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"And if something doesn't work out at first, don't panic," Harry advises, putting the last box on the floor of the still-sparse dorm room.
"Yeah, you can always just quit and become a singer. It worked for us. Who needs higher education anyway?" Louis adds. He'd graciously allowed Harry to do the heavy lifting, so all he can do now to occupy himself is twiddle his thumbs. He's nervous.
"Dad, come on, you know I can't sing," Alison says, not even looking up from the pamphlet she was handed as soon as they set foot on campus.
"That's just not true," Louis claims immediately, even though it kind of is. Since most of her extended family was in a boy band and her older brother is currently making a name for himself in LA, Harry and Louis didn't want Alison to feel left out, so they've tried to keep her own tone-deafness from her. He's secretly glad she chose to become a brilliant scientist rather than a singer. Very secretly.
"Whatever." She finally drops the pamphlet and looks at her three boxes. She then looks up at Harry. "Is that all?"
Harry hums, like he doesn't know that that is, indeed, all. He's nervous too, hands twitching by his sides until Louis cups them between his. He's staring at the ground hard, but he does squeeze Louis' fingers gratefully.
They should go. They should have gone as soon as they dropped her off, but Harry insisted on getting the boxes out to "feel helpful" after throwing out his back a few months ago, and then Louis insisted on looking around campus to check for predators, and now it's almost lunchtime and Alison should probably go socialise or whatever it is people do at uni.
Louis has no idea, actually. When they tried to give her advice they were basically parroting their sisters. At least with Alison they could remind her how well Sammy, their eldest, did at LBS. On Sammy's first day they were absolutely clueless. And he had to shove them out of his dorm room while they fell apart.
Alison doesn't seem nervous, though. She's already met her roommate, and her best friend from Sixth Form goes here. She's just such a great independent kid and she's all grown up but she's only eighteen and Louis wants to disguise himself as her roommate just to make sure she's alright for a little bit longer.
It doesn't sound that extreme. He's always been the one most likely to cling desperately to his youth and not age gracefully. Harry tries to make it better by kissing each new wrinkle and telling him how sexy his grey hairs are, but Harry will probably still be boyish and hot when he's sixty-five, so Louis takes it with a grain of salt.
Nothing could comfort him now, though, with his baby – his last baby, his babiest baby and only girl – being sent off to university. He feels hopelessly old and nostalgic and terrified for her. But he knows he has to let her go. She's already the posh girl with the billion-pound trust fund and two famous dads, she doesn't need to be the girl who had to call campus security to drag her crying parents away. (At least that's what Sammy said when he texted them pre-emptively this morning. don't embarrass her!!! she'll be fine!!! she'll be more popular and rich than all of us!!! stop panicking!!! Not that he wasn't panicking; if there's anyone more protective of Alison than Harry and Louis, it's Sammy. And maybe Zayn.)
"I think that's it," Harry finally says, voice even deeper than usual when threaded with barely-concealed sadness.
"Alright then!" Louis says loudly, untangling their hands so he can clap them. "Give us a cuddle!"
Alison looks at him with horror, like she used to when they made her eat her veggies or clean up after herself. "Dad," she pleads.
He cocks his hip. "What, are you too cool for hugs now? This uni business has truly changed her, Harold," he says, turning to Harry, who nods gravely.
"All she cares about is not partying and never dating anyone ever and studying now. She's too responsible."
Alison rolls her eyes, too used to them being idiots. She has almost nineteen years of experience. "I'm just afraid that if you hug me now you won't let me go and it'll be super awkward."
Which is entirely valid. But Louis still frowns.
"Fine," she sighs. "You can call me the thing."
Louis' face splits in a grin. "Baby Li," he coos, and fuck everything, Harry and he swoop in and give her a giddy dad sandwich.
Liam's the only one still allowed to call her Baby Li, and that's just because he's the one who started the whole thing when she was two years old and Harry kept calling her Li and making Liam turn around in confusion. I'm not a baby, she raged when she was ten, and Liam just looked at her helplessly and said, "I know that, but if I just call you Li they'll know I'm the real Baby Li and I'll be very embarrassed."
So he has special privileges to baby her. Liam always got special privileges from her, though, more than with the boys. Niall said it was because he was a chick magnet. Harry actually gave him a black eye. They don't talk about it anymore.
"I love you so much, Shortcake," Harry whispers, kissing all over her face, much to her yelping.
"I know, oh my god dad let me go." She's thumping on their chests, but she sounds suspiciously choked up.
Louis strokes her hair and hugs her tighter. "You know we're here for you no matter what, yeah?"
"Yeah, yeah, always be my baby, you and I forever, I heard it all. But I do care what people say when we're together."
Louis sighs dramatically and slumps against Harry's chest. "Twisting our own words and using them against us. We should embarrass her just for that."
Harry flaps his hands in the universal sign of an oncoming tickle attack. Alison gives them both the universal look of a daughter about to stuff them in a home and take all their money. So Louis shushes Harry and buries his hand in Harry's back pocket. (It took them twenty years, but they've finally managed to convince him he can't rock skinny jeans anymore. The rest of his wardrobe hasn't changed much over the years, though. Louis takes pride in fucking him on YSL coats just as hard as he used to in their twenties. Maybe not as often, or as long and athletically, but they haven't lost their spark. They'll probably be having gross old people sex when they're gross old people grossly in love). "Come on, babe. Let's go back to our huge empty house."
Harry sighs. "Fine. You set up the hidden cameras while she wasn't looking, yeah?"
"Of course. Zayn put up the banners with the baby pictures, too."
Alison rolls her eyes aggressively. She takes after Louis too much. He honestly hopes she won't be too much of a troublemaker here. She stands up on her tip-toes and grabs their chins to kiss them both on the cheeks. "Dad, Dad, I love you a lot. I'll be home before you know it, yeah?"
Yeah, in theory. But not really. She's chosen quite a path for herself. Louis has no idea what even gave her the idea to become a marine biologist. He should have taken away her stuffed penguin when she was little. Maybe then she would have wanted to become a run-of-the-mill stay-at-home daughter and under their supervision forever.
He looks up cautiously and sees Harry already fighting back tears. He's rubbing his right forearm, where he'd tattooed Alison's birthdate. No way, they won't break down here. They've got a perfectly good – empty house – oh god, Louis' getting choked up too. They have to go. "Yeah, of course. You're such a star, don't even think about us," he says, very bravely, and ruffles her hair. She lets him get away with it.
From that point it takes them half an hour to find themselves in the backseat of the car all alone. Louis doesn't even consider that they're too old for this, as they came to the university knowing they would end up right here. It's specifically the reason they brought the Range Rover. Louis' cuddling a box of tissues while cuddled against Harry's chest. Harry's leaning on a pillow propped against the door. They've come prepared.
"Is it too late to reclaim her?" he asks, voice mostly muffled by Harry's arm, tucked under his chin comfortingly. Even when he'll be eighty years old, Louis would probably still feel small and safe in Harry's embrace. Just a fact of life.
"Might be," Harry says into his hair. "Maybe we could reclaim one of the other ones, though."
"Yeah, what's the name of the one who ran off? Dean? Dave?"
Harry chuckles wetly. "We'll be alright. If we survived Danny moving to the states with his girlfriend and his band, we can take Ali going to school in London. Right?"
"Probably. D'you know D called Niall last night after he Skyped with us?"
"No. Why?" Harry asks, twisting so Louis can see a bit of his face. He passes a tissue back wordlessly.
"Something very unfounded about some empty nest syndrome and worrying about his crazy overbearing dads."
"Oh." His arms tighten around Louis' middle, and Louis sags against him. "That's a bit over the top. We're totally coping. We're not even mama birds."
Louis' throat dries. "I liked it when she called me Papa," he whispers. Before Harry says anything Louis adds, "I know it's been like, five years, but I don't like the double dad stuff. It's confusing."
"I know," Harry says helpfully, stroking Louis' chest in a soothing way. It's what he says every time Louis bitches about it.
The Papa thing started before Sammy was even born, when they were trying to figure out how to clear up the name dilemma. They knew that to get the baby used to it Harry would have to call Louis whatever name they chose around the house, which tipped the scales against daddy. Harry calls Louis Daddy under extremely specific circumstances, never to be brought up in front of their children.
But then Sammy grew up and Daddy and Papa became too "juvenile", so he started calling them Dad One and Dad Two, like they were robots. That lasted barely three days because Louis and Harry retaliated by calling Daniel and Sammy Child One and Child Two respectively. So eventually Sammy settled for Dad Haz and Dad Lou. Daniel, a toddler who worshipped his older brother at the time (and still, sort of), called them Daddy Haz and Daddy Lou, much to their dismay.
When Alison was born Louis pounced at the opportunity to reclaim his Papa title, and it blessedly worked until she was fifteen and started calling them both dad. He's still bitter about it, and the only person he can complain to is Harry. After he complained to Niall and got yelled at, "You think we have it so fucking easy? Last week Sean straight up called me a loser butt. I'd take Not Mummy any day."
He suddenly registers that Harry's rambling quietly behind him. "If we got another one she wouldn't be influenced at all by her brothers and sister. Forget Daddy and Papa, we could get her to call us Posh and Becks, for all she'd know. We could only talk in American accents and she'd pick it up. We could make up a language and it'd be her native tongue. She could speak Tomlinson."
"H, we're not getting a baby just to teach her a made-up language."
Harry huffs. "It's not the worst idea."
Right on cue, Louis' phone vibrates. He fishes it out to open a text from Gemma: Is shortcake alright? p.s no more babies!!
He laughs, causing Harry to frown harder. "That's not fair, she's got four of them."
"Well, your mum – " He cuts himself off.
A thought strikes him. He drops the tissues to the floor and sits up, shuffles a bit so he's facing Harry between his legs.
Harry's eyes are a bit red and his cheeks are blotchy and his not-so-full hair is flopping over his forehead ridiculously. He's the picture of inconsolable mama bird, so Louis ducks in to kiss him first. Harry's hands slot behind his back immediately, and he smiles into the kiss, sighing a little. At least there's one thing that'll never change. Their babies might have left the nest and Louis' hair might be turning grey and Harry's back might never be the same and it might take them a while to get it up, but kissing Harry will take his breath away even when he'll have his own oxygen tank.
He nuzzles Harry's cheek for a moment, knows he likes the feel of his beard against his skin, grey or not. "Hey, H," he whispers. "You know, Sam and Karen have been married for a few months now."
Harry's hands tighten on Louis' hips and he pulls his head back to beam at Louis like he's just offered him sunshine on a stick. "Grandbabies."
"Exactly." Louis' a genius, really.
"And we could get them new clothes and spoil them rotten and tickle their cute feetsies. Do you remember how fun babies are?"
Louis' more of a toddler fan, but he'll give that much to Harry – babies can be fun. "With any luck he'll have twins and then we could just take one when he's not looking."
Harry's eyes are shining. "Could we finally name her Darcy?"
"Not really sure that's up to us." At Harry's pout Louis adds quickly, "But she'll name you Granddaddy Haz."
Harry makes an undignified happy noise and buries his face in Louis' neck. "I love that, oh my god, we'll be the kooky granddads with the best stories and we'll babysit all the time and buy them clothes and toys and cute pricey baby clothes. And then Sammy will have to make time for us again. It's a win-win for Team Dads."
"It'll be brilliant. I'm brilliant."
"I love you so much," Harry says into his shoulder, giggling. "You'll be such a cool grandpa. Grandpapa."
Louis groans at the thought. "I'm not old enough for that."
"Shut up, Peter Pan. We're gonna have a huge family and we'll do the holidays at ours instead of our mums', can you imagine? We're gonna be – " He's cut off by Louis kissing him again.
"One baby at a time, yeah?"
Harry huffs. "Fine. But I am setting up brunch with Karen next week."
Louis suddenly remembers Harry thirty years ago, hounding Louis for a baby. He'd literally plant Anne's baby stuff around the house for Louis to find. He'd bring it up in interviews and give Louis pointed looks. He'd steal Adam and Liv, Jay's youngest set, for spontaneous babysitting sessions without even warning Louis. He'd buy daddy and baby clothes passive-aggressively.
Karen doesn't stand a chance against a broody Harry Tomlinson.
When they finally reach home, they find Niall, Liam and Zayn watching telly in their living room. There are streamers and balloons everywhere. It's not exactly a surprise, since Dan can't keep a secret to save his life and told Louis all about Niall's scheme, but it's pleasant nonetheless.
As soon as Louis and Harry poke their heads into the living room, the three of them stagger off the couch and tackle them in massive hugs.
"Are those Happy Birthday banners?" Harry asks, looking around the decorated room with a huge smile. He might also have a huge lovebite on his Adam's apple. No one even bothers to comment on it.
"Well, they didn't exactly have banners with 'your youngest child left for uni so we planned a cry party but Liam's flight got delayed so the decorations are a bit shit but there's lots of booze and we got you some new sex toys since you finally have the house to yourselves again'," Niall explains, caught somewhere between Zayn's armpit and Louis' shoulder.
"Excuse you, I wasn't in charge of the decorations," Liam claims.
"But you were in charge of putting Zayn in charge of the decorations."
"Hey, it's perfect," Louis decides, silencing them all. It's been thirty one years and still all any of them really wants is to please Louis. It's given him very unrealistic expectations for parenting, but whatever. At least Niall Horan will never leave him to become a bloody marine biologist. "You got ice cream, yeah?"
"Of course," Zayn scoffs, like he's offended by the implication that he'd forgotten the key ingredient to any cry party.
It's not a particularly healthy or mature tradition, but a forever ago they all pledged to get together missus-free after any big family event, like Danny's wedding or Niall's eldest's Christening or Zayn's girl's first day of school. They don't always cry (well, Niall does, and then he makes Harry and Zayn sympathy-cry too), but they always cuddle and eat ice cream.
Maybe that's another thing that will never change. In twenty years they'll probably all be in a home together, still blasting classic One Direction and being alienated by their Prime Minister President Astronaut children.
"How are you holding up, then?" Zayn asks him quietly, hand sneaking up to ruffle Louis' hair.
"It still hasn't hit me," he answers honestly. "And I think I fucked up."
Just then Harry starts telling Niall excitedly about all the shopping they'll have to do for their ten not-yet-existing grandkids. Zayn bursts out laughing. "Mate, you fucked up."
Louis pokes him, probably getting Liam instead, but he thinks the sentiment's been delivered. "Whatever. You'll be Granduncle Za-Za."
"And you'll be a total GILF."
Louis brightens. "Yeah?"
"'Course. You already got the silver fox thing down."
Louis kisses Zayn's forehead. "Forget Ali. You're my favourite member of this family."
"Hey," Liam grumbles. Louis kisses his shoulder and Liam smacks his nose.
Louis totally ignores that and tugs on Harry's shirt. "Hear that, Hazza? You've gone and bagged yourself a GILF."
Harry's answering smile is threatening to break his face. "Speaking of, what's this I heard about new sex toys? Please tell me Niall didn't pick them out again."
"Oi, you asked for 'bondage stuff', you couldn't have been more vague if you tried. How was I supposed to know you had preferences when it came to types of rope? Who has?"
"I picked them, but let's start with the ice cream, maybe?" Zayn suggests, untangling himself from the pile to grab the Ben & Jerry's and the remote.
They all settle down in front of the telly, squeezed together on the same undersized couch with the cat, as per usual. Louis sighs contentedly; his back against Harry's chest, his legs tangled with Niall's, one hand in Zayn's hair and the other stuffed under Liam's thigh from when Liam had angrily tried to keep him from choosing the movie. It's where they all belong.
And Louis figures their nest will never be empty, not really.
END