Archive of Our Own

David teethes at the age of seven months, later than most but nothing to worry about, according to their midwife. Harry worries anyway, because h can’t help it and because David is upset and wailing and looks so absolutely miserable that Harry isn’t convinced he will get through it. Nick has to work, but Harry wrangles a few days off when the teeth first start coming through and he tries every method he comes across to try and soothe David’s pain.

It doesn’t work. Harry isn’t surprised.

He feels awful leaving Lily with David when the child is so distressed and taking his pain out on everyone else, but management starts getting on his back about recording and editing songs for the new album. She smiles, says she can manage, and to be fair, she looks nowhere near as frazzled as Harry feels when he sees her with David.

Still, Harry feels bad, so one day he begs out of a session one morning and surprises Lily at home.

“I’ll take him for the rest of today,” he offers, standing and watching as she plays quietly with David. He leans against the door and smiles, because she doesn’t immediately stand up when he enters, nor does she act flustered. She’s not ashamed of being silly with David, and that’s exactly what Harry wanted in a nanny.

“Silly little boo,” she whispers to David, lightly brushing his blonde hair out of his face before turning to Harry. “Are you sure?” she asks, smiling gently at him. “I don’t mind looking after him.”

She doesn’t; that’s exactly why Harry wants to give her the day off. She’s in her early twenties, newly graduated, and she shouldn’t be spending her life looking after a pop star’s baby in a job that requires absolute secrecy.

And yes, Harry recognises the irony. He’s younger than she is, and it’s his life.

“I’m sure,” Harry tells her, moving forward to crouch next to David and pick him up. He’s sleepy and compliant, for once, sucking away at a dummy and grabbing at Harry with little fists. “Hey, darling,” Harry says softly, picking him up and kissing his head. “You being good?”

David wriggles a bit.

Lily laughs. “He’s been an angel so far. I rubbed some cream into his gums about ten minutes ago, and he seems a lot happier.”

“You’re amazing,” Harry says gratefully. “I’ll make sure you get the money for today, okay? Go and enjoy yourself.”

Lily chuckles now, tilting her head. “I think you need to take your own advice sometimes,” she replies, and her words are honest and blunt.

Harry shakes her head at her and grins. “Whatever,” he shoots back, but even as she goes, her words stay with him. He works constantly. When he’s not working, he’s looking after David. He and Nick haven’t had sex in two weeks – and that is a record when Harry’s not on tour.

“Okay, love,” Harry says to David, shifting him in his arms so that he can put on shoes with one hand. “You and I are going out.”

David’s response is to drop his dummy, and Harry sighs.

They sneak into the back entrance of the Radio 1 studios and Harry has to suppress a grin at the surprised faces he encounters. He’s been here a million times, so no one makes much of a fuss at first. Ian comes to meet him as Harry makes his way to Nick’s studio.

“So this is the kid,” Ian says, in greeting, and Harry laughs. It’s the first time he’s taken David into the studios, and the baby is curious, peering around at everything from his secure position on Harry’s hip. “He doesn’t look much like either of you.”

“This is David,” Harry confirms first of all. “We think he’ll grow out of the blonde, but,” he shrugs, as if to show he doesn’t know or care.

“Gorgeous,” Ian declares. “You here to see Nick? He’s still got an hour or so to go.”

“Yeah, I know,” Harry says. “Thought I’d just give David the chance to get out of the house and meet some people. And I miss this place.” He grins.

Ian raises an eyebrow. “Can’t say we’ve noticed either way,” he jokes. “You were always so well behaved when you came in to visit.”

“I sense sarcasm,” Harry says haughtily, and they make their way towards where Nick will be.

“Got smarter whilst you’ve been away, too,” Ian retorts. They reach the studio, and Harry can see Nick’s back as he faces away from him, talking into his microphone and laughing. He smiles slowly, shushing David when the baby begins to stir and get bored.

“You going in?” Ian asks, taking a seat and gesturing for Harry to grab one too.

“Nah,” Harry says, moving David so that he is sitting on Harry’s knees. The child has started to sit up without support, but Harry holds him firmly just in case. “Don’t want to distract him. I’ll go for a wander with David in a while.”

“Someone might tweet it,” Ian warns, flicking through papers on his desk for a second. “It’s not like it used to be in the evenings. Everyone’s at work, can’t guarantee one of the staff won’t result in paps outside.”

Harry shrugs. “Knew it was a risk,” he says. He doesn’t really expect to get out of here without crowds, even if it’s nice to dream. He’s trying to expose David gently to that area of his life, though, and a small fan crowd and a couple of paps are a good way to start – and make up for the debacle in Spain. David’s older now; he should be able to cope with the people alright.

Ian still looks at him worriedly – or, okay, looks at David that way, he knows Harry is well versed with crowds by now.

“We’ll be fine,” Harry assures him. Adverts are queued then, and Nick spins around in his chair to talk to Fincham, and they both catch sight of Harry at the same time. Nick grins, wide and open, whilst Fincham just gapes a little. Harry stands up, pulling David onto his hip and waving.

Ian sighs. “Guess this means long adverts and then a couple of songs,” he mutters, because Nick and Fincham are both making their way towards him.

“Hello, Popstar,” Nick greets as he leaves the sound booth. He takes David off Harry quickly and murmurs to him stupid, silly things, while Harry is caught in a hug by Matt.

“You alright?” Fincham asks, pulling back. “Heard the midget is being loud.”

Harry laughs, looking fondly at Nick and David. “I’m okay,” he answers. “David’s teething; he’s just in pain.”

“Bastards, those babies,” Matt says fervently, but his gaze is directed towards David and not Nick, so Harry doubts the sincerity of the words. “Sap your money, your youth, and your will to live.”

“Don’t think Haz has to worry about youth, yet,” Nick joins in, settling David in a position similar to Harry’s one before. “He’s still a baby himself.”

“Heeeyyy,” Harry says, pouting at Nick. “I’m twenty.”

“Ah, to be young,” Matt sighs, before looking at Nick. “Can I hold him?” he asks, and Harry remembers that Finchy, too, has yet to meet David.

“Go for it,” Harry answers, because Nick is clutching David and frowning at Matt.

Matt looks uncertain for a moment, before he reaches out towards David. Nick sighs heavily, but hands him over.

“Carefully,” Nick warns, but there is a smirk on his face. Matt bounces David up and down and grins.

“Is he walking yet?” Matt asks, and Nick rolls his eyes in despair.

“He’s barely even crawling.”

Harry agrees. “It’ll be a while,” he says. “He’s a bit behind most babies.”

“He’s slow, you mean,” Ian suggests, and Harry glares at him.

“He’s perfect,” Harry responds, and Nick laughs at him.

“Perfectly good at making a mess,” the man points out.

Harry pouts. “Horrible, the lot of you.” He takes David off Fincham and says to him, “you’re lovely, aren’t you, darling? They’re just jealous.”

The others are laughing at him. Harry doesn’t care.

“Get back in there,” Ian says suddenly, looking at his watch and pushing Nick in the direction of the booth. “You have a job to do.”

Nick nods, smiles, and asks, “are you staying, then?” to Harry.

“Probably,” Harry says with a shrug. “Unless David starts acting up.”

Nick leans forward, kisses him chastely, and replies, “Stay.”

Harry smiles back at him. Fincham is back in the booth already but Ian is making gagging noises behind them. “Okay,” Harry agrees easily, before raising his eyebrows at Ian. “You better behave,” he warns.

Nick kisses him again, then heads back to his job, speaking into the microphone immediately and laughing at something.

Ian shakes his head. “Says the child.”

“I’m not a child!” Harry protests, unable to stop the corners of his mouth lifting. David stirs a bit, then, and begins to babble at Harry, mimicking speech but not making sense.

“He’s going to be as loud as you and Nick,” Ian tells him, grabbing a seat and tilting his head. “It’ll be a disaster.”

“It’ll be perfect,” Harry denies, pressing his lips to David’s forehead. “He’s perfect.”

Harry can hear Ian groaning about saps and hormones next to him, but he just smiles, closing his eyes and breathing.

Nick presses a cup of tea into Harry’s hand two days later, when they’re both curled up on the sofa in pyjamas. It’s six o’clock, and Harry feels faintly middle-aged, but David has been up all night teething, and they have just managed to settle him down to sleep. (Harry’s a little tempted to join him.)

Nick flicks through the TV channels whilst Harry sips at his tea, leaning his body against Nick with a sigh. He’d been doing promo all morning, in styled outfits and groomed hair, and he really just wants to relax. Lily had brought David along to all the studios at Harry’s request, because the kid was being a shit

- okay, maybe he shouldn’t call his baby that, but seriously, how long could he cry for? –

and Harry didn’t think it was fair to leave Lily alone with him. So he’d spent every interval possible taking David off her hands and trying to soothe him, letting Lou work around the child while Harry rubbed creams into his gums and gave him teething rings.

He’s exhausted.

“Aimee’s coming over tomorrow evening,” Nick tells him quietly as he chooses a repeat of How I Met Your Mother. “If that’s okay,” he adds awkwardly.

Things are a little tense between Harry and Aimee still, and he’s grateful that Nick is aware of it. But Aimee is David’s godmother – a compromise, since Harry chose Louis for godfather against Nick’s wishes – and so he doesn’t feel he can say no. David deserves to be able to spend time with Aimee, and Harry still likes her, misses her, even if the two of them have been putting off the chat they really should have had by now.

“Okay,” Harry says, gazing at the TV screen. “I- I might be going out with Gemma,” he continues, though he is making it up as he goes along. “She’s back in London and-”

“I don’t want you to have to leave for Aimee to come over,” Nick interrupts, and his voice is tight. Oh, Harry thinks, and he glances at Nick to see if he is angry or upset. He can’t decide.

“I’m not-” he doesn’t know what to say, and so he shrugs helplessly. He and Aimee have issues that they haven’t resolved, and maybe Harry is a child for avoiding her, but he can afford that sometimes, can’t he?

“Will you tell me what the problem is with you two?” Nick says. Harry’s surprised for a second. He and Nick- they don’t push, is the thing. They’ve stopped running from each other (mostly), but they still suck at communicating. Their general policy is to wait for the other to fess up, rather than ask. So Harry’s never explained why Aimee and he are awkward, beyond the obvious, and obviously Aimee hasn’t either.

“There’s not-” Harry tries to skirt around it.

“Don’t lie, Haz, please?” Nick buts in. “I know you and Aimee are weird around each other.”

Harry burrows his head into Nick’s shoulder, as if he can hide away, and says, “She didn’t call.”

“What?” Nick asks.

“Well, no,” Harry corrects himself. “She called once to tell me to take you back. But-”

Nick shifts then, turning to look at him. Harry doesn’t glance up, just closes his eyes and breathes in Nick’s smell.

“When you were pregnant,” Nick checks, “and I was ignoring you?”

Harry nods silently.

“Was she supposed to call?” Nick asks slowly, and Harry flushes in humiliation, because way to make him feel stupid, arsehole. He feels like Nick is saying, what’s the big deal?, and it’s embarrassing.

Harry shrugs. “’m stupid,” he says lowly. “It’s nothing.”

“No, Haz,” Nick says quickly, and he seems to sense that he’s said something wrong. “Explain to me the problem? Because I’m a little confused.”

“I know she’s your friend,” Harry admits quietly. “But I- I thought maybe-” He doesn’t continue.

“She’s your friend, too,” Nick tells him gently, and he seems to have understood what Harry’s getting at.

“She didn’t call,” Harry repeats, and his voice is a little choked up. He curls tighter into Nick’s side.

“She should have,” Nick agrees, running a hand through Harry’s hair. “I didn’t realise.”

“S’okay,”

“No,” Nick says. “She’s your friend just as much as mine. She shouldn’t have cut you out, especially when she didn’t know what was going on.”

Harry shrugs, because he agrees but doesn’t feel like badmouthing Nick’s friend – and the godmother to his child.

“What about the rest?” Nick asks, after a pause. “Did they-?”

The rest, Harry thinks. Like Gels and Pixie and Henry and everyone else? The people Harry had been hanging out with for two years?

He shakes his head.

“They didn’t call,” Nick guesses, and his voice is hard, now. “None of them thought to even check you were alright?”

“You weren’t speaking to me,” Harry says.

“That doesn’t mean they shouldn’t have either,” Nick hisses, and oh, he’s angry now, and Harry doesn’t want to cause problems at all-

“I can fight my own battles, Nick,” he says, linking their hands but not looking up, because seeing his watery frown will not help Nick calm down.

“But you won’t,” Nick points out. “So I’ll do it for you.”

Harry thinks about protesting, but then remembers how alone he’d felt, even with the band and Louis and his family. He’d been hurt, really hurt, when he’d realised that all of them had cut him out of their lives because he and Nick weren’t together.

“I thought they were my friends,” he whispers into Nick’s shoulder. “I didn’t- I don’t have anyone else.”

Nick turns and envelopes him in a warm embrace, carding a hand through Harry’s hair and resting his cheek on his head. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t realise. I would have whacked them all a long time ago, otherwise.”

“It’s okay,” Harry mumbles, but it’s not, not really, because it had thrown up for him how little he had, really. He had few friends outside the band who weren’t connected to him through Nick, and they’d all been abundantly clear how much they liked him.

“It’s not,” Nick says fiercely. “I love you. They shouldn’t have done that.”

Harry doesn’t reply, and Nick doesn’t bring it up again that night.

Harry sleeps curled up next to Nick, their breaths even and deep and Harry wants to stay like this forever, with his child in the next room and his - boyfriend? partner? – lying beside him, peaceful and protected and cocooned in the warmth of his little family.

Aimee arrives at six o’clock, and Harry is still in the shower after a long day doing promo. He’s due a few days off next week, and he honestly cannot wait.

He can hear low murmurs of Nick and Aimee outside the bathroom, and he has a moment of anxiety when he wonders if they’re talking about him, if Nick is still angry, or-

He wonders if it’s messed up that he’s worried more about Nick not being angry. He doesn’t want to cause problems but then- he doesn’t want Nick to have forgotten, or pass it off as Harry being stupid.

He feels anxiety curl in his stomach and he lets water drip over his face, taking in deep breaths.

“Don’t be stupid,” he whispers to himself. Nick and Aimee’s voices have faded, presumably moving further into the lounge, and he pulls himself together and climbs out of the shower.

He stands by the door a few minutes later, dressed and trying to will himself to open the door. He sucks in a breath and walks out of the bathroom, shirtless with loose trackies on his bottom half. The caesarean scar is still there, ugly but fading, and he finds he doesn’t mind it being on show when at home.

(he’s a little petty too, hoping that it’ll remind Aimee of his pregnancy and make her feel guilty, but he wouldn’t ever admit that)

He can hear David whimpering quietly in his cot in the nursery, and he detours to pick him up.

“Hey, there, baby,” he murmurs, placing him on his hip. “It’s alright, Daddy’s got you.”

It reminds him that he needs to have a conversation with Nick about parenting names before David starts learning to talk properly instead of just babbling. He hears Aimee and Nick raise their voices a little and decides it can wait.

He wanders through into the living room, listening to David babble, and watches as Nick and Aimee immediately cease their conversation.

“Hey, Aimee,” he says, slightly wary. He grabs himself the tea that Nick has left on the side for him and bounces David up and down.

“Hiya, Harry,” she returns with a wide smile, while Nick moves to stand next to him.

“Alright?” Nick asks quietly, and Harry nods appreciatively.

“Did you want to say hello to David?” Harry offers to Aimee, lifting David off his hip and holding him out. “I thought that’s what you came for.”

Aimee shook her head, her smile still in place but not as strong. “I came to see all of you,” she replies, and Harry is aware of the tenseness of Nick’s body next to him. He settles David back down on his hip and runs a soothing hand along Nick’s arm.

“Right,” Harry says awkwardly. “Did you want some wine or tea or something?”

Nick shakes his head. “I gave her tea,” he says, and Aimee lifts up the cup in demonstration. Harry flushes, feeling a bit stupid.

“Okay,” is all he says, and then wonders what else he should say. Neither Nick nor Aimee seem relaxed, nor inclined to joke around with each other and slob in front of the TV. “Should I- Do you want me to go?” he offers haltingly, unsure what he’s walked in to but thinking maybe it is something Nick and Aimee should sort out alone.

“Nah,” Nick speaks up, sighing. “Sorry, Haz, it’s just-”

He trails off, and Harry shifts his weight from foot to foot. David reaches up and grabs his collar, nearly strangling him until Harry manages to gently tug it away.

“Nick was telling me how I was an inconsiderate friend,” Aimee confesses eventually, but her voice isn’t asking for forgiveness. It’s a little hard, and very unapproachable, and Harry doesn’t know how to reply.

“You were,” Nick retorts from next to him. Harry glances at him to find him glaring. “I can’t believe you-”

“Jesus, Nick, I’m sorry,” Aimee stresses, interrupting him but not sounding like she means her words at all. “I fucked up, but so did you. Don’t you dare get onto your high horse now.”

Nick bristles next to him.

“I’m going to take David out somewhere,” Harry says slowly, only to be stopped by Nick’s arm around his waist.

“Stay,” his partner says. “This involves you too.”

Harry does as he’s asked, but he lets the two of them argue it out, deciding not to get involved. David hasn’t seemed to pick up on the tension, now happily sucking at Harry’s t-shirt, which is gripped between his hands.

“I know I messed up,” Nick tells Aimee. “I said sorry and I fucking meant it. Where have you been?”

“Dealing with your hysterics,” she snaps back. Harry takes a seat at the table, placing David on his lap and removing the soggy top from his hands, reaching across to find a dummy instead.

“Here, baby boy,” he says quietly, the words lost in the simmering frustration hanging over the room. David babbles at him, and Harry kisses him on the forehead, trying to block out the heated conversation.

“I never meant for you to abandon him,” Nick is saying, and Harry startles when he realises that this discussion may actually be about him. “You didn’t even know what had happened!”

“Because you wouldn’t tell me,” Aimee retorts, her American accent coming out stronger than ever. “You spent weeks either curled up on my sofa or getting smashed in some club or other, and all I knew was that Harry was pregnant and that for some reason you two were split up. I thought he’d dumped you or cheated or something!”

Harry feels something twist inside him at that, hating the fact that Aimee thought he would fuck up their relationship that badly. He knows Aimee was Grimmy’s friend first, but he thought she might, maybe, have a better opinion of him. He swallows down the lump in his throat and stands to sneak out of the room.

Are you at home? He sends to Louis as he creeps out, feeling the relief as his phone immediately buzzes.

Yeah, what’s wrong?

Nick calls his name as Harry is just out of the room, and Harry says, “It’s okay, I’ll be back tomorrow.”

He looks down at David, happy in his arms, and has the foresight to grab a couple of nappies and a jumper before he leaves.

I’m coming over, he types to Louis. I’ll tell you when I get there.

He can hear Nick renew his argument with Aimee, and he rubs his free hand over his face. He hopes they’ll calm down soon, and Nick will call him or something, and everything will be all right again.

He’s always a little optimistic.

Louis opens the door almost as soon as Harry rings the doorbell, and Harry thrusts a crying baby into his arms before picking up his bags and marching inside.

“I need to change him,” he tells Louis before the boy even manages a word, kicking off his shoes and pushing his hair back from his face. He holds out his arms, ready to take David back, but Louis just laughs at him.

“Hello to you too,” he greets sarcastically, nuzzling his nose with David’s. Then- “It’s okay, Haz, I’ll change him. Are you staying over?”

Harry feels so absolutely grateful for Louis’ presence in his life that for one second he thinks he may actually cry, but instead he just shrugs. “I don’t know,” he says a little pathetically. “I just couldn’t stay.”

David’s still crying, and Louis takes charge. “Right,” he begins briskly, “you get settled on the sofa while I change the little man. El’s here, she’ll come and say hello. I told her you were coming.”

“Thanks,” Harry mutters hoarsely, passing his bags onto Louis and sloping through into the lounge. He collapses on the sofa, sending a quick reassuring text to Nick explaining where he is, and then shuts his eyes. Fuck, he’s wiped out.

“Hey, Harry,” comes Eleanor’s quiet voice. He sits up to find her standing in the doorway, a welcoming smile on her face and dressed casually in pyjama bottoms and a jumper.

“Shit, I interrupted you, didn’t I?” Harry groans in realisation, getting up to hug her tightly. “I’m sorry.”

Eleanor laughs at him. “It’s alright,” she tells him calmingly. “We were just having a lazy night in. Nothing special.”

“Still,” Harry says, because he hadn’t been thinking when he’d invaded his friend’s home with his domestic problems. “I brought a baby and a drama into your home when you were trying to relax.”

“Drama?” Eleanor repeats, with her eyebrows raised and a smile playing about her lips. They both sit back down on the sofa, and Harry can smell the unassuming scent of her perfume – or shampoo, maybe, he can never tell.

“Okayy,” Harry whines, already feeling a little better about the situation. “That was overly dramatic,” he admits.

“Just a little.”

Harry returns her smile helplessly, because Eleanor is lovely and fierce in her gentleness, and such a good match for Louis that Harry couldn’t help but love her by extension.

“Do you want to tell me what’s going on?” El asks quietly, after Harry rests his head on her shoulder and she allows him to curl up next to him. She’s great like that, having adjusted easily to the lack of personal space in their band.

“Nick and Aimee are fighting,” Harry tells her. Louis enters the room then, with David settled in his arms. His child is red faced but no longer crying, and Harry immediately reaches out to take him. Louis shakes his head.

“Let me have him for a bit?” he asks? offers? It’s hard to tell with Louis.

“Okay,” Harry gives in, although his arms feel a bit empty and he sort of wishes he was sitting next to Louis in the armchair instead of curled up with El. It’s immediately banished to the box of awful thoughts he shouldn’t have again.

“Who’s fighting?” Louis asks then, tilting his head at Eleanor.

“Nick and Aimee,” she informs him, rubbing Harry’s arm. He tries to purr up at her with a grin, but the sound comes out weird and choked, and she giggles at him.

“Idiot,” she whispers fondly, and he strokes his head against her side.

“Stop flirting with my girlfriend,” Louis warns him lightly, before turning serious again. “Why did their fight end up with you kicked out of your house?”

“It didn’t, exactly,” Harry tries to explain, feeling sleepy and comfortable and okay again, lying on their sofa that smelt not of sex but of relaxed nights watching films and the faint whiff of popcorn. “I- I think they were fighting about me,” he finishes awkwardly.

“What about you?” El asks, frowning.

“Nick’s angry at Aimee for not talking to me when we broke up,” Harry confesses quietly, burying his head in Eleanor’s shoulder and letting the fabric of her jumper muffle his words. He faintly hears Louis getting up, before he is aware of a body pushing its way between him and El. Louis wriggles his bum until he is comfortably seated, wrapping an arm around Harry and wordlessly asking Eleanor to take David.

That’s another thing Harry likes about Louis and Eleanor. They’re both so in sync, so together in every single way that it’s breath-taking just watching them.

“Explain,” Louis demands, his voice hardening. “What do you mean she didn’t talk to you?”

Harry shrugs. “We’d broken up. She stuck with Nick. It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not,” says El gently, trying to stop David grabbing her hair at the same time.

“No,” Louis agrees. “And even Nick doesn’t think so, if he’s bitching at her for it.”

“It’s stupid,” Harry argues lowly. “It was months ago, and me and Aimee aren’t exactly fine but everyone was getting on alright until Nick found out-”

“She shouldn’t have ditched you for Nick,” Lou says firmly, hugging Harry tight. “Not if she counted herself as your friend.”

“Well she obviously didn’t, did she?” Harry snaps back, suddenly, because this, this is the problem, what’s causing him stress. Harry had thought her a friend, and if she hadn’t been, how can he know who really is? It throws everything into pieces, and he finds himself looking around and thinking, are you mine or Nick’s friend, really? Mine or Louis’? Mine or Gemma’s?

“Haz,” Louis says slowly. “Maybe, maybe she just messed up. People do, you know. And if she didn’t, then you still have everyone else, yeah? You’ll never be alone.”

Harry shakes his head. “None of Nick’s friends talked to me,” he admits, his voice rough and low and tired, and he’s so absolutely fed up with the drama of his life.

Louis draws in a breath, and Harry’s ready for a pissed off swearing session at everyone stupid enough to have come in contact with Harry, but then he seems to force himself to relax. Harry suspects El has something to do with it.

“Then you’ll always have us,” Louis tells him fiercely instead, holding him closely. “No matter what.”

“It’s true,” El joins in. “Even if something happens between me and Louis, I won’t go running off away from you. I promise.”

Harry closes his eyes, pushes down the tears, and says, quietly, “I love you.”

Louis and Eleanor don’t say a word, but they hold him tight that night and take care of David and fuss over both of them with a tenderness that Harry doesn’t feel he deserves, and all of it says more than three words ever can.

Harry goes home early the next morning, before Eleanor and Louis are awake, with the sole purpose of catching Nick before he leaves for work. Nick won’t ring, he knows, no matter how desperate he is to speak to Harry, because Harry hates being woken up the few times he manages to get David to sleep properly.

“Nick?” he calls out when he walks through the door, placing David down in his cot gently so that he doesn’t wake up. There’s movement in the lounge, so he heads there first.

He finds Aimee just waking up on the sofa, her eyes tired and red. She sees him and freezes.

“Nick’s in the shower,” she says, and Harry nods.

“Tea?” he offers, pulling out three cups in anticipation and filling up the kettle.

“Please,” she says. There’s a pause, then-

“I am sorry,” Aimee apologises quietly, and it feels more sincere now than last night. Aimee’s eyes are wide and honest, her hair mussed and t-shirt crumpled after sleeping in it. She looks younger and less fierce, and Harry feels his heart ease a little.

“It’s okay,” he tells her, even if it isn’t really, and three words can’t always make it right again.

Time passes. Harry and Aimee reconcile slowly, the tenseness fading as they readjust, and Nick no longer glares at her routinely. Nick yells at every other one of his friends, even ones Harry had not expected to keep in touch with, and Harry cannot decide whether to be amused or embarrassed or grateful at the display. He splits his time between all three.

David learns to crawl, and it is endless amusement for Harry at work when Lily makes the mistake of putting him down somewhere and then running around frantically to prevent the child doing himself an injury. It also means childproofing their home, but Harry and Nick do that together one day, persuading Gemma to take David whilst they blitz the rooms. It’s fun and if they end up having sex on the living room floor – well, no one knows but them, do they? (and maybe the window cleaner they scarred for life, but they try not to speak of that)

Promo carries on right up to and after the release of their fourth album, and Harry finds himself pulled in a million directions when they’re told they need to do a short trip around Europe and America to promote the songs in different countries.

Nick can’t come this time, can’t take the time off work, and Harry cannot justify flying Lily out with them. He agrees to leave David at home with Nick and Lily, and he spends the entire time away from home lonely and upset and Skyping them both every free second he has.

“Missing them?” Zayn asks sympathetically one day, when they’re in a foreign country that Harry can’t even remember anymore and they’re waiting for their turn for hair and make-up.

Harry nods, flicking through Nick’s twitter and wishing he’d post something, anything, just so Harry could feel a little bit more connected to their life.

“Why don’t you ring?” Zayn suggests, and Harry glances at his watch.

“Nick will be working,” he surmises, sighing loudly and cursing his life and his tendency to overdramatize things.

“So?” Zayn asks, before getting called by Lou. He walks off with a ‘see you later’ thrown over his shoulder, and Harry finds himself staring at the wall. Why not?

Finchy takes his call with a muffled laugh and a cheeky instruction to not give it away to Nick yet. Harry hadn’t been planning to disguise his identity, but he goes along with it because he needs a little amusement in his life – and he’s a little bitter that Nick gets to see David every day still while Harry hasn’t seen his baby in person for days.

“Hello, caller,” Nick announces a moment later when Harry is put through. “What’s your name and where are you from?”

“Harry,” he says, trying to supress a laugh. “I’m from- Doncaster.” He hopes the mild hesitation wasn’t noticeable. He’d only realised halfway through that saying Cheshire would be a dead give-away.

“Hello Harry from Doncaster,” Grimmy says cheerfully. “What’s your worst romantic experience then? Can it beat Katy Perry’s drama this week?”

“What-?” Harry starts to say, realising that he should have perhaps listened to the show if he wanted to pass off as any other listener. He coughs. “My boyfriend once made me an apology dinner with something I was allergic to in it, and I spent the evening in hives.”

It’s true, and funny, and probably instantly recognisable to Nick. He wishes he could see his face.

“And are you in Doncaster now, Harry?” Nick asks slowly, and Harry grins, knowing Nick is onto him.

“Not exactly,” he replies, before yelling away from the phone, “Louis, where are we?”

“Austria!” Louis calls back, before returning to his previous activity of trying to push Niall of a Segway he’d picked up somewhere – and Harry really doesn’t understand where he gets them.

“I’m in Austria, right now,” Harry tells the Radio 1 crew, and there is the sound of uncontrollable laughter from Finchy and Nick’s low grumbles. There’s Fiona’s voice too, saying “Is that-?” in the background, and Harry lets out his trademark laugh.

“Finchy, you could have warned me,” Nick is saying, and Harry can’t help the helpless fits he’s in now, even as Lou stands over him, raising an eyebrow in the way that means, I needed you in that chair five minutes ago.

“Sorry, Grimmy,” Fincham chokes out.

“Not his fault,” Harry adds easily, accepting the blame and turning away from Lou’s glare.

“It’s always his fault,” Nick proclaims, before turning his radio voice back on. “For those currently confused, we have a Mr Harold Styles on the line right now, pretending to be an ordinary caller and trying – badly – to fool me.”

“I could have tricked you if I wanted,” Harry says, pouting.

“Never,” Nick declares.

“Could too,” Harry says.

“Nope,”

“I’m going to interrupt this love fest right here,” Finchy breaks in, “as delightful as it is.”

Nick splutters, and Harry barks out another laugh. Lou raises both eyebrows now, and Harry sighs.

“Yeah, I need to go as well,” he says, giving in to her silent demands.

“Pop star duties keeping you busy?” Grimmy asks, faking sympathy. “Poor love, how will you survive?”

“Idiot,” Harry says. He keeps forgetting they’re on live radio, but then again their relationship is public now, so does it matter?

“Thanks for calling in, Harry,” Matt tells him, and there is still genuine amusement in his voice. “Feel free to do it anytime.”

“I will,” Harry tells him.

“Bye, Haz,” Nick says, and it is a little more blasé than their normal goodbyes, but the pressure of a few hundred thousand listeners puts a damper on any romance.

Then again- “Love you all,” Harry says brightly, and although to anyone else it is aimed at everyone at Radio 1, Harry knows Nick will take it as it is meant, directed at him alone. “Bye!”

He hangs up before Nick has the dilemma of returning his ‘love you’ or not, because although Harry could disguise it as casual, Nick would have to direct it at Harry and Harry alone, and that’s a little personal for live radio, in his opinion.

Lou Teasdale points at the adjoining room with her eyebrows pulled together. “Now,” she barks, and Harry scrambles to do as she says, unable to suppress his grin completely.

Louis crawls into bed with him most nights when they’re away, because he knows Harry feels lonely and aches at the loss of his child’s warmth and steady breaths. Harry thinks Louis is missing El, too, even if they don’t live together normally, and he makes an effort to sleep close to him, both taking comfort in each other’s presence.

When they’re in hotel rooms with large, oversized beds, it’s not uncommon to find all five lads asleep in one bed. It’s never been discussed, not really. They’re united in homesickness and loneliness and sleeping with your best mates, your family? That’s the only way to ease the gripping pain a little.

Louis confesses one night, when everyone but Harry is asleep and the room is dark and quiet. He whispers, “I think El wants me to propose,” and his voice is soft and harsh in equal measure, and Harry doesn’t know what to say for a while. Sleep is floating into his mind with a vengeance, but he knows he should pay attention to this, should wake up and listen and comfort but-

He’s tired, and he doesn’t remember in the morning.

The promo tour finishes eventually, and all five of them are planning on going home to their families and sleeping and sleeping and sleeping until they can’t anymore. Harry aches to hold David in his arms, panicking over missing something vital, even if Nick assures him daily that no, he hasn’t started walking or talking or anything else, and yes, he misses his Daddy.

Harry walks through the door, and it’s late, very late, so he doesn’t expect Nick to be up at all. He is though, and Harry is crowded against the wall as soon as he dumps his bags.

“Love you, Popstar,” Nick murmurs against his mouth, and Harry abandons the attempt to return the sentiment and just presses his feelings into Nick with his lips and hand and body and-

They don’t move for a while.

When they separate from each other, Harry sneaks quietly into the nursery and sits on the floor next to David’s cot. Nick’s right, he doesn’t look different. Maybe a little older, maybe a little chubbier, but still David, still theirs. Harry rests his head on the bars at the side of the cot and breathes in that baby smell, timing his breaths with David’s and just taking it all in, feeling a little overwhelmed. He’s missed this, so much, and he can feel himself becoming a little choked up.

Nick enters the room quietly, and sits down next to him without a word, wrapping his arms around Harry and kissing his head slowly. It’s peaceful, and it’s beautiful, and Harry feels so at home.

He waits a couple of days before he takes David up to Holmes Chapel. It’s not the first time he’s been, but it’s the only time without Nick. They’d spent the last Christmas there together with David, before going to Nick’s parents for Boxing Day. Harry’s working at the weekend though, and Nick can’t take days off during the week, so Harry kisses Nick goodbye with a promise to call daily, and heads off on the three hour journey up North.

David sleeps happily through most of it, aided by the warm bottle of milk he’d been given before they left. He’s almost entirely fed on solid foods now, at nearly nine months, but Harry and Nick noticed that milk is still the best way to send him off to sleep when necessary. Harry takes some baby food with him, just in case, but David’s an angel and wakes only when they’re drawing into Holmes Chapel.

He’s wet, though, and Harry grabs him out of the car seat with a heavy sigh and picks up his bags. His mum has seen him pull up, and is hurrying out to help him.

“Let me take David,” she starts to say, but Harry shakes his head.

“He needs to be changed,” he explains, passing the car keys over to her instead. “Can you lock the car?”

“Of course,” Anne says immediately, dropping a kiss onto his forehead and David’s, wrinkling her nose at the smell. “It’s lovely to see you,” she tells him quietly.

“You too,” Harry returns, just as David starts to wail. “I’m going to-” He gestures to the house, and his mum nods and laughs.

“Come find me when you’re done,” she says, taking the last bag out of the car as Harry heads inside. He goes straight to the bathroom, changing and cleaning David with little fuss. The first time he and Nick had done this alone had been a disaster, both holding their noses and Nick bemoaning the state of his clothes.

They’d gotten better eventually.

He wanders downstairs with a content David wriggling in his arms, and he sets him down on the floor of the living room, grabbing one of the bags his mum had dumped there and handing David a soft toy. David makes excited noises, chewing it in his mouth and waving it above his head. Harry sits there and watches him for a while, a soft smile on his face.

“He looks happy,” his mum says from behind him, taking a seat of the sofa.

“Yeah,” Harry agrees. “I think he is.”

His mum runs a hand through Harry’s hair and murmurs, “He’s got two amazing Dads, that’s why.”

“Well,” Harry begins slowly, and his mum knows him too well because she whacks him softly.

“Don’t you start bitching about Nick. I’ll tell on you!”

Harry gasps in mock outrage. “You wouldn’t,” he says, feigning hurt, falling over so that David crawls over next to him, curious.

“Don’t test me,” she warns, but her smile is warm and she watches David pull at Harry’s hair with a truly fond look on her face. “He loves you,” she tells Harry after a couple of beats.

“I hope so,”

“He does,” his mum reassures him, and Harry loves her then, more than he loves anybody else in his life, because she was there for him first, before everyone, before his life changed so dramatically, and it is thanks to her that he has this now, that he has Nick and David.

“Thanks,” he says, and he wishes he could express it all in words, how much she means to him, how much David is a part of him, how he never tells her I love you enough but he means it with every word and touch instead.

Maybe she gets it, because she slides to the floor next to them both and just watches as they play together, her gentle smile never fading from her face.

He meets up with Louis when he returns from Holmes Chapel. It’s their last day off, and Harry brings David with them to Hyde Park in a buggy. It’s cold, since it’s March and the Spring seems late this year, but daffodils are already beginning to bloom and David is warm enough in his winter coat, gloves, and hat.

Louis is pensive for most of the day, playing with David and teasing Harry but it lacks his normal boisterousness. Harry gets more and more concerned as the day goes on, and he drags Louis over to a secluded bench after a while.

“What’s up?” he asks, crossing his legs on the bench and turning the buggy so that David can see them. He gives him a dummy absently, waiting for him to start sucking it before letting it go.

“Nothing,” Louis replies instantly, and it’s a little too quick. “Lou,” Harry says, looking at him. Louis allows a small sigh.

“Yeah, okay,” he gives in. “I’m apparently as bad a liar as you.”

Harry gives him a small smile that Louis returns, but doesn’t let himself get distracted. Louis has been his rock these past few months, and Harry owes him the world and more for it.

“So?” Harry prompts, waiting for Louis to confess.

The man-child looks down at his hands, seeming his size for once as the loudness fades. “Do you remember, in America, a month ago or something-?” He trails off and Harry frowns, trying to think.

“No,” Harry admits quietly. “Explain?”

“I thought El wanted me to propose,” Louis tells him, and Harry holds in his immediate excitement because Louis doesn’t look happy, and wait, thought? Past tense.

“What happened?”

“She kept talking about commitment and panicking and ringing her friends and family for hours at a time. I thought maybe she wanted to get married or something like Zayn and Perrie and was worried about what I thought but-” Louis chokes a little, stopping to run his hands through his hair.

Harry shifts closer, unfolding his legs so that his thighs press against Louis’, trying to impart comfort through that touch alone. “But?” he asks gently.

“She’s pregnant,” Louis lets slip, his voice rough and upset, but Harry hears nothing beyond the word, pregnant, and is unable to stop the smile crossing his face.

“But, Louis, that’s great,” he says quickly. “David can have a playmate-”

Louis emits a low, wordless, painful, sound then that stops Harry in his tracks. “We can’t all be like you and Grimmy,” he spits out, and Harry tells himself not to be hurt by this, that Louis’ upset right now.

“What do you mean?” Harry questions quietly, pressing against Louis more firmly.

“She doesn’t want it,” Louis says harshly, but the glint of tears in his eyes belays the anger in his voice.

“She’s getting rid of it?”

Harry tells himself to breathe, to stop imagining the death of a child, to think of last year when he was so close to aborting his own child too-

-but that makes it worse, then, because it’s not a nameless foetus to him, it’s David, beautiful, bright David sitting in front of him sucking on a dummy, and he can’t help but think that Eleanor would regret it too much-

-but it’s not his body this time.

“Yeah,” Louis says, and he seems to sag. Harry wraps him in a hug. There’s no one around; they’re out of sight and Harry feels comfortable enough to not be worried about the show of affection.

“Do you want it?” Harry asks, and feels horrible straight after, because what a way to rub it in.

Louis chokes out a laugh. “I don’t know,” he confesses. “I won’t let myself think about it.”

Harry holds him closely, pressing a kiss into his hair and saying, “Are you okay?”

He feels Louis shake his head. “I don’t think El is, either. She wants it in a way, I think, but she doesn’t want a baby now, when we’re successful and she’s still studying.”

“What about the two of you?”

“I don’t even know,” Louis says quietly, and he doesn’t talk anymore, just lets Harry hold him until the sun starts to go down and David gets bored with his dummy. Harry drops Louis off at home, promising to call him tomorrow, and sends off a quick text to El, asking if she’s okay.

She doesn’t reply, and it’s fair enough.

Eleanor gets an abortion two days later, and Harry drives the two of them to the private clinic as inconspicuously as he can, as neither appears stable enough to control a car. Louis goes in with Eleanor while Harry sits outside. The procedure apparently takes five to ten minutes, and Eleanor has already met with the two required doctors to get signed off on it, but the local anaesthetic given means it may be a while before they emerge. Harry finds a quiet parking place, puts his phone on loud, and gets out a book.

Eleanor looks tired and miserable when they leave the clinic, her face lined and looking much older than she is. Louis, by contrast, is expressionless; his face smooth and blank. He still holds the car door open for El though, and supports her back as she climbs in. Harry can hear them murmuring to each other in the back, Eleanor’s head pressed against Louis as he runs his hand gently through her hair. Harry doesn’t want to intervene.

He’s filled with a little bit of hope, though, that although they’re both distressed and upset and dealing in entirely different ways, they still gravitate towards each other.

Harry finds Nick humming along to a song on the radio when he gets home, David in the bouncer on the door, and he grabs Nick around the waist, pressing a soft kiss against his chin.

“Hello to you, too, Popstar,” Nick says with a grin, twisting around to see him. “What was that for?”

Harry shakes his head with a helpless smile, because he would never be more grateful for the decision he made last year, and continued to make, through break-ups and morning sickness and back pain. He and El are different, and he doesn’t begrudge her choice – would never – but he can’t help being thankful for that difference now.

“I want Daddy,” Nick announces when Harry and David come to meet him after he finishes work. Harry’s got a two hour break before he has to be back in the studios – well, okay, a one hour break that he and Zayn have conspired to make two – so he grabbed David off Lily and texted Nick to let them know they were going out for lunch, even though Nick finishes at 10am. They’ve learnt to be flexible with eating times.

“What?” Harry asks slowly, confused for a moment. Finchy is hysterical in the corner, as Fearne smirks at them, already taking over the radio.

“Someone called in today,” Matt explains through his laughter, “asking if Nick was going to be Daddy or if you had that.”

“It was a genuine question,” Nick protests, but Finchy giggles again.

“Yeah, but-” Finchy tries to control the laughter, “Nick said he was the Daddy, and-”

Harry gets the joke then, smiling dirtily at Nick with his eyebrows raised. “Daddy, hey?” he says lowly, and Nick smirks back at him. “Is that what you want? For me to call you daddy?”

“Oh my god,” Ian is groaning in the corner, sitting on a swivel chair. “I do not want to hear about your sex life!”

“But it’s such a good one,” Nick says loudly. “Everyone should hear about it.”

“Your child is just there,” Ian points out in mock disgust. “Control yourselves.”

Harry glances down at David, peacefully resting on his hips, and shrugs. “He’s going to hear worse,” he says, and Nick laughs at him helplessly.

“You’re going to scar your kid before it’s even one,” Finchy tells them, his grin wide. “Good thing you’re rich, Harry, because he’s going to need a hell of a lot of therapy.”

“Our kid will grow up wise to the ways of the world,” Nick says loftily, but the smirk is ever present on his face.

“Poor kid,” Ian laments, and Harry takes that as his cue to go.

“Right, we’re going to lunch,” he announces, grabbing Nick’s arm and pulling him out of the studio with a wave behind them.

“But it’s only ten o’clock!” Finchy yells from behind them, amusement clouding his voice.

“Whatever!” Harry calls back, and Nick is laughing too hard to be of much help at all.

“Shut it, you,” Harry says to Nick. Unsurprisingly, it doesn’t help.

“Serious question,” Harry says later, when they’re sitting in Harry’s car eating McDonalds because it turns out that nowhere is open for lunch at ten.

Nick looks up from where he is trying to persuade David to try a little of the burger bun.

“Hey,” Harry says, when he notices what he’s doing. “He’s not supposed to have that.”

Nick shrugs. “Kid will live,” he says airily. “Pretty certain my mum used to feed me McDonalds every day when I was little to make me shut up.”

“It’s amazing you were never fat,” Harry tells him cheerfully.

“I have an amazing metabolism, I’ll have you know-” Nick starts to say haughtily, sitting up so that he can stare down at Harry. Harry’s unimpressed, and interrupts.

“No, but seriously,” he says. “We need to decide what David will call us- Don’t start laughing, again, Jesus!”

Nick is doubled over, yet again. He pulls himself together enough to say, “You’re right. Jesus will do nicely, I think.”

Harry rolls his eyes while Nick guffaws some more. “You’re impossible,” he informs the supposedly older man.

He texts Louis. Why am I raising a baby with another child?

Louis’ response is almost instantaneous. Because you’re an even bigger idiot than Grimshaw

Harry doesn’t think that’s fair, especially when it sends Nick into another fit of hysterics when he reads it.

Harry tries desperate measures then, grabbing the car manual out of the glove box and whacking Nick over the head with it. It works. Nick stops laughing and starts pouting.

“What was that for?” he asks grumpily, and Harry stares at him, fighting as hard as he can to stop smiling.

“That,” Harry tells him primly, “was because I was under the impression my boyfriend was more than two years old.”

“Not fair,” Nick protests. “I think I’m at least five.”

Harry hits him again. “Help me decide what David’s going to call us,” he demands, but the smile is breaking through.

“So bossy,” Nick complains, rubbing his head with a scowl. “Who died and made you God?”

“Your mum,” Harry says, realising after he speaks that it’s likely to set Nick off again. But he holds up the manual as a threat and it seems to keep Nick somewhat at bay.

“So,” Harry says, hoping to actually have the conversation he wants. He takes a bite of his burger, and asks again, “What is David going to call us?”

Nick looks thoughtful now. “I don’t know,” he says. “Can’t we just, sort of, wait until he can decide? It’s not really- I mean, I think it’s his choice.”

Harry tilts his head, considering. “Okay,” he agrees slowly. “But we’ll have to start referring to each other as Daddy or something – don’t you dare laugh, Nick Grimshaw! – so that he gets used to the idea. Otherwise he’ll start calling us Nick and Harry, won’t he?”

“Does it work like that?” Nick asks, thankfully controlling his giggles this time. “Don’t they, just, sort of know who mummy and daddy is?”

“Then he’ll end up calling one of us mummy,” Harry replies in distress, and Nick’s smirk is immediate.

“Well, that’ll obviously be you,” Nick tells him, pinching his cheek. “You’re the girly one.”

“Am not,” Harry denies hotly.

It goes downhill from there.

Eleanor and Louis recover their relationship over time. Harry persuades Nick to go on double dates with them, something that gains a fair amount of media attention but is worth it when it makes El smile again and Harry gets to observe for himself how Louis and El cling on to each other all the time.

Louis tells Harry one day in private that: “Eleanor’s strong. She’ll be fine.”

“And you?” Harry prompts, concern making his forehead crease.

Louis smiles, tired but real, and says, “I’ll be okay,” and Harry believes him because he didn’t try and say he is, nor that he was never not okay, just says, “I will be,” and that’s a promise that he can keep. Harry will hold him to it, and he thinks Eleanor will too.

David stands for the first time at just over nine months. Nick’s at work, but Harry is lucky enough that Lily decides to bring David along to the studio for the morning before Nick picks him up at eleven. Harry’s being interviewed about the possibility of a new tour next year, and their latest album, as well as their recent success – again – at the Brits 2015, but he can see Lily and David behind the interviewer, playing on the floor next to a sofa. He keeps getting glared at by members of their team when he doesn’t pay attention to the interview, and Liam ever so helpfully pinches him every so often, but he’s grateful a second later-

“-and I think the album reflects us growing up, because it is a bit more mature-” Harry breaks off, because out of the corner of his eye, David grabs onto the sofa and pulls himself up to standing. The interviewer is looking at him curiously, before turning around, but Harry is already out of his seat and crossing the room.

By the time Harry reaches David, the boy is on the floor again, looking no different for his achievement, but Lily is grinning at him.

“Did you see that?” she asks excitedly, and Harry drops to his knees next to her, picking David up and smothering him with kisses.

“Clever, clever, boy,” he says, ignoring the instructions behind him to pause the interview. He’s smiling from ear to ear. “Are you going to do it again for me, little man?”

David’s shaking his head. He doesn’t really know what it means yet, and he’s still behind in terms of speaking – hasn’t said a single word, so far – but standing is amazing progress, and Harry’s thrilled.

“Harry, you need to carry on,” someone is telling him, but Louis has joined him now, laughing at his reaction.

“My little godson’s so clever,” Louis exclaims, and there’s Liam, kneeling down next to him and saying congratulations in that warm tone of his that means so much more than the words, and Harry’s soon surrounded by the entire of his band, touching him and David everywhere. David’s luckily used to it by now; it wasn’t an unusual occurrence on either their world tour or their promo trip.

“Boys,” another person says in exasperation, but Harry can just about see their interviewer, and he’s laughing and smiling, not looking too bothered by the display or interruption.

“Sorry!” Harry calls anyway, and David babbles something in agreement. “Love you,” he whispers to his baby. “Cutest thing in the world.”

“Apart from me,” Louis cuts in with a smirk, and Lily moves quickly, taking David before he gets squished in the impromptu One Direction wrestling match – or cuddle, if they’re honest – on the floor.

David’s first word comes when he’s eleven months old, older than most but just taking his time, Harry insists. His mum says he didn’t start talking until about then, either, so Harry reckons it’s a sign of intelligence. (Nick doesn’t agree, but then he’s just jealous).

David’s first word isn’t Daddy, or Dada, or anything of the sort, though.

Instead, he smiles beatifically up at Harry, and says Mama.

Nick’s in hysterics every time he’s asked about it or remembers for weeks after, while Harry tries to furiously train David to say Daddy, instead. It’s hard because he finds himself grinning every time David says anything at all, and it helps that David still isn’t aware of who he’s actually speaking to or anything yet. He’s just copying sounds. He calls Nick Mama a couple of times, too, even if the man won’t admit it.

Harry calls in when he’s on air and tells the story. Nick chokes and blushes, according to Finchy, and it’s such beautiful payback.

It’s not easy, this raising a child crap. Harry and Nick fight and swear at each other and they still run, as much as they try not to now. David keeps them up at night some of the time, and he refuses to walk on his own until he is well over a year – a sign of pure laziness, in Nick’s opinion. They go to work tired and fed up and missing their child, and Harry still has to travel alone with only one of Nick’s jumpers and a Skype address for company. It sucks.

Louis and Eleanor are still together, but their easy relationship is gone. They argue and discuss and have so many adult conversations now that Louis no longer bothers to deny them, but they make it work, because they love each other.

When David is two years old, he and Nick go to one of Harry’s concerts. David is wearing thick earmuffs to block out the noise, but Harry can see him smiling on Nick’s lap in their VIP box.

It makes it all worth it, and he sings ‘Little Things’ to them both at the end, rehashing an old favourite, because he loves them both to pieces. The lads tease him about being soppy, but all five of them stand facing David, mashing their parts together and mixing it up until it’s just Harry at the very end, crooning,

“I’m in loooove with you, and all your little things’

David’s and Nick’s smile are the brightest thing in the arena that night.