bride.”
Louis: No question about it, Louis was exhausted. Even so, he agreed to come with you to have dinner with your parents to catch up on some things. You had let them know of the situation beforehand but Louis insisted that he was fine and this was a piece of cake. “I could go days without sleeping while on tour, this is nothing,” he tried to say, but it sounded more like a slur of words. You just sighed and decided to let him win this one, because you knew that in the end, you would be right. Louis had been smart enough to let you drive to your parents’ home and was even coaxed into taking a little nap. He was awake as soon as the car stopped, however, and you couldn’t get him to try and sleep before dinner was ready. “I’m not rude,” he kept saying. Your father took Louis into the living room to watch some TV while you helped your mom set the table, chatting about work and friends. “He looks dead on his feet,” your mother commented, nodding towards a dull-looking Louis that sat with your father, eyes only half-open. “Dinner’s ready!” you called, watching Louis’ head snap back up before he could fall asleep. Everyone came to the table, ready to eat, and your father took the initiative in the conversation. “So, Louis, how are things in the industry?” he asked your boyfriend, who looked like he was having some trouble with cutting his pork chop. “Iss fine, we are sooo essited for albm lease,” was what you could make out, and just like that, Louis’ head collided with his dinner, and he was out cold. Everyone stared at him for a second, panic overcoming the atmosphere, but as soon as muffled snores came out, you knew everything was fine. “Should we leave him like that?” your mother asked, and you shrugged. “Yeah, maybe it’ll help keep his dinner warm,” you said casually, grateful that he was at least getting sleep somehow.
Harry: Sometimes Harry forgot he had allergies. Specifically, food allergies. He never wanted to be rude and deny a meal, so he’d eat anything even if it meant getting hives or having his tongue swell up. In this case, it was with your father’s pastries. He’d come by your flat with your mother to drop by some of his own homemade cookies since your aunt had been teaching him how to bake for months now. Apparently, this was his first real batch that hadn’t come out awfully, so he wanted to brag to you firsthand and watch you try one. “Dad, these are actually great,” you praised, eyebrows raised in shock. Your dad was a husky guy that just didn’t look like the baking kind of person. There are people that look like bakers and there are those who just can’t cut it. Harry was eager to jump into the pile of cookies on the counter, having just got off a phone call with a manager. “Let me try!” he protested, popping an entire cookie into his mouth. “Harry, I think you might be allergic to some of the ingredients…” you started, but it was already too late. “Whoa, did you put marijuana in these?” Harry asked your dad, who looked queasy. Your parents definitely knew about Harry’s tendency to eat everything that was handed to him and had had their fair share of allergy disasters. Judging from your father’s expression, Harry was definitely allergic to some of the ingredients. “I feel so dizzy,” Harry went on, leaning on the counter. “There’s got to be pot in these. I’m getting dizzier because of it. Or maybe it’s because I can’t breathe.” You watched in bewilderment as Harry ate another cookie, a big smile on his face. “I don’t even care that I’m allergic to these,” he continued, “Good job on the baking skills, sir. Sorry if I pass out.” “Harry, I think you’re getting hives.”
Niall: Your nephew was covered in red spots and he was always on the verge of itching them. You’d gone to visit your parents and nephew while his parents were out getting more medication for them. You felt so bad for the little guy because he was definitely irritated. All these itchy spots and he couldn’t scratch them? How unfair. You had run him a bath, put ointment on his chicken pox, but he was still throwing a fit. Your parents were also trying to find home remedies on the internet, but your dad still didn’t know what the internet even was, and your mom was using Bing. Niall looked a little helpless and even a little scared, but you tried to convince him that everything was okay. “Chicken pox are nothing, Ni,” you assured him. “I know it looks scary. We’re just going to stay the night to help out in case he wakes up irritated, but we’ll leave first thing in the morning. Okay?” Niall nodded softly but he still looked panicky. “It’s not that I think he’s going to die,” he admitted, “I’ve just…never had the chicken pox before and I think I’m itchy.” You merely rolled your eyes, stating, “That’s impossible, Niall. We’ve only been here for a few hours. You can’t get symptoms that quickly.” Niall relented, making a show of scratching himself periodically and groaning about “flu-like symptoms.” You finally called your sister, who was a nurse, and asked her about it. “Niall doesn’t have the chicken pox,” she snorted. “He’s most likely immune to the virus if he didn’t get it when he was a kid. He probably caught the flu from Dad. He’s still contagious and I’m sure he and Niall have been refusing to help out with my son because they’re afraid they’ll catch the virus.” As if on cue, Niall came to you with a worried look on his face, hand on his tummy. “I have the chicken pox,” he repeated, but you shook your head. “You have the flu, courtesy of my dad,” you explained, giving your dad a look. “Good luck,” your father cackled, which then turned into a hacking cough. “You’re going to experience a violent case of the runs, son.” And that he did.