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Louis woke up because Harry's arm was slung across his face, making it pretty difficult to keep on breathing.
"G'roff, babe," he mumbled into the crook of Harry's elbow. Harry utterly and completely ignored him.
Louis sleepily lifted his own arms to push Harry's bodily away from his face, onto his stomach.
Harry murmured something that sounded a lot like Louis' name, and his eyelashes fluttered adorably. Louis patted him on his hip absently, eyes closed and falling back to sleep.
He'd been sure Harry was, too, until Harry's hand started drifting to his waist, fingers skirting under the waistband of his joggers.
Louis blinked his eyes open again, and smiled up at the ceiling. "Morning, Harry," he said.
Harry's thumb brushed over the soft skin just-- above. "G'morning, Lou," he told Louis, voice smiling and sleep-scarred. He had Louis in his hand now. It was warm, it was wonderful. Louis had had eleven years to build up an immune system for how much his body so ridiculously quickly responded to Harry. It would probably take him a hundred and eleven more.
"C'mon, babe," Louis said, already breathless from Harry's irritatingly slow, lazy strokes, "don't tease, I--"
Harry chuckled, small, and pulled his hand out of Louis' pants. Louis was about to scream, and then Harry was getting up, in one sudden not very sleepy movement, shifting over until he was between Louis' legs and then he was pulling Louis' waistband down.
Louis didn't have time for anything but a breathed out, "Yeah," before Harry took him in his mouth, took him all down before pulling off abruptly and running his tongue over the slit. He smirked up at Louis wickedly, and swallowed slow this time, once, twice, and--
The door clicked open, and Adam stood in the doorway, his purple blankie trailing behind him.
"Daddy, Papa, I blueberries for breakfast, you said I cou-- Papa? What you doing there?"
Louis had managed to drag a blanket over Harry and the lower half of his torso, but five year olds weren't stupid.
"Um," said Louis, "Papa's just. He lost something."
Harry peeked his head out from the blanket. "Bud, what did we say about knocking?"
Adam rolled his eyes like he was fifteen. "That I should."
"That's right," Louis said. "Go on down first, Addie, we'll be right there."
"Okay," Adam said suspiciously, but he turned, thumb briefly taken out of mouth to say, "Daddy, you should hurry, Ren's putting blueberries in the blender."
Harry rested his head on Louis' tummy, laughing quietly. "What did I lose, then, boo?" he asked.
"Shut it," Louis said, tangling his fingers into Harry's hair. "Says the guy who told Ren lube was hair gel."
"I panicked," protested Harry, rubbing his nose against Louis' skin. That felt-- really nice, actually. Really good, and Louis was just starting to pull on Harry's hair a bit, like yeah, babe, c'mon--
when Ren shouted: "Daddies the blender won't move!" and Zo started bawling from the kitchen and Louis really, really hoped the two events weren't connected.
Harry huffed, patting Louis on the hip and rolling over to his own side again. "Let's go, Daddy."
"Eh," Louis said, kicking off the blanket. "You owe me. Don't think I'll forget."
"You'd never," Harry assured him, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth and standing. "I'll get the kids, babe. You shower."
"I don't want a shower, I want a blowjob," Louis informed him.
Harry winked and left the room. Arse. Louis wasn't sure why he'd married him.
By the time he came down, Harry'd managed to get Zoey in her chair and preoccupied with Baboy, her yellow dinosaur. Ren was sitting at the table, obviously in some sort of disgrace, even if Harry couldn't administer proper punishment to the kids if it killed him. Adam was across from her, looking stricken. He worshipped his sister. Louis was forcefully reminded of a young Harry and Gemma on a daily basis.
"Hello, family," he said, bending down to kiss the top of Zoey's soft apple-scented head. "Why the long faces?"
"Ren, tell Papa what you did," Harry said, throwing a pointed look at their daughter from where he was cooking pancakes on the stove.
Ren let out a long suffering sigh. "I stucked the blender."
"Aw, bud," Louis said. "That's not good."
"But I didn't mean to!" she exclaimed. "You said we could have blueberry pancakes and you were sleeping so I didn't wanna wake you so I put them in so they'd come out soft so we could mix them with the pancakes. Blenders make things soft."
She stuck out her lower lip, obviously feeling terribly wrong.
"Well, that is true," Louis said.
"Louis!"
Harry pointed the fork at him. So okay, they were both terrible at punishment. But sometimes Harry tried to be less terrible, and sometimes Louis did, and their kids hadn't grown up to be completely spoiled yet. It was a marriage of teamwork, that's what it was.
It didn't mean Ren didn't have them wrapped around her little finger.
"I was only trying to help," she pouted, looking like the world was a mess of injustice and pain. "You guys wanted to sleep, so I thought I'd make breakfast..."
"Nice try, Rennie," Harry said. "You know you aren't supposed to use Lucy without us. She was old and clattery, but she worked, and now I'll have to spend at least an hour today getting her out of her sulk."
Harry turned back to the stove. Louis, Ren, Adam and Zoey exchanged glances.
"Grssdd," Zoey said, waving Baboy in the air.
"Too right, darling," Louis agreed, spooning some mushed up orange stuff into her mouth.
"I heard that!" said Harry.
"We didn't say anything, babe," Louis assured him. He inconspicuously slid a blueberry pancake over to Ren. Terrible at punishment, yeah.
"I saw that," sighed Harry, turning around.
"I'm sorry, Papa," Ren apologized, and that was their daughter all right: big soulful eyes like Harry, slightest tremor in her voice like Louis had perfected from a young age. Louis knew what she was doing, and Harry obviously knew as well, after eleven years of Louis, but it didn't stop Harry from placing another pancake onto her plate.
Ren devoured it with enthusiasm. "Thank you, Daddy!" she remembered, halfway through the pancake.
Louis stifled a grin into his tea. "Don't speak with your mouth full, Ren. Next time you don't listen to us about stuff in the kitchen, you don't get tv for a week."
He met Harry's eyes over Zoey's head. Harry grinned back, backlit against the early morning sun. Marriage of teamwork, man.
"You've got that thing with Ed today, right?" Louis asked, wrestling Zoey into her tiny shoes. Zoey really didn't like shoes. She liked wriggling her tiny little toes about all the time. Harry cooed over her feet twenty four seven and called her a true Tomlinson, against all forms of footwear. He over exaggerated a lot. Louis wasn't that bad with socks. Jeez. He bet he'd never given his mum hell over shoes when he was a toddler. He made a mental note never to ask her.
"Yeah, I'll be back around an hour after the kids get back," said Harry, finishing up Adam's pineapple jam sandwich. "I'll still send them, though."
"Just one more foot, love," Louis said. Zoey giggled and kicked her feet obstinately. Harry said a lot how much like Louis she was. Louis was beginning to feel offended.
"You gonna work on that verse today?" asked Harry, placing the lunchboxes on the counter and leaning over to look at them. "The one that was giving you trouble?"
"Yeah, might," said Louis. "As soon as I can get this to-- yes! Success. Victory is mine, little hobgoblin." He bent down to give Zoey a kiss on her little nose. Zoey gurgled sadly.
"Did you just call our daughter a hobgoblin?" Harry enquired.
"Might've, babe," Louis said. "What're you gonna do about it?" He swayed over to Harry, standing just out of reach. Harry spread out his arms and hooked Louis' hips across the counter.
"So listen," Harry said, "I was thinking maybe later, we could--"
"Dad-dee!! We're going to be late!" Ren sounded very impatient, and very inclined to step out the front door without their supervision.
Louis smirked. "Her Majesty awaits you. Later," he promised, pushing at Harry's shoulders. "Love you, Harold. Have a great day, win some bread, milk the cows."
"Mmmh," Harry said sadly, being herded to the front door and still trying to paw at Louis' hips.
"Goodbye, my children," Louis said. He kneeled on the carpet, spread his arms all wide. He didn't like this part sometimes, when they left him, for, like, school and education and shit. God.
"Bye, Daddy," Ren said, rushing at him.
"Ooph." She was getting big. "Be good, bud."
"Bye, Daddy," said Adam, jumping. Louis picked him up and into his lap. He was definitely, definitely not used to Adam leaving him every day.
"Daddy, I'm five," Adam said plaintively, but he buried his face in Louis' shoulder anyway.
"We're gonna be late," sang Ren, skipping out the door.
"Baby, it's slippery," Harry said, pulling on his boots. Louis tilted his face up for a kiss before Harry left to chase their daughter. Adam wriggled free of Louis' hold and waved wildly as he followed his sister out.
"Hmph. Guess it's just you and me, Zo," Louis said, turning back into the kitchen.
Zoey laughed, a giggle that sounded a lot like Harry's delighted cheesy-joke one. She'd managed to kick off one baby boot. Louis picked her up out of the pram and nuzzled his face into her tummy.
"You are never ever leaving this house," he told her very seriously.
The rest of the morning was quiet, but nice. Louis didn't manage to finish up the verse that'd been troubling him, but the bridge was coming together nicely. Also, an episode of Kardashians to reward himself. Harry texted him at about ten, like Grasshoppers with teeth????? but herbivore............... to which Louis replied, what tf cows ha ve teeth, the kind of senseless conversation that was essentially HarryandLouis, eleven years strong.
"Okay, girl," he told Zoey after a glance at the clock, "let's go get your brother and sister." He bundled Zoey up into the car and they sang Beyoncé all the way there.
Adam finished first, so Louis waited at the gates until the bell rang.
The thing was, Adam was the only one of their kids with Harry's genes, and it was obvious in his curls, the way he dimpled slow and deep, delighted. He was quieter than Ren and looked up at her like she knew everything, less flaily than Zoey's manic excitableness-- already obvious from the age of one point five-- and looked after her like she was infinitely precious.
He was Louis' boy, and the Harry genes shone through the most at times when he would just seek Louis out, quiet and wide-eyed-- when he couldn't sleep, when that Richard kid had been bugging him about having two dads a few months back.
(Louis had raised noisy, destructive hell. Harry had raised a less fiery sort of steely-eyed well-placed-words hell. It worked; Adam had reported the apology and the subsequent non-bothering, which Louis kept tabs on with Adam's teacher. Teamwork.)
Adam rushed through the gates with his backpack bouncing on his back. "Papa!"
"Hi, kiddo," said Louis, ruffling his curls and taking his hand. "Hi, hi, hi. How was your day?"
"Awesome. We learned spelling names. I already know how to spell mine. Rennie taught me. So Mrs Aida gave me a gold star." He glowed.
"Good one, bud," Louis said. "Remember to thank your sister, yeah? Why don't you write your name for me and Papa later."
"Okay," said Adam, skipping by Louis' side. "Hi, Zo." He reached up to pull gently at Zoey's leg. Zoey reached down to scramble at his face happily.
Ren came out with a group of her friends. She seemed to be in an animated discussion about something or the other. Her shoelaces were untied and her braid, the one Harry'd painstakingly completed in the morning, was undone. Yeah, that was Louis' daughter, all right.
"Ren," Louis called after five minutes. Ren noticed him and waved a hurried bye to her friends, still insisting that "cows have eight stomachs, I'll ask my Daddy! Just you wait!"
"They have four," Louis told her, grinning.
"Really?" she asked, then decided, "eh, close enough."
"I'll show you when we get back," Louis promised. "Ice cream, guys?"
Ren and Adam stared at him like, why are you even asking.
"Homework first," Louis said, switching off the tv on the way to the kitchen.
Ren sighed deeply, then scrambled off to get her bag. Adam was already at the kitchen table, printing out his name slowly and carefully. He'd reached A-D-A-M J-A-M-E. Ran settled in beside him.
"Your S is upside down," she said, studying it thoughtfully. "I always get messed up too. C'mon, I'll show you."
By the time gravel crunching signified Harry pulling up in their driveway, Adam'd finished and pattered off to present it to him. Ren followed close behind, for the most part probably because she wanted to play in the slight dusting of frost covering their lawn again.
"Coat, Ren!" Louis called. She grabbed it and ran.
Fifteen minutes later, they trundled back inside, Harry still clutching the piece of paper that read in careful printed block letters: ADAM JAMES TOMLINSON. He was probably going to frame it next to their Billboard awards, or something. Louis didn't blame him.
"Hiya, gorgeous," he said, going over to Louis and kissing him ridiculous and deep and perfect like he hadn't seen him in years. Ren and Adam groaned.
"Watch it," Harry grinned.
"You watch it!" said Ren. "There are children in this house!"
"Where d'you learn these things, young lady?" asked Louis, shaking his head.
"Is that so?" Harry enquired. "Well, I might have to remove them from our presence, then." He went over and picked her up from her stool, slinging her over his back. She squealed in delight as he strode from the room. She was getting so big, Louis felt quite cheated. He'd signed up for at least ten more years of carry-able kid.
The doorbell rang. Harry and Ren, still engaged in a vicious tickle fight in the next room, which was closer, didn't respond.
"Hmph," said Louis. "You expecting anyone, bud?"
Adam shook his head no, then followed Louis to the front door, peeking around Louis' legs. Probably hoping it was Uncle Zayn, he loved Uncle Zayn.
Louis swung it open, and there stood Nick Grimshaw in all his bequiffed glory.
"You what the fuck now," Louis said, cause he hadn't seen the guy in what, six years? It wasn't exactly a rude response, more of a surprised, I could've gone without seeing you for another six one.
"Daddy," Adam reproached.
"Sorry, bud." Louis surveyed Nick up and down. "I'll get Harry."
"No, I," said Nick. "Was in town. Wanted to see the Tomlinson kids?"
"Why," said Louis. Maybe that was rude. Yeah. Bad example for Addie, and all that. It was just sort of a reflex.
Nick cleared his throat.
"I just-- y'know, it's been some time since I've seen Harry. And I'm not trying to be Uncle Nick or whatever. I just, thought I'd say hi, it's. If it's okay."
Harry was suddenly by his side, Ren poking her head out from under Louis' arm to check out what was going on. "Nick!" he said, surprised.
"Hey," Nick said.
They all stood there in expectant silence for a bit. Louis bit the inside of his lip.
"Come in, then," he said, holding the door wide. Harry threw him a half-grateful look.
"Who're you?" Ren demanded once Nick had sank into their sofa, mumbling something to Harry about the cold getting into his bones. From the kitchen, Louis watched, picking Zo up as she started to cry from neglect.
"I'm Nick," Nick said. "Nick Grimshaw."
Ren wrinkled her nose up in distaste. "Daddy doesn't like you," she said.
Harry winced. "Ren!"
"Does he say?" asked Nick curiously.
"Nah. I can tell. When you're in the news, and stuff. He gets that face. I don't like you either, cause you make Daddy all stern-y."
Louis stifled a smirk. That was his kid.
"Ren, be nice," Harry sighed.
"I guess that's justified," Nick said, shrugging. "Who're you, then?"
"I'm Lauren Jay-Anne Tomlinson," she said.
"That you are," Nick agreed.
Ren quelled him with a look. "I'll be nice but only cause Papa doesn't not-like you."
"Adam, say hi," Harry said, petting his hip from where Adam was stuck to his side, wide-eyed. Louis suddenly wondered how obvious he'd made his dislike for Nick Grimshaw. Him and Harry tended to avoid the topic usually. Kind of incredible how perceptive children were.
"Hi," said Adam.
"I'm Nick," said Nick.
"I'm Adam," said Adam.
"How old are you, Adam?" Nick asked.
Adam peered at him seriously. "Four years and seven months."
"That's old," said Nick.
"Not as old as you," Ren commented.
"Ren!"
"That's true," Nick said, mouth quirking up in a sort of smile.
"Next year I'll be able to play on the big swing," Adam said, ever polite, extremely Harry.
Nick said, "You're a lot like Harold." To Harry he asked-- at least it was lower, not meant for the kids-- "This one was you, then?"
"They're all ours," Harry said loyally, a hint of defensiveness. "But-- yeah. In that sense."
"That's what Papa always says," said Adam. He was still behind Harry's leg; he was shy around strangers, but normally he'd have come out by now.
Perceptive. Amazing.
"Hmm?"
"That I'm a lot like Daddy."
"He's right," said Nick. "Right down to the last curl." He looked at Ren, sitting, arms folded, ignoring Harry's attempts to prod her to politeness, and said: "And you're your Papa's kid through and through, love." He didn't say it with any inflection, so Louis let it go. It was true, after all.
Ren jutted her chin defiantly. "Yeah, I am. D'you have a problem?"
Louis felt an odd sort of pride, which was counter-balanced by the fact that Ren really was being outright rude, and he should probably step in, because Harry couldn't control Louis when he got like this, snarky and defensive and spiky, and it was getting pretty obvious he wasn't going to be able to handle Ren either. His eyes sought Louis' pleadingly.
"Ren, watch it," Louis said. "Second time today."
Ren looked at him, like, really? and Louis couldn't keep that stern a face, so she knew she wasn't really in trouble. She unfolded her arms anyway.
"D'you want tea?" Harry asked Nick.
Nick nodded. Louis said, "I'll get it," waving at Harry to sit down. "Shh, baby," he soothed, as Zoey began to flap her arms abstractly in neglect. He put the kettle on and picked her up again.
Nick and Harry were talking, Ren having dragged Adam onto the carpet to teach him the rest of the alphabet, so Louis surveyed them curiously over the top of Zoey's tiny head.
He'd gotten over that sudden lurching stab of jealousy many years ago, and now he just wondered what Nick was up to, how he was doing. He'd gone into tv a few years ago, before Zoey was born. He was good there, hosting. The tabloids reported things about his personal life, him being seen here and there with younger boys, pretty girls, but Louis knew better about tabloids than to believe half of it. It was hard-won knowledge.
He looked at Ren, and Adam on the carpet, Adam grinning in satisfaction at having followed Ren's Q to perfection. He looked at Harry, whose head lifted, as if drawn, to smile back at Louis briefly. The kitchen was warm. The fire was on. His family were home.
Louis did know that Nick Grimshaw hadn't gotten half as lucky as him. That last little lingering smudge of jealousy couldn't bring him to stop feeling smug about it.
He shrugged at Zoey. "I'm not going to be sorry, either," he told her.
"Bluyghy," Zoey said, unjudgementally. The kettle started to boil.
Louis brought the tea to the living room. Too much sugar for Harry, two teaspoonfuls for Nick-- "You can add some more," he told him, bringing Zoey into the room as well. Harry took her from him and she began to coo, pawing at his necklace.
"Thank you," said Nick, politely. "How are you, Louis?"
It was all altogether too careful. Louis fought the urge to insult Nick's still-skinny pants, or something, if just from habit.
"Good," he returned, just as courteous, all very Downton Abbey dinner table-esque. "Doing some writing, trying to deal with this lot--" he waved vaguely at his kids and the mess he hadn't quite gotten around to cleaning up yet. "And you?"
"I'm well," Nick said, then grimaced slightly, like he recognized the banality of the conversation, too. Louis never said Nick was stupid. "Um. Job's okay. Gets my mug on tv couple of times a week, which is all I ever aimed for." He bit his lower lip, and did that odd half-smile again.
You aimed for Harry, Louis almost said. He didn't.
"This is Zoey, I presume?" asked Nick.
"Yeah," said Harry, waving her fist at him. "Yeah, Zo, this is Nick."
Zoey looked at Nick dispassionately. At least she didn't start crying again. That had happened with Eleanor, who had been sweet and smiley and who Harry was cool with now, even if he didn't actively like her. Zoey'd just-- started bawling, which hadn't even happened with Ren or Adam. Louis had some weirdly intuitive kids.
"Well," said Nick, waving half- abortedly like he didn't actually know if he had permission to touch her. "Hi, Zoey."
Louis couldn't take it anymore. "Go on, then, Grimshaw. You're very familiar with kids, aren't you?"
Nick looked almost relieved, then covered it up with: "Claws out, then, Tomlinson? Didn't take long."
"What can I say? You bring out that side of me," Louis informed him.
Harry looked between them anxiously, trying to ascertain whether they were being serious and if he should bring the kids out, and Louis was transported back to nine years ago and exchanging barbs with Nick that had real spite behind the vowels. He patted Harry's knee. "S'okay, babe. We're just catching up."
See, he didn't need to. He'd won. Harry'd tell him it was never a competition. Fuck that, Louis had won.
"See you around, Harold," Nick said, and Harry stepped forward and hugged him.
"Yeah, see you," he echoed, but sort of sadly. London was only a train ride away, but having a family made time sort of sparse, especially if you didn't particularly seek people out.
"Bye, Tomlinson," Nick said. "Goodbye, child who distrusts me immensely."
"Bye," Ren said, politer than expected, sticking her hand out without a nudge from Harry. Nick shook it gravely.
"Bye, Adam," he said. "Nice to meet you."
Louis wondered if he was thinking of Harry as a child, all wild hair, green eyes.
"Bye bye," said Adam. "I would say you was nice, but Daddy normally likes nice people."
Nick let out a surprised huff of laughter. "Harold, he's you all over," he said to Harry. "Right down to the crazy loyalty."
The cab honked, and Nick touched Zoey's tiny toes and said, "They haven't managed to corrupt you yet, child." He smiled at Harry one last time, and turned to the street.
They closed the door behind him, and Ren dragged Adam off to blow up the house or something, judging from the way they were whispering.
Harry shook his head, and smile-sighed, and slumped against their hallway. Then he reached over to kiss Louis' forehead, tender, Zoey pressed between them.
"Our kids adore you, did you know that?" he asked.
"I heard they get it from their Papa," Louis told him.
"They do," Harry told him, ridiculously sincere.
Later, after dinner (lasagna and blueberry cheesecake, and Ren had screeched her delight and Harry had shaken his head and said "you don't deserve it, young lady," ignoring the fact that he was the one who'd stopped by after work to get some specially) and a movie (Avengers, thanks to Adam and Louis, Harry and Ren complaining all up till the time the movie started, by which time they'd settled in squashed on one sofa and Ren between Harry's legs and Adam burrowed in Louis' side and always, always Harry's warm presence, his fingers in Louis' hair, absently, as Adam quoted half the lines before they happened) and pyjama time (not such a big deal tonight as it was some nights, and Louis thanked the old gods and the new for such tiny miracles such as these), Louis was on Ren's bed, getting ready to read out Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban.
Harry was getting Zoey ready for bed in the next room. Louis could hear her manic giggling from here, obviously not inclined much to sleep yet.
"Daddy," said Ren, "I didn't know you knew Nick Grimshaw."
"He's an old friend of Papa's, love," Louis told her.
Ren looked suspicious. "We know Papa's old friends. We never see him around."
"He's busy. Being on tv takes a lot out of you." Louis tapped her nose and opened the book.
"Why don't you like him, Daddy?" asked Adam, face propped up on his elbows on the other bed.
Louis sighed. "You lot. I just. We were in competition, I suppose, over nothing, really, just us being stupid."
Ren yawned sleepily. "Did you win?"
Louis looked at her, tucked one stray tuft of hair behind her ear. Looked over at Adam, snuggled up in his Thor bedspread. "Was a competition that didn't really exist, according to Papa," he told them, and for once, he truly believed it.
They fell asleep during the fourth page. Louis kissed them both goodnight, and turned off the light, the soft glow from Adam's nightlight being the only bright spot in the room. Ren hadn't started asking for her own room yet, still content with her little brother, but soon it'd start to get too small for them both.
Man, Louis hated when kids had to do that fucked up growing up thing. It was necessary and all that, sure, but it didn't have to happen so stupidly fast.
As if she'd heard him, Ren shifted in her sleep, hand reaching out to the still-warm space he'd sat.
"D'you miss him?" he couldn't help asking, anyway, lying in bed as Harry stripped his shirt off and started climbing in.
"Who, Nick?" Harry paused, and thought about it. "Yes, once in a while," he said.
"You should see him more," Louis said.
Harry tilted his head at him, drew up the covers. "That's never been a primary concern of yours," he said, half-laughing.
"I mean. You should see people you miss. I can take the kids, you know that."
Harry considered this for a while. Then he placed one hand over Louis', on Louis' tummy. "I think the sort of miss I feel is the nostalgic sort of miss. Like how I miss being nineteen, even if I never miss the hiding. It's sort of like that, more the memory."
Louis moved, leaned his head on Harry's shoulder.
"Sure, I'd like to see him once in a while, but not as often as you're thinking. I see him once or twice a year, and I think that's enough for him, and I really, really have other concerns, most of the time. I'm very lucky, you know."
He pressed a kiss to Louis' hair.
"Yeah?" Louis said.
"Yeah," Harry confirmed. His hand slid downwards, just a bit. "Other concerns, y'know, like this."
"Way to go, Styles," Louis said, laughing, "way to ruin a nice moment."
"I'm only settling a debt," Harry said innocently, and he shimmied under the covers, and effectively paid up.