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The Baby.
It’s weird, Harry thinks, calling her that. She’s been The Bump for so long now and it’s weird.
She doesn’t have a name yet, though. They’d made a list, honestly they had, a long time ago, before Louis even got pregnant actually. It’s just; she isn’t any of those names. She could be a Rachel or an Ellie or any of the names they picked (36 is the actual amount) but the thing is, she just isn’t.
Louis had thought they’d been so dead set on a name but when she’d blinked awake for the first time, her big blue eyes staring up at his own, he couldn’t even bring himself to say it, the sound of it sour on his tongue, so now the flowery chalkboard plaque hung on the nursery door just reads ‘The Baby’, a chalky smudge around the edges from where it used to read ‘The Bump’.
It had been a little touch and go, with The Baby, what with her taking them by surprise on stir fry night and all. But she’s fine, she’s fine and she’s here and she’s theirs. And honestly, she’s only been alive for six days but Louis’ pretty sure she’s the most spoilt baby in ever, probably.
Everyone had been there - Harry’s mum and Gem and Robin and Louis’ mum and Dan and every one of his siblings, and then the boys and their other halves had all turned up in dribs and drabs throughout the afternoon and everyone had brought gifts for The Baby and kind words for Louis and congratulations for Harry and it was all just so, so lovely. And after Harry had laid The Baby in the hospital crib at the foot of the bed, smiling as her little fingers curled tightly around his thumb, and he’d slipped under the hospital blankets next to Louis in the huge hospital bed (definitely, 100% against the rules) Louis had cried for longer than he’s ever cried before, babbling to Harry about how much he loved him and their child and his family and their boys, and he’d fallen asleep like that, his cheek damp against Harry’s shirt and the only noise in the room the three of them breathing.
There’s more pink in the nursery now, a little less yellow. Not that she’s even spent a single night in there since they brought her home. Harry had insisted on bringing the cot Jay and Dan had bought her into their bedroom, just for the first couple of nights he’d said and its already been four and Louis is genuinely concerned for the future of their sex life, because he absolutely refuses to do anything except kiss Harry whilst The Baby is present (when is she not) (not that he resents that, of course) and also when they’d told the boys Louis was pregnant, Liam had just laughed and told him he’d never get shagged again.
Which, no.
“Is it really bad parenting to get someone to babysit after less than a week?”
Harry looks up at him from where he’s draped over the cot at the foot of their bed. “I-probably?”
“Oh, well that’s a shame. But okay.”
“I mean, maybe not. Why? What-were you planning something?” Harry asks him, wrapping his arms around The Baby and gently lifting her up, cradling her softly against his chest.
Louis shakes his head, watching as Harry pads over to him, socked feet thumping quietly against the carpet. “Dunno, really. Just, Niall had offered the other day, is all. And yano, its Friday tomorrow and it’s been a while,” He slides a hand up Harry thigh where he’s perched next to him on the bed, the other grasped between The Baby’s fingers. “Just though it might be nice.”
“I love you,” Harry tells him, leaning forward to catch Louis lips in a kiss. “And yeah, I think that would be very nice. I could cook? Unless you wanted to go out somewhere, I don’t mind.”
Louis hums, dancing his fingers along the line of Harry’s belt where he can feel it under his shirt. “Well, I was gonna suggest going out somewhere, thought you might be too tired to cook, but you do know how much I admire your culinary skills so if you’re up for it?” Harry nods, a grin tugging at his lips. “Good, great but can you put The Baby down please.”
“Um, yeah,” Eyebrows furrowing, Harry pushes himself up off the bed. “Why?” He asks, gently lowering The Baby into the cot, watching as Louis crawls down the bed towards him, parting his legs and motioning Harry towards him.
“Love you.” He smiles up at him, pulling Harry closer to him with a finger in his belt loop. “Love you, love you, love you. So much.” He giggles, falling backwards onto the bed, tugging Harry down with him. “I love you.” He whispers into Harry’s skin. “I love you and I love our baby and I love you.”
Harry laughs, hovering above Louis on his forearms. “Yeah, yeah, whatever, I guess you’re alright.”
“Shut up,” Louis laughs against his lips, hands sliding up under Harry’s shirt a little to rest against the warm skin of his hips. “You love me.”
“Yeah, I do.”
-
Niall arrives at 5 to 6 to pick up The Baby and Harry helps him carry the overnight bag out to the car, the rain falling hard, sticking his curls to his face. Louis watches from his sheltered position under the little porch above the door way as Harry leans down to greet the kids, dropping a kiss to Ida’s cheek as Niall straps The Baby into the back seat.
He’s sopping wet when he reaches the top step, his white t-shirt almost transparent and clinging obscenely to his torso and if Louis hadn’t spotted that grey hair last week, he’d feel 18 again. He’d never tell Harry, of course, but he feels so old around him. He’s going to be thirty this year and he won’t even let Harry talk about it because its dismal and depressing he’s emotional about it.
But then Harry says things to him, things like how much he loves the fact that he’s almost thirty and that he’s a dad now and hitting thirty means it’s been another whole 365 days that he’s been Harry’s and another whole 365 days that Harry’s been Louis’ and it just hits him how completely and utterly gone he is for this boy and he wouldn’t have it any other way.
“You alright?” Harry asks, a worried line between his brows.
“Smashing, actually,” Louis grins. “Just don’t want you to get hypothermia.”
Harry laughs, elbowing the door shut as he backs Louis up against it, watching as he reaches out a hand to brush over Harry’s stomach, muscles going taut at the sensation. “Gonna take this off?” He asks, taking the bottom of Harry’s shirt between his fingers.
“I don’t think I will, actually.” Harry grins down at him, the ends of his hair dripping onto the laminate flooring beneath them.
Louis nods, knocking his forehead against Harry’s. “I do appreciate that, I feel rather inferior to you at the moment with all this baby weight on my hips, can’t deal with you swanning around the place shirtless like a Gucci model.”
“Hey,” Harry nudges him with his hip, forcing Louis to look up at him. “You’re-I know you care about that, yeah, but I really honestly don’t, you know that right? You look, amazing, always amazing, incredible, alright. I know-I know there’s gonna be pictures and gossip and stuff, the usual but I just, I love you so much okay and I need you to believe me on this one, can you do that?” He asks, Louis’ face between his hands, eyes staring intently at him. “Please.”
“Yeah,” Louis breathes. “I can do that.”
Surging forward, Harry presses his lips up against Louis’, pressing him harder up against the door, the corner of the letter box digging uncomfortably into his side. “Alright,” He whispers against Louis lips as he pulls away. “I’m gonna go change, okay, dinners nearly ready if you wanna go sit down?”
“Love you.” Louis tells him, watching as he jogs upstairs. “Don’t be long.”
-
Two and a half bottles of red later and Louis is curled up in the corner of the sofa, giggling like a school girl, at Harry’s awful impression of his sister in labour.
“Stop, Harry, oh god.” Louis clutches at his stomach as he laughs. “I’m honest to god gonna piss myself if you carry on.”
“Sorry, sorry,” He giggles, swinging his feet up to rest in Louis’ lap. “Y’want the last bit?” He asks, tipping the almost empty wine bottle towards Louis glass.
He nods, shuffling closer to Harry as he takes a sip. “I am so tired.” He yawns, rubbing at his eyes with the heel of his palm.
“Wanna head up to bed? Try and get a good twelve hours in? Niall isn’t bringing The Baby back until 2.”
Louis groans, dropping his empty wine glass onto the floor beside the sofa and laying down before throwing an arm over his eyes. “Was hoping you’d fuck me tonight, not gonna lie.”
Harry laughs, placing his glass down onto the table, shuffling around so he’s pressed up against Louis where he’s laid out along the sofa. “I’ll be honest with you, probably couldn’t get it up if I tried. I’m pretty knackered myself, love.”
“You’re just pretty full stop.”
Smiling, Harry presses a kiss under his jaw. “So are you, my love. So are you and I love you.” He grins, peppering Louis’ throat with little kisses before sucking the beginnings of a bruise into the dip of his collar bone.
“Sleep.” Louis mumbles, turning his body into Harry’s so they’re pressed together shoulder to knee.
“Yeah,” Harry nods, smiling to himself as Louis tucks his head into his chest. “Sleep.”
-
When he wakes up the next morning there’s a dead weight body draped over his left side and a cold cup of tea to his right. There’s a thin strip of golden sunlight streaked up Harry’s face, highlighting the few freckles littered across his nose, prominent from the time he’d spent it the garden with The Baby a couple of days ago, Harry sprawled across a towel on his stomach as he watched her, amazed by the grass and the birds and the insects and Louis had just stared, fascinated, from the kitchen window for so long that the washing up water had gone cold and he really couldn't get the bubbles off his fingers fast enough before he’d joined the two of them in the sun.
He watches him sleep for a little while before getting up to putter about in the bathroom for a while, peeing and brushing his teeth, and then heading down to make the two of them tea. Harry is awake when he returns, propped up against the headboard bleary eyed and smiley, hair sticking up every which way, a lazy grin spreading across his face as he notices Louis in the doorway.
“Morning, love,” He drawls, slow and gravely. “You made tea?”
Louis nods, placing both mugs down on the dresser beside the door before jumping onto the bed, star fishing out on top of Harry, trapping him under the duvet.
“I did make tea. But first,” He grins down at him, rutting against Harry’s leg. “I think you have some unfinished business from last night.”
Harry hums, wriggling his arms free to drape them across Louis’ waist, fingers dipping slightly below the waist band of his sleep pants. “Is that so?” He asks, cocking an eyebrow.
“I mean, if you don’t want to,” Louis starts, pushing himself up so he’s straddling Harry’s thighs.
“No,” He laughs, grabbing Louis and flipping the two of them over, looming above him. “I really, really do.”
Grinning up at him, Louis surges up to capture his mouth with his own, hot and dirty and amazing and maybe, he thinks as Harry pulls his sleep pants down his legs and flings them somewhere near the door, that when Niall gets here with Ida and the kids at two, they’ll probably still be curled around each other in bed, and Niall will just scoff and put The Baby to bed while he chatters on about something Zayn did when he and Perrie came over for tea the other day and then they’ll stay here, until it gets dark and The Baby gets hungry.
And then Harry wraps a hand around his dick, and well, he doesn’t think about much after that.