Archive of Our Own ^beta

It’s a random movie that he just happens to catch while switching through the channels that first gives him the idea. Actually, it’s not even an idea at that point; it’s a thought - a fraction of a thought more like it - there one second and gone the next.

He’s staying up late, waiting for Louis to come back from the library where he and some of his classmates are working on the final details of a project they're presenting the very next day.

Harry doesn’t normally stay up, really, he likes to go to bed eleven at the latest. But he always wakes up when Louis comes home anyway, half dosing and half listening to him patter around before he crawls into bed and kisses Harry goodnight. 

Louis been feeling a bit under the weather lately though, sore throat and whatnot, so Harry’s made a pot of soup that he’s gonna reheat and eat with him once Louis gets home. The idiot never eats that late unless Harry makes him. 

A fond smile slips over his lips. He uses the term idiot in the most loving way - only when Louis forgets to take care of himself or does something particularly stupid.  Like how he insists on not wearing a jacket whenever the sun peeks out lately, even though it’s only April. Late April, it’s nearly summer! Louis protests whenever Harry points this out, because he’s that kind of person.

It’s his own fault he’s developing a cold, really. Idiot.

Still, Harry takes care of him as best as he can, making sure he drinks his tea with honey and forcing him to eat at least two oranges a day, because vitamin C works wonders.
And soup, of course, with vegetables and herbs and stuff that Harry’s heard are good for sore throats and strengthens your immune system.

Louis’ running later than expected though - he assured him he’d be home by midnight, and it’s currently half past. Harry has just finished watching a rerun of an old episode of CSI, and is halfarsedly looking for something else that will be interesting enough to keep him awake while he waits.

Actually, he should text Louis and make sure everything’s alright.

He puts the remote down and grabs his phone, finding that Louis already texted him ten minutes ago. Rolling his eyes at himself, he switches his phone off of silent and reads the text.

Dunno if you’re still up, but I’m running a bit late.
Should be done within half an hour ! xx

                                                                                     Text me when you leave the bus stop?
                                                                                     I’ll heat up the food so it’s warm when you get here xx

Will do xx

Harry locks his phone and puts it on the armrest of the couch, picking up the remote again to continue his search, but for some reason his thumb remains hovering over the button as he watches what unfolds on the screen instead.

There’s a couple, and they’re fighting, screaming at each other. She even hurls a plate towards his face, but he ducks and it shatters against the wall instead. The telly’s on mute - it always is unless he’s actually watching something - so he’s got no idea what they’re arguing about, but the man is pointing at the girl’s obviously pregnant belly, and she looks both disgusted and enraged with whatever he’s saying.

She puts her hands protectively over her belly while the guy storms towards her, and Harry blinks out of his haze, because he’s not one for violence, and especially not violence against kids or pregnant women. Before he has the chance to press the button however, the man grabs the girls maroon button-up shirt and rips it, revealing a gray, clothed bodysuit as he yells some more and she sinks down to the floor crying. 

It’s a fake pregnant belly, and for a split second he wonders how that feels like to wear. It certainly looks real.

He shrugs to himself and sighs as the man keeps yelling. It's a bit too much, too dramatic and it's not like he knows what the story is anyway, so he continues looking for something actually interesting and eventually settles on TLC and say yes to the dress.

Louis texts him twenty minutes later, when this one girl is trying to choose between a gorgeous white dress, and a horrible champagne-colored one, and he just needs to see which one she chooses. The result is a very happy bride in a very ugly dress, and barely lukewarm soup for Louis as he locks himself in.

Louis sniffs several times as he walks over to where Harry is standing stirring the soup, and presses up against his back with another one. Harry hands him the pack of Kleenex.

“Thanks love.” Louis says as he grabs it, pressing a chaste kiss to the dip where Harry’s shoulder and neck meets before turning to blow his nose.

“You sound even worse.” Harry says with a frown, stepping towards Louis and waiting till he’s thrown the tissue in the bin before pulling him in by the waist. “Are you feeling alright?”

“I’m fine.” Louis assures, rolling his eyes and batting at Harry when he presses his wrist against Louis’ forehead. “And if you tell me I don’t look fine I’ll slap you, I swear.”

Louis looks sick - apart from his red nose and cheeks, his face is rather pale, and the bags under his eyes are more prominent than usual. The fact that he’s been working so hard with the group project instead of getting the rest he sorely needs obviously isn’t helping at all either. Still; “You always look fine.”

It earns him another eye roll, but also a chaste kiss, so Harry’s rather pleased.

--

Of course Louis has nearly lost his voice when he wakes up the next day. Harry’s never seen a more whiney body language in his entire life. He tells Louis this, and gets an orange thrown at his head.

Louis has the group presentation today though, at two, and he’s absolutely determined to get his voice back by then. For breakfast, he drinks a bottle of water with ten effervescent vitamin-C tablets and two Advil’s, followed by a huge cup of tea with five tablespoons of honey.
He also wraps two scarves around his neck and absolutely refuses to say a single word all morning, and no matter how much Harry tries to tease something out of him, the only thing he gets is a post-it with ‘Bad boyfriend’ written on it stuck to his forehead.

Harry does feel a bit bad for him though, so he runs him a hot bath just before he leaves for his own classes, presses a kiss to his cheek and wishes him good luck.
He’s got one foot out of the door when Louis’ phone goes off, and Louis rushes over to him with pleading eyes, ‘Mummy’ flashing across the screen.

“Jay!” Harry answers cheerily, stepping back inside and quickly glancing at his wristwatch. He really doesn’t have any minutes to spare, so he has to cut her greeting short. “Listen, I’m kinda in a rush to get to school and Louis’ almost lost his voice, and has to save what he has for a presentation later today. Did you want me to pass along a message?”

“Oh, no, I was just looking for a chat, wanting to check in and all. But hand him the phone for a second will you?”

“Sure.” Harry agrees. “I have to run to the bus, but call me on my phone after, yeah? I’ll give the report!” Jay’s laughter rings through the speaker as Harry hands the phone over, before it’s muted by Louis’ ear, and a fond smile is settling across his lips.
Harry probably shouldn’t, but he kisses him softly on the lips anyway. He pulls back to softly comb his fingers through Louis’ matted fringe and push it away from his face, just as Louis’ smile turns into a grumpy scoff.
He doesn’t need to hear it to know that Jay is teasing Louis about how whiny he gets whenever he‘s sick - and probably also telling him to not be too much of a pain in the arse - so he just laughs as he leaves, feeling Louis glare attached to his back.

It’s five minutes into the bus ride that Jay calls, and they chat about this and that before Jay eventually asks if she can come for a visit next weekend.

“Yeah, ‘course!” Harry agrees easily. “Louis and I both work Saturday, so Sunday would be the best, if that works for you?”

“It does. Only me and Dan though, the girl’s are at Mark’s.” That’s a bit of a relief - though he feels bad for thinking that - but their flat isn’t exactly spacious, and it’s just a bit too much with all of them there.

“We have to come visit you soon as well though, we both miss the girls. Been ages, hasn’t it?”

“It has.” She agrees with a barely-there sigh. “But I know how busy the two of you are.” Harry hums, trying to push the thought of upcoming exams and deadlines out of his head. They’ve still got over a month to go.

“Do you want dinner on Sunday?” He asks instead.

“That would be lovely Harry.”

“I made this beef stew the other week that was really good, if you’re up for it? It’s got beans and paprika, garlic, onions-”

“Oh, I miss onions, the babies wo-” Jay interrupts wistfully before she cuts herself short and the line goes dead silent, giving Harry the opportunity to process what she actually said.

“..Babies?” He finally asks.

“Um. No?” He lets out a breath of a laugh, which makes Jay mutter something. He’d bet a hundred pounds on it being a curse word. “We wanted to tell you two together, this weekend.” She explains finally. “I’d ask you not to tell Lou, but..” Harry laughs properly this time; he’s shit at keeping secrets and they both know it.

“Yeah, sorry. Babies, though?”

“Twins.” She replies hesitantly, word drawn out. “But that’s all I’m telling you mister! I‘ll see you Sunday, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Harry agrees, getting up from his seat and over to the doors just as the bus halts to a stop. “Hey, and congratulations!” The sound of her soft laugh is nearly drowned out in the noise of students exiting and entering the bus.

“Thank you. Talk to you soon. Give Louis my love!”

--

Harry tells Louis as soon as he sees him. Literally.

He’s having a piss with the bathroom door open when Louis comes home, walking by on his way to their bedroom, and Harry immediately calls out that Jay’s pregnant.

“My mother’s what?” Louis screeches, voice rusty and painful-sounding.

“Pregnant.” Harry repeats, shaking off the last few drops and tucking himself back in.

“I- what??”

Harry figures Louis needs a second to process, so he lets the silence linger while he washes his hands. Once dried, he steps into the hall and kisses Louis‘ cheek, making him blink out if his haze. “How did the presentation go?”

“Fine.” Louis croaks. “Hurt like hell but we were well prepared at least.” He starts moving again, and Harry follows him into the bedroom and watches as he slips out of his clothes and into his onepiece.

“You should probably go back on a vocal rest.” Harry suggests and Louis nods in agreement. “Do you want some tea? Soup?”

“Ice?” Louis requests, which makes Harry frown. His throat must be really bad then.

“’Course.”

They leave the bedroom together, Louis going for the couch and Harry going for the freezer. Hopefully, there’s some left of the chocolate one, or else they’ll be stuck eating the lemon sorbet that neither of them like. There’s not much, sadly, just a lump in the bottom surrounded by melted, then refrozen, ice cream and Harry frowns at it before grabbing the lemon one as well, and two spoons from the drying rack.

Louis is curled up on one end of the couch, looking lost in his own thoughts, but also small and soft in the most adorable way, and Harry has to remind himself of the fact that Louis is still sick and contagious and he very much does not want to catch it.

He offers up the chocolate ice cream, mouth literally falling open when Louis shakes his head and reaches for the other pint instead. Louis grabs his phone and types something before handing it over. Can’t really taste much anyway it says, which makes Harry frown; half because he feels bad for his boyfriend, but maybe even more so out of guilt for the jolt of pleasure that settles in his belly at the fact that he get’s the good ice cream all to himself.

--

By the time Sunday comes around, Louis is doing much better. It’s easy to see that he’s still tired; body not having had the time to fully recharge with his hectic schedule, but they had sex on Friday, and Harry’s not feeling sick at all, so at least it’s not contagious anymore.

Harry makes the stew they’re having for dinner - without the onions, off course - while Louis is on vacuum and setting the table-duty.
He’s pretty sure they’d both rather be lazing on the sofa, or perhaps take a nice, long snooze, but it’s not often that their parents come visiting. And the floors really did need a swipe. Louis hadn’t agreed, arguing that his mum was used to his messes anyway - and when that didn’t work he’d tried to pull the sick-card, but it hadn’t taken more than a pointed glare from Harry for him to sulkily make his way to their closet and pull out the needed supplies.

He’s not doing a proper job though, Harry can tell by the way the vacuum makes a monotone sound for minutes in a row every now and then, but he figures some cleaning is better than none at all, so he keeps his mouth shut and slices the red peppers into neat squares.

They arrive fifteen minutes later, just in time for Harry to have popped his head into the living room and made sure it actually looks decent. It does.

Jay greets them both with hello darling’s, kisses on their cheeks and warm smiles, while Dan gives them short hugs with the standard two claps on the back and a ‘how’ve you been?’

They quickly arrange themselves on the couch and spoon up portions of rice and stew before lapsing into silence.

“Alright.” Jay laughs after half a minute, pushing some hair back from her face and glancing over at Dan. “So, we’re having a baby! Well, two babies, but.”

“Congratulations mum.” Louis says genuinely, and Harry gives him a soft look, though Louis doesn’t turn to catch it. He knows Louis has had mixed feelings, but he’s glad he seems to have come to terms with it.

“Really.” Harry adds with a nod. “Are you excited?” He makes sure to address Dan as well, who nods and smiles around a mouthful.

“We are.” Jay replies, a soft smile curling over her lips. Harry can feel his own expression melting, just by looking at the happiness radiating from her. He wonders if it gets any less exciting, with this being her fifth pregnancy, but he doesn’t dare to ask in case it comes across as rude.

“Another set of identicals, then?” Louis asks.

“No, they’re fraternal this time actually!”

“One of each.” Dan adds.

“Oh. Wow, that’s great!” Harry says, looking over at Louis who’s nodding as well.

“’Bout time you got me that little brother I’ve always been buggering you for!” The smile on his face doesn’t sit quite right though.

They talk for a while, Jay filling them in on the details of both the pregnancy and how Louis’ sisters are doing.

Jay is barely three months along, but she’s got a solid bump on her belly already, what with it being two in there.
She puts her hand on it a lot, rubbing slow circles or just resting it there as she‘s talking, but she doesn’t seem aware of it. It comes naturally, he thinks, his mum once told him that it’s a subconscious form of protection, as well as the best way for them to show affection, seeing as it’s the closest they come to touch or hold the child.

“Do you feel anything yet?” Harry asks, eyes glued to the swell of her belly. Only after the questions’ out does he realize he rudely interrupted the middle of Dan’s story. He doesn’t seem to bothered though, and Jay only smiles warmly at him, so he thinks he’s forgiven.

“There’s no movement or anything like that yet.” She says. “But I can still feel that I’m pregnant. Just with the way my body behaves in general.. It’s hard to explain.”

Harry nods like he understands, although he doesn’t. “Is it different? Like with the different pregnancies?” He asks instead. It seems he’s lost his ability to properly form sentences.

“Yes, it is. But the differences are bigger the further along you get though. Like, with Louis for example,” she shifts her gaze to him, her entire face softening. “he moved around a lot, especially at night, or whenever I laid down for a while, really. They had issues finding his gender at the ultrasound, ‘cause he wouldn’t stay still. Lottie was a bit calmer and Fizzy hardly moved at all just a few kicks here and there.”

“What about the twins?” He asks, before he frowns, and adds. “The ..old ones?”

“They were similar to Lottie, I think, except for towards the end. But I’m guessing that’s because it got a bit styffed in there.”

“The walls are closing in on us, we need to escape!” Louis shouts dramatically, making the rest of them laugh as he crouches himself together and pushes at the air. “No, but I remember when you were pregnant with them.” He adds a moment later, straightening to fill his plate with more rice. “Feeling them kick against my hand.”

Jay smiles at him, seeming lost in thought for a moment before she shakes her head and focuses back on Harry. “The symptoms are different as well. I had horrible morning sickness with Lottie, but haven’t had it with anyone else. And different cravings; I could eat my weight in pineapples when I was pregnant with you, Louis.”

“Are you having any cravings this time around?” Louis ask, practically stealing the words from the tip of Harry’s tongue. Jay laughs, while Dan rolls his eyes.

“It’s a bit weird-” She starts, but Dan cuts her off.

“It’s a bit disgusting is what it is.” He corrects. Jay glares at him, rather fondly.

“It’s not that bad.”

“White bread.” Dan says loudly, his expression anything but amused. “Butter. Chocolate powder. Mozzarella. Grapes. Occasionally accompanied with a drizzling of syrup.”

“That is quite disgusting mum.” Louis says, and Harry can’t do anything but agree.

“Don’t knock it till you try it!”

Later, after Jay and Dan are long gone, and they’ve both gone to bed, Louis puts down their ipad with a loud sigh. Harry knows Louis well enough to understand that Louis wants to talk, so he reads to the end of the paragraph in his book, before putting in the bookmark and placing it on his nightstand.

He doesn’t say anything, just turns to face Louis.

“I dunno. It’s just weird, you know?” Louis finally says. He’s laying on his back, eyes on the opposite wall. Harry hums. “It’s just.. My mum’s having babies, again. Like- Like, I’m 24 myself, and kids aren’t that far off in the future for me. And just, the fact that my children and my siblings might only be a few years apart..”

Those words does something to Harry, his stomach swirling. They’ve talked about children before, the two of them, but not seriously. They’ve just mentioned how they both want kids - two or three or four - and that they want to be young parents and that it doesn’t really matter how they get them. But still, Louis saying it like this, like it’s something certain and in the not-so-distant future.
Yeah, it definitely does something to him.

“I get it.” Harry says softly. “If my mum was pregnant I’d proper freak out.”

“Your mum’s older than mine though. And you’re her youngest. It’s different.” His mouth is in a frown, eyebrows pulled together. “I mean, it shouldn’t be that big of a deal? She has nine year olds, so the age gap isn’t even that big, and Dan doesn’t have any children of his own. Like, I get it.” Harry senses a but It’s not the first time they’ve discussed this, but Louis seems more uneasy now than he did a few days ago. It might be because he’s seen it now; seen his mum’s swollen belly and talked about it properly - it does make it more real. “I’m not even surprised, really.” Louis mumbles.

“You’re allowed to react though.” Harry says as Louis finally turns to face him. “It’s not like this doesn’t affect you.” He gets a smile in return, but it looks kind of bittersweet.

“It’s not like mum should have to ask me for permission to get pregnant though.”

“No.” Harry agrees. “But you’re still allowed to have an opinion on it.” Louis sighs, but remains quiet for a while. If Harry couldn’t see his face, he’d think the conversation was over, but as it is, it’s easy to see that Louis’ still thinking about it, that he still has something to say. 

Harry strokes his fingers up and down Louis’ upper arm, and waits.

“I think maybe it’s because it’s a boy?” He admits finally. “Like, I always imagined the first baby boy in the family would be mine? That it would be an extra special, new experience somehow, since I only have sisters.” He pulls a face. “Does that even make sense?”

“Yeah, it does.” Louis sighs, burying his face into his pillow.

“Fuck, I’m so selfish, aren’t I? I should be happy for her, for them-”

“You are.” Harry interrupts, because that’s one thing he’s sure of. “You’re just processing. Adapting. Getting used to the idea.” He pulls at Louis, and he comes easily, curling up against Harry’s chest.

“It’s just weird.” He mumbles, somewhat dejectedly.

“It is.” Harry agrees. “But also kinda nice.” He can feel it against his skin, the way Louis’ lips twitches, a small smile curling over them.

“But also kinda nice.”

--

Harry can’t stop thinking about it, is the thing.

Sure, he’s always loved babies and kids, and thinking about it, he’s probably always had a soft spot for pregnant woman as well; the fact that they’re carrying another life - a tiny human being - inside of them never ceases to amaze him.

But not to this extent though. And not.. not like this.

It’s like- He doesn’t- It’s not- 

…he kinda wants to experience it himself?

He’s always wanted children. Always wanted to be a father, always wanted to watch someone grow up, watch them and care for them and love them. He wants to be there for the first smile and the first laugh. Wants to witness the first steps and the first words.

But that’s not what he’s thinking about these days, not what he imagines or dreams of or yearns for. Well, not only that, at least.

Because, for some reason, all he can think about is how it would feel like to be pregnant.

He keeps playing what Jay said over and over in his head; about how your body can tell you’re pregnant, how it feels different, how you feel different, and he just..

He wonders.

He lasts for three days, before he sits down with a cup of tea on a Wednesday evening while Louis is at work, and calls his mum.

“Hello darling!” She answers cheerily. It makes him relax into his chair, even though he weren’t really aware of being tense in the first place.

“Hi mum.”

“How are you?”

He’s fully prepared for the smalltalk, filling each other in on what’s happened since they last had a chat. He even likes it - finds a sort of comfort in it - which is why he’s not prepared when he blurts out: “How did you know you were pregnant?”

The line goes silent for a few seconds before his mum lets out a breathy laugh. “I got worried there, for a second.” She says. “Before I realized that you can’t actually get pregnant..” Her tone goes up a bit at the end of her sentence, as if she’s open to Harry telling her that he’s lied his entire life and does in fact have a uterus. It startles a laugh out of him.

“No! No. And neither can Louis, before you get that idea.”

“Alright. So where is this coming from then?” She hesitates for a second before she continues, “Is Gemma..?”

“What? No! Well, at least not that I know of. C’mon, we both know she’d tell you before me.” He rubs a hand over his face, shifting in his chair. “It’s Jay, actually. Louis’ mum?”

“Oh. Wow, that’s- wow.”

“Yeah, um, she’s expecting twins. I dunno if I’m allowed to tell you, actually, we just found out this weekend.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t go blabbering.” She assures, teasingly. Harry ignores her.

“Just got me thinking, is all. Like, when she talked about it and how every pregnancy is different, it made me wonder how it was for you?” He shrugs, as if she can see him, it makes it easier for him to play it off as casual. She probably sees right through it though, what with how he practically threw the question at her the second she picked up the phone, but she thankfully doesn’t mention it.

“Well, every pregnancy is different.” She agrees. “But Jay would probably know more about that than me.” Harry hums in agreement, but otherwise stays quiet. “I had such a sweet tooth with Gems. Could eat my own weight in chocolate, I swear.”

Harry laughs, surprised. She’s never really been that into sweets as long as he can remember, apart from the occasional piece of dark chocolate with her coffee. “Really?”

“Yeah, god: Chocolate, marshmallows, cookies- the more sugar the better. Gained a few extra pounds from that habit, that’s for sure.”

“What else?” He asks, hoping his impatience can be masked as curiosity.

“Well, Gemma was a pretty calm baby, right from the start. She didn’t move around too much, just some kicking and hiccups. She was overdue, so it was a bit heavy the last few weeks, made my feet and back hurt, but nothing too bad.” She hums to herself. “It’s easy to forget the small details, you know? Even if they seem so important at the time, it all sort of just fades away. New memories taking their place, I guess.”

“So have you completely forgotten everything with me then?” He asks jokingly, though his chest gives a achy jolt at the thought. She only laughs though.

“I haven’t no, but even if I had; I did write pregnancy journals for you both. I’m sure it’s in the attic somewhere. We could look for it next time you come home, if you’d like?”

“Yes.” He agrees easily, nodding along. “Yeah, that would be fun.”

She.s queit for a moment, and Harry doesn’t dare interrupt her train of thoughts. “You’re the reason I don’t eat plums anymore, did I ever tell you that? It made me so nauseous when I was pregnant with you, and I just haven’t been able to stomach them after.” He didn’t know that, and it makes him laugh, though he throws in a apology for good measure.

Another comfortable silence settles over them, as Harry drains the rest of his lukewarm tea. He wipes a stray drop from the corner of his mouth before he breaks it. “Do you miss it? Being pregnant I mean?”

His mum sighs, but not in a annoyed or tired kind of way, more like.. contemplating. Probably. “Yes and no?” She finally settles on, taking a brief pause before she continues. “I’m done with having children, you know, and - obviously - pregnancy leads to babies, so I don’t miss it in that sense? It’s a part of life that I’m very thankful I got to experience, but it’s not something I’d want to do again.” Harry hums to let her know he’s following. “But, like, there’s nothing like being pregnant. The connection you get to your baby and the constant presence and closeness. It’s hard to explain, but it’s- it’s a very special feeling and it does bring a lot of joy and that’s something that I’ve missed every now and then. Just. Yeah. Does that make any sense to you?”

“I guess.” Harry says, trying not to frown. “Not really though, and it never will, will it? It’s probably the kind of thing you have to experience yourself to understand .”

“Yeah, it sort of is.” She replies, her voice kinda soothing - the tone she takes on when she sympathizes with someone. It makes a lump form in his throat, and he coughs to try and remove it. “As for how I knew- that’s what you wanted to know, wasn’t it? I think you just.. kind of do? Like, you notice it in the small changes your body makes. It’s- It’s sort of like when you’re coming down with something? And you’re not sick yet, there’s no nausea or fever or sore throat, but you can still tell that your body is off, somehow?”

“That does make sense.” He’s certainly experienced that a few times, the knowledge that something’s happening inside of you, you just can’t pinpoint it yet.

“Albeit, a bit more pleasant.” She adds, which makes Harry chuckle.

They stay silent for a moment - his mum is probably waiting for his next question, but he doesn’t really have any, not right now anyhow.
Cuing in on that, she asks how things are going with school and work and Louis and him in general instead, and they chat for another half hour before he reluctantly tells her he has a paper he needs to work on, and they say their goodbyes.

As Harry walks to the bedroom to get his computer, he stops by the mirrored closet in the hallway. Giving himself a once-over, he turns so his profile is to the mirror and juts his hips out. With a heavy exhale, he blows his belly out - just so - and lets his hand slowly smooth down the fabric of his t-shirt, falling to a stop right below his navel.
He can only produce the tiniest bit of a swell this way, but combined with a little imagination…

He lets out a soft sigh before straightening his back and exiting the hall. He can’t really let his thoughts wander right now, he’s got a paper to write.

--

They manage to visit his mum a couple of weeks later.

They leave after Harry’s shift at work Thursday night - catching the bus at nine thirty-five and arriving in Holmes Chapel just before midnight. Harry’s mum picks them up at the bus stop, giving them each warm hugs before ushering them to her car and back home, where Harry’s stepdad is waiting with grilled cheese sandwiches and tea.

They can’t stay very long, leaving again Saturday morning as they’re both working from two to six that day - but it still gives them the entirety of Friday to sleep in and laze around. And, of course, to go through Harry’s baby stuff - as his mum had told him she was certain the journal woult be among them.

--

Friday morning begins with a spectacular lay-in in Harry’s old bedroom - now turned guestroom - and continues with a trot down to the kitchen for a late breakfast. The house is empty for the time being, as his mum and Robin are at work, but they both feel very much at home in the house, so it’s no hassle to find what they want.
After an incredibly healthy and appropriate breakfast - pasta with bacon and a packet of ‘four cheese’ sauce - Louis decides they should take advantage of the bathtub and Harry doesn’t really see any reason the disagree.
They grab two cups of tea and a cinnamon scented candle, and soak themselves in the tub for a good, long hour, refilling it twice so the water doesn’t go cold.

The last ten or so minutes are spent with Louis in Harry’s lap, doing something that’s not very appropriate, but Harry refuses to feel bad about having a wank with his boyfriend, even if it does happen in his mother's bathtub.

“Tell me once again why we’re doing this?" Louis is being whiney, and Harry refuses to acknowledge it. They’re headed for the attic to go through Harry’s boxes - under the false pretence of sorting through stuff and maybe throwing away some of the half-broken toys and unnecessary clatter that has gathered up over the years.

“So mum won't have to.” He replies. He’s rather eager to get his hands on the journal, but he contains it, as Louis has no idea this is the main goal of the entire trip. He should perhaps feel bad about not letting Louis in on the entire truth, but.. Besides, the only reason Louis is even protesting in the first place is because he’s craving sweets and Harry picked going through the attic over making him a batch of cookies.

Louis groans, his feet dragging loudly along the floor as they come to a stop underneath the attic hatch. “I can feel my blood sugar dropping I swear, I’m almost getting dizzy over here.”

“I told you to eat a fruit.” Harry replies, jumping up a little to grab the handle and pulling the stairs down.

“I don’t want a fucking fruit.” Louis mumbles over the squeak of the wood. Harry rolls his eyes at him. God, he’s such a child at times.

“Suit yourself then.” After making sure the stairs are in the right position, he climbs up, turning the lights on as he reaches the floor. The dim light doesn’t really do much for the furthest right corner - which is where Harry’s stuff is located - but there should be an extra lamp for him to plug in somewhere.

He’s just sat down in front of a pile of old clothes when Louis emerges, minutes later.
He’s got a bag of salted peanuts in one hand and a bottle of coke in the other, and he doesn’t even look at Harry as he sits down opposite him. He stays silent, munching on his nuts as Harry sorts through the clothes, deciding to give away almost half of them to charity - or something, as they won't fit him anyway, and makes no move to help as Harry digs out and goes through boxes of school books and childhood toys and comics.

When Harry reveals a box of baby clothes, however, Louis seems to drop his grumpy act.

“Now would you look at that!” He exclaims, sucking his fingers clean of salt and wiping them hastily on his sweats before he grabs an overall from the box. It’s dark blue with lots of small pockets, some of which hold toddler sized plastic tools. “I can imagine you felt like the proper man in the house strolling around with these on, banging the hammer on random stuff and proclaiming yourself a handyman.”

“They’re cool!” Harry protests, making a grab for them just as Louis pulls them out of reach. He’s seen pictures of himself with those on, proud grin all over his face and captions in his mum’s handwriting about how he refused to take them off. “And we’re definitely saving those for our own kids.” He adds as he lunges for them, Louis laughing too much to react in time.

“We’ll see about that.” He responds dryly, but Harry knows Louis agrees deep down.

There’s only ten or so garments in the box - as well as his first pairs of shoes, which Harry held up and proclaimed look Louis, these are just about your size!, resulting in a handful of nuts being thrown at his face - but they’re all very cute or funny and obviously goes straight back in it, waiting to be brought out again when he has a son of his own. The thought makes his stomach twist in a way he’s not sure is entirely pleasant, as he puts the lid back on and hands it to Louis so he can stack it behind himself while they sort the rest out.

They go through the last of his boxes together, but the thing is, the baby journal isn’t there. It hits Harry with a wave of sudden sadness - a lump settling in his throat so quickly he almost jolts in surprise.

It’s- He- He feels drained somehow, deflated, and it must be apparent in his expression as well.

“Hey, babe, you alright?” Louis ask, carding a hand through his hair.

“Yeah.” Harry replies as naturally as he possibly can, blinking a couple of times and shrugging the hand off, before carefully putting the toys back into the box they just emptied. He can see Louis frowning at him from the corner of his eye but pays it no mind, focusing at the task at hand instead.

Louis doesn’t press further, and Harry loves him for it. Instead, they restack the boxes, throw the things he’s decided to get rid of down the stairs and goes back down.

Mum and Robin takes them out for dinner. It’s nothing fancy, just a small cozy restaurant in their town center that they‘ve been to hundreds of times before, but the food’s just as good as he remembers. They take their time, having both dinner and dessert, and they - with the exception of Robin, who is driving - even share a bottle of white.

His mum asks about the attic, but Harry only gives a vague reply, which prompts Louis to pick up his slack and talk about the overall they found with great enthusiasm.

“I’ve got some pictures of him in them back home.” His mum replies, making Louis face light up with a grin. Harry sighs deeply, rolling his eyes with a smile tucked into the corner of his mouth as she promises to dig out the albums once they get back. It makes a small bubble of hope expand in Harry’s chest, but he tries his best to ignore it, lest he gets disappointed again.

Pleasant surprises are the loveliest thing in the world, Harry’s pretty certain. Along with three photo albums that Harry has looked through countless of times, his mum is carrying a grey and purple book. It’s old and it’s worn and in the smack-dab middle of the cover are the words ‘my pregnancy journal’.
Harry bites at his bottom lip to keep himself from grinning like an idiot. His mum hands it over with a subtle wink.

The journal is not as filled out as it would’ve been had Harry been the one writing it. The first three weeks are literally empty, and on the double page marked week four it only says ‘found out I’m expecting’.
Disappointment must show on Harry’s face as his mum places a gentle hand on his arm and assures him it get’s more detailed throughout the weeks.

It does. Thank God.

There are short paragraphs each week until they hit week fourteen; and Harry is met with what is essentially an essay of information.

His mum had a doctors appointment in the beginning of that week and they got to hear his heartbeat for the first time. ‘Baby’s heart sounds strong and healthy’ it says, followed by exclamation marks and drawn hearts, and then a long paragraph about how his mum is really starting to connect with the baby now.

‘Daddy thinks you’re a girl. But I think it just might be wishful thinking.’ is how week sixteen starts off. “Did dad want me to be a girl?” Harry asks, looking up from the book for the first time since he got it in his hands.

“Sort of.” His mum replies from where she’s perched next to Louis, occasionally explaining people, places or situations in the pictures in the album he’s currently looking through. “Mostly because he thought that girls would be more connected to the father, and boys more the mummy.”

“I guess that makes sense.” Harry says with a nod. He is a mummy’s boy after all, but, well, Gemma’s pretty partial to their mum as well. That might be because they both lived with her after the divorce though.

“My sisters were all ‘daddy's’ girls‘.” Louis offers, before he twists his mouth, considering. “Well at least when they were younger. Lottie and Fizz got more attached to mum when they reached puberty.”

“Yeah, mum’s are better for a few of those puberty-things.” His mum agrees. “I imagine most fathers don’t want to take their daughters to shop for their first bra’s or explain the basics of periods.”

“We’ll just send our daughters to you!” Louis decides, a charming, bright and purposely over-the-top smile filling his face as Harry’s mum laughs along, giving Louis’ hair a short ruffle.

“I reckon you’ll have plenty of ladies willing to step in when that time comes.”

Harry brings the journal to bed, reading out some of his favorite sentences and paragraphs to Louis. He lies on his side facing Harry as he listens with a soft expression and a small, ever-present smile on his lips.

At week 26, Louis places his hand on Harry’s bare thigh, stroking his thumb slowly back and forth while he listens to the tale of Harry’s kicking-habits. By week 32 he’s sleeping soundly, breath leaving his mouth in small puffs.

Harry makes it all the way through week 40, smiling at the page that simply says ‘Welcome to the world my beautiful baby boy, it’s nice to finally meet you!’

There are more pages in the journal - possibly as much as one third left, but a glance at the clock tells him it’s nearing one AM, and they need to be up at eight to catch the bus at ten. He sighs, closing the book and putting it on the nightstand. Louis stirs when he rearranges himself to fit up against him, his head rising slightly with a somewhat pinched expression, though his eyes remains closed.

“Sorry.” Harry whispers, turning the light off and pulling Louis’ back to his front. Louis mumbles something as he buries his nose back down in the pillow, but the words are lost against it. It probably nothing important anyway, so Harry just presses a kiss to the crown of his head and closes his eyes.

It takes him ages to fall asleep though, his mind swirling with thoughts, as well as the constant awareness of his belly meeting Louis’ back every time he takes a breath.

--

He’s beginning to get obsessed.

At least he’s aware of it though, that’s a positive sign. Right?

It’s been three weeks. Three weeks since they went to visit him mum. Three weeks since he read the pregnancy journal. Three weeks with thoughts swirling around his head. It’s been three weeks, and this is what he’s achieved so far - this is what he’s come to - Harry Styles, a boy at the age of 21, spends at least an hour a day reading through pregnancy forums.

What started out as mild curiosity is now a full-blown addiction. He’s perhaps going a bit insane, is the thing - he’s seeing pregnant woman around every corner, reading about their experiences, thinking of it, dreaming of it. Not to mention all the fantasies. 

God, there’s even a pregnant girl in one of his classes, and he’s actually considering trying to befriend her. No, listen- they’ve been sharing classes for two years and never uttered a single word to each other, and now Harry want’s to be her new BFF just because she’s pregnant. Who even does that?

The worst part though - and it’s honest to God awful - is that it’s affecting his relationship with Louis.

It’s just. He feels so on edge all the time, what with the lying and the hiding. And Louis is picking up on it, he’s definitely picking up on it. He’s asked several times now, if Harry’s okay. And Harry always lies, always tells him he’s fine, he’s good, he’s just a bit tired, a bit stressed about school that’s all.

Louis doesn’t believe him - that much is clear - but he’s still patient and kind enough to give Harry some time and some room, to let Harry come to him on his own terms, when he’s ready.

Harry’s never gonna be ready though.

There are three forums that he frequents, a few threads in each that he reads and checks every day on his computer. He’s got a bookmarked folder for the links, and even though it’s inconspicuously named as a research folder for one of his classes, he’s still too paranoid to let Louis borrow his computer, lest he finds it.

And Louis is definitely picking up on that.

But - Harry realizes - it might be getting a bit too out of hand as he’s roaming an aisle in Sainsbury’s when his stomachs does a small flip for no reason and the first thing that pops into his head is that the baby’s kicking.
It’s as he realizes that he’s subconsciously pressing his palm against that spot that he decides that enough is enough.

--

It’s funny, isn’t it, how when you try to ignore something, it pulls you even deeper.

Except for, you know, how it’s not funny at all.

If Harry thought there were pregnant women everywhere before, they’re practically swarming him now - his coworkers girlfriend is pregnant, his step-cousin is pregnant, there’s a group of pregnant woman and new mothers going on walks in the area around his flat that he keeps seeing, and even that one girl in his class has started to acknowledge him with smiles whenever they cross paths.

He’s staying away from the forums - even deleted that bookmarked folder and his computer history to avoid it all - only for Jay to call him less than an hour later to chat about her last appointment and how the pregnancy is going. Harry is obviously too weak to try and change the subject, sucking up every bit of information like a sponge.

And then, the other night, he dreamt that Louis naturally impregnated a surrogate for them, but then ran away with her halfway through the pregnancy because he wanted all his children to have the same two parents, and the girl would only agree to that if he married her.

…which is probably why - when Louis brings up surrogacy over Sunday breakfast - Harry gets a teeny tiny bit defensive.

“So. Trey’s having a baby.” Is what Louis starts with. Harry has to stop himself from slamming his head against the table, because really??

“Is he?” He asks instead, his tone as casual as he can manage.

“Mh. Posted the sonogram on facebook and everything. ‘S a girl, I think.” Harry hums in reply. “Surrogacy.” Louis adds.

“Obviously.“ Trey is Louis’ ex-boyfriend. They were only dating for eight months or so, back when Louis was eighteen and Trey was twenty-four. He’s married now, to some bloke he’s apparently having a baby with, and Louis and he are still facebook-friends even though they don’t keep in contact other than that.

“Do you think that’s what we’ll do?” Louis asks then. It takes Harry a second to realize what he refers to, and once he does he can’t stop the huff leaving his lips.

“Bit early to think about, isn’t it?” He’s never been partial to either option before, but now even the thought of Louis fathering a child that’s not related to Harry makes his skin crawl. “It’s not like anything’s set in stone.” Harry adds, his voice harsher than intended, trying his best to ignore the flash of hurt that crosses Louis‘ face.

It has the desired effect though; Louis drops the subject.

--

They’re drifting apart. It can be blamed on a lot of things: work and school and exams and all the stress that creates- but the main reason is none of the above. Harry knows this, and he’s pretty sure Louis does to.

They are busy though, with all those things. Still, that’s rather convenient, a good excuse to avoid the issue.

Honestly, they barely see each other the upcoming week. Exams are less than two weeks away and on top of that there are projects to be completed and essays to be written and notes to be sorted.
So they just - unintentionally - keep missing each during the days. But it‘s not like either of them puts in the effort to keep it from happening.

Sunday mornings brings a tradition they’ve kept up with since they first met; they make and eat a proper fry-up together while they talk about the week and everything else on their minds, and then watch an episode of one of their recorded shows with tea and pastries.

When Harry wakes up this particular Sunday morning, he’s home alone. Louis didn’t come home last night, it seems.

Harry checks his phone, but there are no text or missed call. He knows that Louis was studying with some friends yesterday, so he squashes down the urge to call the police for a search party and instead takes a long - but not at all relaxing - shower.

Once dressed, he makes himself a cuppa, checks his phone five times and ignores the grumbling sounds and hollow feeling in his stomach.

Louis locks himself in half an hour later, a small paper bag in his hand and a sheepish look on his face. Harry puts his anatomy book and neon pink marker away and gets up from the couch with a stretch.

“Sorry. I fell asleep at Sarah’s.” Louis offers as he toes off his shoes and walks over. His t-shirt is damp from the light drizzle outside, and Harry guesses his jeans are as well, but the color is too dark for it to show. Louis drops the bag on the coffee table as he heads towards the bedroom. “Did- um. Did you eat yet?”

“No.” Harry calls back as he grabs the bag to peek into it, smiling at the sight and smell of two large cookies - one oatmeal and cranberry, and one triple chocolate. He’s pretty certain he knows which one is his. “Was waiting for you.”

Louis’ smile is soft as he exits the room in sweats and one of Harry’s thin jumpers a minute later. “Good. Me too. I’m starving.”

They’re a bit weary and mostly silent as they make the breakfast - well, lunch more like it. It’s an easy routine as they both have their accustomed tasks and they work seamlessly around each other.

Once they’ve loaded their plates and filled their glasses with milk, they walk over to the couch to sit. Harry is ahead, but halts when Louis suddenly cuts past him, settling his food on the table and turning around to do the same with Harry’s.

He looks small, all of a sudden, uncertain and vulnerable as Harry stares at him, puzzled. With a flicker of determination, he steps forward, and wraps his arms around Harry’s waist, pressing his nose into his shoulder. He’s tense, Harry can easily tell,  but stays put for the three seconds it takes for Harry to react and hug him back.

They both relax into it then, the hug warm and soft and familiar. Honestly, Harry wasn’t really aware of how high strung he was until that moment. When they pull apart, Louis rises up on his toes and Harry gladly meets him halfway - a press of halfway parted lips that feels right in every sense of the word.

--

Things gets better in the sense that they talk more, they both make an effort to devote time to each other and to properly communicate.

Still, they don’t talk about it - the obvious elephant in the room - just work past it. It’s not healthy, obviously, and the issue isn’t one that just sorts itself out, but they make it through the following weeks nonetheless.

Harry learns how to hide; he keeps his thoughts of pregnancy and all things related squashed down whenever Louis is around, and instead lets it unleash when he’s alone.
He lets himself live in the fantasy then - and at first he just thinks and narrates it in his head, but it escalates quickly, easily.

Sometimes, he’ll stand by the kitchen counter, hips protruding, and imagine Louis coming home, wrapping himself around him from behind and greeting his two babies. He’ll smile widely to himself as he replies ‘Hi papa.’ in his head, spreading one hand over his belly and curling his fingers as if he’s slipping them in between Louis’.

Others, he’ll imagine telling Louis the news, imagine Louis’ face light up at the prospect of having a baby. Occasionally he pretends that it’s a miracle, that he’s the first recorded man in the world to ever get pregnant, that it’s something special and only for them.
Most of the time though, he pretends to live in a world where men are just as able to get pregnant as women - because it would still be special and unique, simply by being his and Louis’ baby.

When he’s in public - or other places where he generally can’t physically act out anything or have thoughts that make him grin to himself like a loon - he sticks mostly to having long conversations with his mum in his head, comparing their pregnancies and symptoms and getting advice.

He even stops by a small tea shop one day, buys a herbal blend made specially for pregnant woman, and stores it in a simple tin jar - the labeled plastic bag it came in stuffed all the way down in the bottom of their garbage and the bin bag thrown in the container outside within an hour.

He drinks it every day as he studies.

In his defense, it is a really good tea.

Harry’s making himself a bowl of healthy home-mixed cereal when the sound of keys jiggling in the lock of his front door alert him to Louis’ return home from his shopping round. Harry’s four months- no wait, Harry is six months pregnant, his belly big and heavy and pretty, and his back is kinda aching which is why Louis has to buy groceries these days, cause like, Harry can’t lift anything too heavy.

Or, wait. Is six months too early to have back pains? Like, it depends on how big the baby is, and how much amniotic fluid one has and Harry does have a bad back, but that would mean three more months of pain and not doing any heavy lifting which sounds like a bit of a hassle to be honest. Hm. Maybe if-

Harry is pregnant with twins. At their last ultrasound the doctor said they’re developing well and all that, and they’re big and stuff so chances are they’ll be born around week 36 or 37, which is quite normal with twins.

Yes that works.

They don’t know the sex of the babies yet, because they want it to be a surprise, but they do know that they are identical.

“Hello darling and my gruesome twosome!” fuck no that is too mean “Hello darling and my double troubles!” Louis greets as he saunters into the kitchen, a few different shopping bags in hand.

Harry puts the jar of granola mix back on the shelf and grabs the one with dried berries, adding a couple of topped spoonfuls to his bowl.

Louis sinks to his knees, lifting the hem of Harry’s t-shirt and pressing two wet kisses to his belly, one for each of the babies.

“Hello papa.” Harry responds as Louis gets back up and kisses him as well. Harry pecks the air before turning around to swap the jar of dried berries for the jar of chopped nuts. “Did you have a good time shopping?”

“I did.” Louis confirms, wrapping himself around Harry and resting his head on his shoulder. Harry leans back into it. “Got you something, even.”

“Did you?” Harry asks pleased, Louis nods and steps back from him grabbing a plastic bag and handing it over. Harry uses his spoon to mix around in his cereal for a bit, contemplating whether or not he should add some honey. Or, oh! He still haven’t used the strawberries he bought the other day!

“Thank you!” Harry says before even peeking in the bag, because whatever it is, he knows he’ll like it. Inside he finds green fabric and he pulls it out to see- Harry contemplates different cute baby-outfits he’s seen online as he rinses a handful of berries and grabs a knife, before he settles on- two pale green bodies with black text; one saying ‘copy’ and the other saying ‘paste’. “Loooouis!” He coos.

Louis shrugs, all cute and bashful as Harry puts the clothes back in the bag and gives him another kiss. “Got something for you as well.” Louis adds, making Harry’s grin widen as Louis hands over a second bag. He pops a strawberry in his mouth, pleased to find it even sweeter than anticipated. It’s a sweater, dark blue and big and soft and warm, made with extra fabric to fit his pregnant belly. Harry licks his fingers clean of berry-juice and tries it on, pleased to find it’s big enough for him to grow-

But, actually.. He doesn’t want to give birth during the winter, having to swaddle two newborns in warm clothes all the time and not being able to take them out in the stroller because of rain and sludge and snow. Which means he won't be pregnant during winter. Which means there’s no need for any big, soft, warm sweaters.

“Got something for you as well.” Louis adds, making Harry’s grin widen as Louis hands over a second bag. He pulls a squared cardboard box out of the bag Louis hands over, and it only takes him a few seconds to realize what it is. “Oh my god, thank you!” He half shouts as he wraps Louis in a big hug, having to angle himself sideways a little so that his belly doesn’t get in the way. Is that reaction too much? “I’ve been drooling over those for ages!” He adds as he pulls the set of colorful bowls and measuring cups out of the box.

“I know, figured it was about time.” Louis answers, one hand sneaking in under Harry’s t-shirt to rub at his skin.

“You’re my favorite husband.” Harry murmurs softly.

“The only husband, I hope.” Louis responds mock-concernedly, just as one of the babies kicks against where his palm is- Harry sighs as his phone rings, quickly rinsing his sticky fingers under the tap before grabbing it.

“Hi babe.” He answers, sticking the phone between his ear and shoulder as he slices the last couple of strawberries.

“Hey, how’s the studying going?” Harry sighs.

“It’s alright I think. I’m just taking a lunch break actually. What about you, done with the paper?”

“With the rough draft. The words started to blur together so I needed a break. I’m on the bus actually, wanted to know if you wanted me to buy some lunch on the way home? Or did you already make something?”

“Yeah, cereal. Do you want me to make you some?” He grabs a second bowl as he asks, chuckling when Louis skeptically questions what kind of cereal he’s making. As if he doesn’t know.

“Granola.” Harry replies anyway, pouring some of said mix into the bowl as Louis groans. “I’ve got fresh strawberries as well.” He singsongs. Louis sighs in defeat.

“Don’t forget the raisins though!”

“You’re disgusting!”

“And don’t pour the-”

“-milk until you get here, I know. See you soon!” He hangs up and adds the dried berries and the nuts before opening a drawer to grab the bag of chocolate covered raisins. Honestly, who wants that in their cereal? And mixed with fresh strawberries nonetheless.

As instructed, he adds the milk just as Louis kicks off his shoes, and brings both bowls over to where he is sprawled over the couch.

“Just one more week to go.” Louis says with - rather fake - enthusiasm, as he grabs the bowl and immediately clinks it against Harry’s.

“I’ll, uh, eat to that?” Harry offers before they both take a mouthful, Louis lips twitching upwards in delight, and Harry pretending not to notice. As usual.

--

The following week is as stressful as they come. With two exams and a paper due, Harry barely has time to think about anything but getting through it.
Louis is equally busy, and the only communication they have is texts, rushed half-clipped sentences, and a frantic phone call when Harry has a minor breakdown thinking he’d accidentally deleted his eight pages long paper two hours before he was supposed to hand it in.

Louis finishes two days before Harry, and he goes to his mum‘s straight after, so that Harry can study in peace and nail his final exam.
It’s nice of him, but it’s also a bit lonely, and Harry can’t even entertain his pregnancy fantasy, because neuroanatomy is one hell of a subject with one hell of a exam.

It’s the last evening of studying and Harry is reading the same paragraph for the fourth time and is nowhere near closer to understand it now, than he was the first.
His eyes have been drooping for the past couple of hours, his head hurts and whenever he looks away from the books he sees white spots dancing in the corner of his eyes.

If Louis were home, he’d tell Harry to take a fucking break, eat something greasy and high in calories and recharge.
He gets off of the couch with a sigh, stretching and then heading for the kitchen for a couple of oranges - determined to not fall under the spell of fast food and unhealthy habits just because he doesn’t have time to cook.

After washing his hands he heads straight back to the books, the break already feeling way too long. He’s not ready for the exam and he’s probably gonna fail, and that’s despite the fact that he actually finds this subject interesting.

He tries for another half hour, but all he’s left with is sentences that makes no sense and notes he needs to reread anyway, so he finally realizes he’s not getting anywhere and gives in. 

He’ll just stretch out on the bed for a second, that’ll probably help. Maybe he should call Louis, talk about something not related to the subject, so that everything he’s already read has a chance to actually sink in.

As fate would have it, Louis doesn’t answer his phone. Harry lets out a heavy breath from where he’s starfishing on their bed, checking the time before throwing the phone onto his pillow and watching it bounce out of reach. It’s closing in on seven, which means Louis is most likely putting his youngest siblings to bed.

In a few months they won't be the youngest anymore.

Harry rubs his hands over his face. Jay had stopped by a couple of weeks ago - having been on some work related course-thingy about an hour away from them - and she looks ready to burst already.
She’s five months and a bit along now, glowing and pretty in a way only a pregnant woman can be.
The twins aren’t moving around much yet - just occasionally kicking at nighttime or when she’s still over a longer period - so he couldn’t feel them through her belly, but he still spread his palm over the bump, mesmerized.

Okay, time to think of something else before he gets lost down that road.

He’s working Friday and Saturday this weekend, but has two days off before that - well, after he’s done with the exam tomorrow morning that is. His body tenses just at the thought. Actually, maybe he should do a yoga routine? That’s a good way to relax and gather energy, right?

But, he can’t afford that long of a break though.

“I feel like she’s more excited for these classes than I am.” Alicia says as she unrolls her purple yoga mat next to Harry’s on the floor. “It’s like she’s doing cartwheels of joy in there.”

Harry laughs, his hand automatically falling to his own baby bump. “Well, it wouldn’t take much for her to be more excited than you, would it?” He teases. Alicia likes to complain about how difficult it is to get into positions and how she can‘t take deep breaths with ‘the brat kicking at her diaphragm’ to anyone who‘ll listen.

“Well we can‘t all be the teacher's pet.” She replies dryly.

No. Stop it. Bad Harry.

He’s got three shifts next week, and then a week off that they’ll spend with his family. Then it’s back to work for another three weeks before spending a week with Louis’.

Jay’ll be seven months along then.

Nope. Not going there.

He needs to write a grocery list! They should stack up on a few essentials actually - but a glance to his left reminds him he has to physically move to get a hold of his phone, and he just needs, like, five more minutes of stretching his back before he does that.

Harry pushes the cart in front of him, arms stretched to reach around the bump.
At nine months pregnant he should probably feel fat, but he doesn’t, he’s proud of his huge belly and rounded hips.

His hair is up and away from his face, and he’s wearing a t-shirt even though it’s late September - hot flashes attacking his body at least once an hour these days.
Louis said he’d go shopping tonight, but sitting inside doing nothing all day is slowly driving Harry insane. Besides, he’s not getting anything too heavy anyway, so it’s fine.
He heads for the fruit and veg section first, grabbing celery, and making a mental reminder to buy at least two jars of peanut butter to dip them in.

His stomach spasms; an intense wave of pain that lasts for no more than three seconds, but still has him bending over while supporting himself on the trolley, knuckles going white from how hard he grips at it.

“Are you okay?” A middle aged lady asks, walking over as Harry straightens himself.

“Yeah I’m fine, just a bit of a kicker this one!” He replies with a smile. She seems a bit unsure but eventually nods and lets him be.
It wasn’t a kick, Harry’s pretty sure, but he’s not due for another six days and firstborns are usually overdue.

He’s not having contractions and he’s sure as hell not giving birth in a grocery store.

He reasons that he’ll just discuss it with Louis when he gets home, and bags four pears before heading further into the store, smoothing out his crumbled shopping list as he walks.

He’s got the second jar of peanut butter in his hand when it happens again. It takes him by surprise this time as well, and he drops the jar, clutching his stomach and attempting to curl in on himself - which is practically impossible, what with the large belly in the way.
It passes just as quickly, and when Harry opens his eyes again, he sees that the jar - by some miracle - didn’t shatter, so he bends further down to retrieve it.

“Whoa, steady on.” Someone says, grabbing his upper arm with one hand and gently placing the other on his back.

“Here.” Another voice chimes in; a girl picking the jar up and placing it back on the shelf.

“Um, thanks.” Harry mumbles, stretching back up to see that the person still holding on to him is an employee, while a teenage girl is in front of him and a man is standing a few feet away with a phone to his ear. He reaches for the jar of peanut butter so he can put it with the rest of his groceries, but is stopped by the employee squeezing at his upper arm.

“I think we’re gonna hold off on the shopping for right now.” He says gently.

“I’m fine.” Harry replies, brows furrowed. “Or, like, did I do something wrong?”

The employee gives him a small smile. “No, off course not, but we need to get you to the hospital.”

“That guy’s calling for an ambulance.” The girl adds, tilting her head in the direction of said man.

“Oh, there’s no need for that!” He protests. He just needs to go home and relax, wait for Louis to get back from work, and then they’ll time the contractions - if that’s even what it is - and they’ll call the hospital themselves. “Seriously.” He adds when neither one of them seems willing to budge.

“Your, um, water..” The employee says, looking down at Harry’s crotch, which prompts Harry to do the same. Oh.

“Oh.” He didn’t even notice that his pants were wet. It must’ve happened while he was doubled over in pain. “Yeah, okay.” He agrees in a low voice, just as the man announces that the ambulance is on it’s way.

He should probably give Louis a call.

Actually, what he really should do, is stop reading birth stories on the ‘expecting and just arrived’ forum. Lord knows he doesn’t need to fuel his already vivid imagination.

--

The exam goes extremely well, actually. Well, he’s not gonna get, like, top grades or anything, but he was still pleasantly surprised to find that he could answer every question to some degree.

He pulls out his phone as he exits the hall, finding Louis’ number at the top of his ‘recent’ list and pressing call. It rings three times before the call is cut off. Odd. Furrowing his brows he pushes the door open, figuring Louis must’ve accidentally ignored the call, and is just about to try again when he looks up briefly and finds Louis waiting at the bottom of the steps.
He smiles, half jogging down to meet him, and pulls him into a hug.

“Hiiii!” He greets, kissing Louis’ neck where he’s pressed against it. Although he kinda assumed that Louis would be home today, they didn’t actually discuss it. It’s definitely a pleasant surprise.

“Hi love.” Louis replies, pulling back and pecking his lips briefly. “How did it go?”

“Surprisingly well!” Harry says with a grin, which Louis easily mirrors. “How was your family?”

“Good! It was nice to spend some times with the girls.” Louis slips his hand into Harry’s and softly pulls at him, urging him to start walking. “They asked about you though, Pheebs and Dais were pouting for like an hour when they realized you weren’t coming.”

“Aww.” Harry coos. “I hope you told them I’ve missed them!” Louis squeezes his hand briefly, and Harry looks over to find a pleased smile on his face.

“Course I did.” He assures. “You don’t have any plans today, do you?”

“Nope! Did you have anything in mind?”

“We should treat ourselves to something nice! Schools out and all that.” Louis decides. There’s something a bit weird with his tone, but Harry decides not to focus on it, instead nodding along.

The first treat they get is ice cream. They have two scoops each - both deciding on one of their favorites and one they’ve never tried before, and ends up swapping when they liked each others choices more. They take them to go as they walk back to their flat - something they rarely do as it takes at least half an hour, but for once they’re in no rush and the sun is out, so why not take advantage of that.

They take the opportunity to catch up with each other in a way they haven’t had the chance to for while, and it’s so, so nice. Once the ice cream is devoured, their hands slip into each other again and they swing them back and forth as they walk.

It’s great to feel relaxed for once.

When they’ve finally make their way home Harry suggests a nap, and Louis is quick to agree.
Though he’s had two days of summer vacation already, Harry knows that he’s been staying up late with his mum and Lottie, and then getting up early in the morning to help with the twins - the bags under his eyes are still more prominent than usually.

They kiss lazily on the bed for a while, lips slotting softly together - still sticky with the residue of the gelato - making Harry’s mind feel hazy and warm in the loveliest way.

He’s considering slipping Louis some tongue when said boy practically yawns into Harry’s mouth.

They pull away, both giggling. It ruins the moment, but it doesn’t really matter, does it, when Louis softly kisses the corner of his mouth and curls himself against Harry’s side.

He wakes up in the midst of giving birth to a litter of kittens. It’s not as unusual as it should be.

Louis is snuffling next to him, his legs twitching and spasming the way animals’ do when they’re dreaming, and it’s equally as adorable as it is annoying when toes jab into his shin. Harry smoothes a hand down Louis’ thigh, softly pushing when he reaches the knee to angle the kicks away from himself. Louis puffs out a sigh.

They’ve both been sleeping in just pants, so Harry lets his hand caress over the soft skin of Louis’ inner thigh as he retracts his hand, the leg shifting to grant more access.
Louis may not have as sensitive thighs as Harry does, but he’s a sucker for being touched in general, probably loves the feeling of hands on his skin as much as Harry loves touching it.

The boy has never been a particularly heavy sleeper, and this time is no exception - it’s not long till soft sleep-heavy blue eyes are peeking up at Harry from underneath a ruffled fringe. The smile that curls over his lips is equally as soft as he presses his face into the pillow.

“Morning.” Harry croaks, his voice feeling rough in his throat.

“Afternoon.” Louis replies - or corrects, perhaps - lifting his head to proper face Harry. He moves his hand down to where Harry’s is still resting on his inner thigh and intertwines their fingers loosely.

They just lie there for a moment, basking in each other and the sunlight streaming in from their bedroom window. Harry loves all the sides there is to Louis - well, expect the messy one, maybe - but he probably loves this the most; when he’s just soft, quiet and contempt. He’ll never tire of that one.

It’s Louis who breaks their little bubble. “It’s nearing five.” He mumbles, eyes moving back to meet Harry’s from where they were previously focused over his shoulder, where the alarm clock is placed. “Wanna order in from that fancy Indian place?”

“Still treating ourselves then?” Harry asks, pleased. The restaurant has the most amazing food, but sadly the prices matches the quality and their student budgets can only allow for it every once in awhile. Louis hums, smile growing, as Harry rolls onto his stomach - towards Louis. Their tangled hands are left at an uncomfortable angle as a result, so he lets go, and threads the fingers through Louis’ hair instead.

“Gonna treat yourself to me first?” Louis asks all coquettish, batting his long eyelashes and biting at his bottom lip, fully aware of what it does to Harry.

“Minx.” Harry mutters, as he leans up to reach Louis’ lips.

Louis’ mouth may be a bit stale from sleep, but so is Harry’s, probably, so he doesn’t mind. The kiss is unhurried - matching the mood that’s surrounding them, but it’s still heated. Louis is nothing but responsive, arching and pressing up against Harry’s body with determination. 

He breaks the kiss to take a breath, licking at Harry’s upper lip as he goes, and then lets his head fall back when Harry trails kisses down his neck instead. It’s been awhile since they’ve done this, at least since they’ve had time to proper enjoy it, so that’s exactly what Harry does.
He sucks red spots into Louis’ summer-golden skin - some getting a bit extra attention so that they’ll stick for a while - while he presses his flat palm to Louis’ erection, letting him chase the pressure as he grinds up towards it.

Harry has every intention to blow him, but looking at how pliant and sensitive his boyfriend seems, he changes his mind.

“Harry.” Louis complains when he removes his hand to crawl up on all four instead.

“Changed my mind. I think you should do me first.” Harry states, smirking when Louis gives him a look of disbelief. He’s not very fond of being teased. Or well. He likes to pretend he’s not, at least.

“What? Why?” There’s a whiney tone to his voice, but he looks Harry straight in the eye, ready to fight him, it seems. Harry leans down closer.

“Because,” He kisses the corner of Louis’ mouth, staying close so that his breath puffs over his cheek. “you get so boneless when I rim you. Won't be able to requite for ages.” He kisses Louis’ slack mouth softly, lips sticking together as he pulls back.
Louis looks dazed by lust, his iris’ almost disappeared.

“Yeah.” He breathes, so softly Harry barely hear it, before he seems to recover and flips them over, slipping the boxers off and taking him in his mouth so quickly Harry barely registers what’s happening.

Not that he’s complaining though.

Even as eager as Louis is to get his treat, he still takes his time to please Harry. His movements are slow and practiced, tongue swirling around the head and into the slit, driving Harry mad with it, before he goes all the way down again. It’s heaven, Louis’ mouth is.

Just as heat is coiling in Harry’s lower belly, Louis pulls all the way off. He mouths along the underside as he goes down, leaving a wet, cool trail, before he turns his head to the right, sucking a proper mark into Harry’s inner thigh. Harry’s trembling when Louis releases his skin only to shift to the other side, and repeat the process. Once pleased with the marks he’s left, he continues the blowjob, hands gripping at Harry’s thighs and thumbs pressing against the bruises.

Harry can only hold back for so long. He smoothes a hand through Louis’ fringe in warning, even though he knows Louis can feel his legs shaking, has probably noticed how his stomach is clenching and his breath is uneven. He doesn’t pull off, instead he takes him deeper, thumbs pushing harder. Harry moans as he gives in to the sensations, Louis pulling back but still keeping the head in his mouth as Harry spills.

He deliberately holds back swallowing till Harry looks at him, his own throat bobbing as he watches Louis’ Adams apple move, before Louis smirks, licking his lips.

God, Harry loves his boyfriend.

As Harry takes a minute to recover, Louis rearranges himself beside him; cheek resting on his forearms, back swaying beautifully up to his arse - which is high in the air, thighs spread to allow Harry room in between.

Harry gulps as Louis blinks slowly at him. His cheeks are flushed and his hair matted and ruffled and he looks all kinds of gorgeous as he practically presents himself to Harry. Fuck. Harry reaches a hand out and strokes the back of it over Louis upper arm. “I love you.” He tells him sincerely, making Louis’ breath hitch so abruptly his whole body jumps with it.
He’s always been a sucker for being told that in bed, his boy.

Harry wastes no more time - gets up and behind Louis and letting his index finger trail Louis’ spine as he positions himself, loving how goose bumps ripples along his warm skin, how he shivers as he presses his forehead to the inside of his elbow and breathes heavily. Harry cups his cheeks, spreading them and squeezing, as Louis - if even possible - arches his back more.

“Get to it then, haven’t got all day.” Louis mutters when he takes too long to admire. Harry gives his bum a slap - not too hard, wouldn’t even count as a spank - and chides him for his impatience. Louis wiggles in return.

He plasters himself against Louis’ back though, kisses his neck and down his spine, bites at the round of his arse when he gets there. Louis thrusts forward, away, so Harry grabs his hips firmly to hold him in place.

He presses the tip of his nose against the top of Louis’ crack and exhales deeply through his mouth, smirking when Louis lets out a breath in return.

And then he dives in.

The thing Harry loves the most about rimming Louis is how responsive he is, and in the most honest way. He’s not all dirty talk, or loud moans or exaggerated screams, he simply goes quiet - heavy breaths and low moans and tears. Tears. But only if Harry gets him worked up enough though.

He does.

It’s most definitely affected by the fact that Louis has been stressed for the past weeks as well, but it’s not long till he’s sniffing and wiping his face on his forearm. Harry gives him a small break, taking a deep breath and smoothing his hands up and down Louis’ back.

“Alright?” He asks softly, jaw already aching a bit. Louis sniffs and nods, wiggling his bum a bit to indicate where he wants Harry’s attention. It makes Harry smile and press a kiss to his left hip. He’s not mean though, so he gets back into it right away - even quits teasing. By the time Louis orgasms, he’s a sobbing, quivering mess, and his legs give out instantly, making him belly flop on the bed.

Harry’s hard again - how could he not be - so he positions himself over Louis’ back as he wanks himself off. “Can I come on you?” He pants, already knowing the answer but wanting consent anyway. Louis sighs and then rocks up on his knees again to give Harry a pleasant view of his reddened skin and hole. It doesn’t exactly take long before Harry’s painting his arse and lower back in white stripes, collapsing next to him after.

Louis’ breathing is still slightly erratic, and his face a bit blotchy but he looks nothing short of happy as he gives Harry a drowsy smile.

They take a short breather before Harry rolls out of bed to grab a flannel and his phone. He wipes Louis - who’s on the brink of falling back asleep - down, and then settles next to him as he pulls up the website for the restaurant.

“What do you want?” He asks, carding fingers into Louis’ hair and rubbing at his skull as he finds the menu.

“Extra naan. And raiti.” Harry rolls his eyes, and reads the menu out loud, before he calls in and orders three dishes - along with the extra naan and raiti, obviously - mouth watering at the thought that they’ll have plenty of leftovers tomorrow.

“Forty minutes.” He informs as he hangs up, double checking the time to make sure he’ll get out of bed early enough to get dressed first.

He ends up opening the door in nothing but Louis’ too short sweatpants and a deep blush anyway.

They eat on the couch, catching up on Project Runway and halfway cuddling without actually spilling any food. It’s an achievement, that’s for sure.

Of course, obviously, because why not - in the second episode they watch, the designers gets tasked to create maternity clothes.

What is it with spring and babies anyway?

The designers all get paired with an ‘average’ pregnant woman who’ll have a say in the design and all have criteria for what they want. Harry’s body feels unnaturally stiff and on edge as he tears of a piece of naan and uses it to soak up leftover sauce from his plate.

They remain silent for the first half, until it gets quite apparent that the designer they both loathe is making the ugliest pantsuit ever - on top of wrongly incorporating the features the woman wanted. Honestly, she says pockets and he gives her a miniature breast pocket that might fit half a coin. Harry actually snorts curry up his nose when they show a clip of him saying ‘she’s a girl, use a fucking purse.’

It’s ugly on the mannequin and it’s ugly on the model, and she’s clearly not pleased - and not afraid to tell him so.

“Can you imagine mum wearing that?” Louis asks through a laugh, as the model tries to slap the designer with her purse.

“I don’t think I want to.” Harry replies. “Like, no one could pull it off. Ever.” The designer yells that she needs to control her hormones. She doesn’t take it very well.

“What an absolute arse. If he doesn’t go this time the show is definitely rigged.” Louis says, eyes glued to the screen and distaste written across all his features. It‘s cute. “You could probably pull it off though.” He adds, making Harry bark out a laugh.

“Yeah, you’ll buy me one when I get pregnant?” It’s out before he even thinks. It’s- He’s- There’s nothing he wants more than to take the words back, but fuck it’s too late now. He tries his best to remain casual, but his heart rate has picked up and his breaths feel shallow, like they can’t quite reach all the way into his lungs.

Louis snorts. Harry’s heart sinks to his stomach. “I’ll make you one meself, can’t look any worse than that!” Harry’s heart beats it’s way back up to his chest.

It’s nothing it’s nothing it’s nothing it doesn’t mean anything Harry tells himself as he wills his heart to slow down to a normal rate. Jeez! And it’s true, it’s just- It’s not like Louis meant anything with it- like in a hypothetical situation in a world where Harry could get pregnant Louis would- But he doesn’t find it ridiculous, or absurd or weird or disgusting.

..Or he does, so much so that he doesn’t need to comment on it? No but, but, if Louis hated the idea it would be clear on his face, he’d voice it as well - but there he is, grabbing the remote to forward past the commercial as if nothing just happened.

Nothing did happen. This is not acceptance or anything, it’s not a big deal, it’s just a casual comment and it’s- Fuck.

The judges hates the suit as well, and the designer is sent home.

Harry barely registers it.

They treat themselves to chocolate, and they treat themselves to a bottle of white wine. When they go to bed, they treat themselves to nice, slow sex - the whole day has just been romantic and sweet, and exactly what they needed to reconnect.

Harry though, Harry, he treats himself to something even better.

As he’s lying on the bed with his legs wrapped around Louis’ lower back, Louis’ thrusts getting frantic and uneven and then finally stilling as he climaxes, fills him up- at that moment, Harry treats himself to a pregnancy.

--

Waking up pregnant feels different, somehow.

He’s the first one awake, he’s pretty sure, even though his back is to Louis. He’s pressed up close behind, forehead against Harry’s back and arm slung over and around his waist, hand splayed out across his belly. As if he knows.

A jolt zips up his spine and pleasant warmth fills him from top to toe as he slips his fingers in between Louis’ and falls back asleep with a smile curled over his lips.

When he wakes up for the second time, his stomach gives a tug of hunger. For a moment he considers going back to sleep once more, as his body is still lax and so, so comfortable, but the baby needs nutrition to stay healthy, so he slips out of Louis hold.

He’s going to focus more on eating healthy, he decides. Well, it’s not like he eats unhealthy anyway these days, but he’ll, like, google good food for pregnant wom- people, and try to follow that.

Maybe he should buy those pregnancy vitamin packs as well? Though, Louis will definitely question that.. Oh, but he could see what kinda vitamins are included and then buy them separately, that’ll be better. …And probably also very expensive.

Hm. It can wait for now.

After a ruffle through the fridge, he ends up making a bacon and cheese omelet, and it smells heavenly, if he does say so himself. Louis must agree, because it’s not long till he comes shuffling out in his pants, rubbing at his eyes and looking extremely cute.

Harry puts a lid over the frying pan and goes over to kiss him good morning.

“Do I have time for a quick shower?” He asks, putting both his hands on Harry’s stomach.

“Yeah it’ll be done in like fifteen.” He replies, leaning in to the touch. Louis nods and kisses the corner of his mouth before heading towards the bathroom. Harry reminds himself, once again, that Louis doesn’t know.

--

The following week is good. Really good.

Harry is blissfully pregnant, and Louis is blissfully unaware and it works perfectly, it does.

They both work several days, but the days off are spent together - sometimes just the two of them, and sometimes with other friends - and it’s summer and there’s no school and the world is right again.

Louis is more relaxed, happier for sure, and it makes Harry happier as well. He makes healthy dinners with loads of vegetables, and he stays away from the beer when they go out barbecuing with friends on Friday, but other than that everything is normal. Louis doesn’t even question it.

Honestly, he wonders why he didn’t think of this sooner. It’s like all the tension he’s been carrying around has melted off his body, his mind is stress-free, and - as an added bonus - their relationship is ten times better now than it has been the past couple of months.

Happiness is a wonderful thing.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t last long.

The week at Harry’s mums place quickly gets awkward. As early as the second day, in fact, because Gemma comes home as well, and they decide to go out for lunch. Whatever’s fine with me Harry had said, and gone to the shower, only to return and be told they’re going to a sushi restaurant.

You can’t eat raw fish when you’re pregnant. But that’s not exactly an argument Harry can make, is it? “Oh. I’m not really feeling like having sushi to be honest.” He says instead.

“You said it didn’t matter, the rest of us voted and sushi it is.” Gemma says from where she’s braiding her hair using the microwave as her mirror.

“Besides, you love sushi. When are you ever not in the mood for it?” Harry holds back a sigh.

“Since now?”

“I’m sure you’ll find something that’ll be appealing.” His mum decides, and then they grab wallets and phones and purses and head for the car.

The place have a few vegetarian options as well, and Harry thanks the Lord as he orders vegetable dumplings and egg and mushroom sushi. It’s all fine and well, until the rest of them decides to have wine. Harry wants to smash his head against the table. Instead, he orders chai tea and water and keeps his eyes on the table as he feels the others stare him down.

“Are you feeling okay, honey?” His mum asks after a beat of silence. Harry shrugs.

“I’m alright. Someone’s gotta drive though.” It doesn’t convince them, it seems, and the rest of the lunch is slightly strained - the others keeping up with a light conversation while Harry quietly broods in the corner.

“Harry?” Louis asks that night when they’ve gone to bed. The lights are off, so Harry can’t make out his expression properly, but he can easily picture the somewhat somber expression that would match the tone of his voice. “You’d tell me if something was wrong, wouldn’t you?”

“Of course I would.” Harry replies, equally as softly. A silence fall over them, as if perhaps Louis is expecting something more, but finally he sighs, kisses Harry’s bicep and turns his back to him to go to sleep.

Harry only hesitates for a moment before he wraps his arms around him.

--

He gets two days of uncomfortable peace before they pounce on him.

Well, not literally, obviously, but he wakes up to an empty, cold bed, and the house is awfully quiet. When he makes it downstairs, the living room is empty and the silence is still booming, so he figures either they all left him, or-- His mum is in the kitchen by herself, a cup of tea in front of her and another placed next to the kettle.

Serious talk it is then.

He contemplates bolting, maybe going upstairs and change to shorts and a vest and go jogging. But, he knows that he’s not getting out of this, so he might as well face the music now, when the house seems otherwise empty.
He takes a breath to brace himself, and then enters the kitchen.

“Morning.” He rasps out. “Where is everyone?” His mum doesn’t turn towards him, so he walks around the counter to riffle in the basket of tea bags, settling on raspberry leaf.

“Robin got called in for work for a few hours. Gems and Lou went shopping.” Harry hums as he stirs in sugar and milk. His mum’s presence feels heavy. Judging, somehow.

He doesn’t think he can stomach any breakfast at the moment, so instead he goes over to the cupboard and retrieves the box of almond rods - a soft type of biscuit dipped in dark chocolate that’s usually reserved for Christmas, but that his mum has a tendency to make during the summer as well - before he settles in the barstool next to his mum’s by the counter.

“That’s not breakfast food.” She chides, though she grabs one of the biscuits for herself, taking a bite and chewing slowly while Harry gobbles down one and a half. “How are you?” Straight to it then.

“I’m fine.” He replies, taking a sip of his still too warm tea. At least it’s a good distraction.

“You seem a bit on edge.” She counters. “Are you sure nothing’s going on?”

“Nothing special.” He replies with a shrug. “There’s always ups and downs, innit?” She hums in reply, clearly not satisfied with his answer.

“You know you can talk to me about everything, right?” He has to stop himself from snorting at that. Yes, normally he would confide in her with, well, close to everything at least, but.. ‘I’m just pretending I’m pregnant and it’s hard to act it out around Louis without him realizing’ would definitely end with some nice men in clean, white coats coming to pick him up. Or being forced to see a therapist, at the very least.

“I know.” He replies, but leaves it at that.

“More importantly; you can talk to Louis.” Harry doesn’t manage to hold back the sarcastic laugh this time. It only lasts for a second, but it’s more than enough to ignite his mum, apparently. “That boy loves you, so much, Harry. And he’s hurting right now. I don’t know why, or what’s happened, but he seems even more confused than I am, so I’m guessing he hasn’t done anything?”

It’s not really a question, but Harry mumbles out a ‘no’ anyway. Her voice softens as she lays a hand on Harry’s arm.

“Whatever this is.. Honey, you need to communicate. Pushing him away isn’t helping anyone.”

“I’m not-” He starts to protest but quickly cuts himself off when he catches the unimpressed look on her face.

“Just, work it out.” She concludes, giving his arm a gentle squeeze and getting of off her chair. He sighs, taking another sip of his tea. It’s gone lukewarm now, and somehow tastes all wrong, so he pushes it away and leans his head on the counter instead.

If only I knew how.

--

It keeps going downhill in the following weeks.

They both work a lot in the three weeks between family visits, and Harry spends most of his free time either avoiding Louis or pretending there is no issue between them.

Louis tries to address it, a few times, but Harry somehow manages to avoid the questions by pretending he doesn’t understand or changing the subject, and eventually, Louis just. Gives up.

It somehow both saddens and relieves him.

This is not on Louis though, this is - all of it - is Harry’s fault and Harry’s responsibility, and he’s the one who has to fix it.

But fuck if he knows how to.

He can’t just ignore it all - been there, done that, didn‘t work -, he can’t pretend he doesn’t want it, and he can’t just take away the pregnancy he’s started - imaginary as it might be.

Instead, he clings to the baby that’s growing inside of him, and focuses on keeping him healthy and happy for as long as he can - Because, it’s a boy, he thinks. Obviously there’s no way to be sure, he’s only five weeks along now, and there won't be an ultrasound for another two months, at the very least. But, yeah, it’s just a feeling he has, and he goes with it. A tiny little prince.

He’s not sure what he’ll do when those two months have come and gone, as he can’t exactly go to his doctor and demand a ultrasound for his non-existent baby, but - he places a hand on the lower part of his belly gently, rubbing in circles - a lot of people wait till the actual birth to find out the sex, so they’ll probably do that.

At least it gives him eight more months to figure things out.

--

It’s obvious that Jay knows they’re having issues. She hugs Louis tightly and much longer than usual, and when she pulls away her hand goes to his cheek as she gives him a soft, questioning smile. Louis discreetly shakes his head no, and her smile saddens before she lets him go.

“Hello Harry.” She says. It sounds formal and almost cold, but that might just be because he’s slightly paranoid.

“Hiiii.” He replies, the smile that he’s forcing onto his face quickly becoming real when he feels her baby bump press against his side as they share a hug. “They’re surely growing in there!” He points out, only a second later realizing that it might sound like he’s implying she’s looking fat. “You look gorgeous.” He adds.

Her laughter sounds real enough as she places both palms on her belly. Harry tries his best to hold back any jealous thoughts as she thanks him.

Once settled inside, the twins asks Harry to make dinner with them, and he easily agrees.
They start to make lasagna while Louis and the two remaining sisters go the grocery store to buy the missing ingredients. Jay simply sits by the kitchen table and keeps them company, obviously thankful for a moment’s rest.

“My back and feet are hurting more and more each day, it seems.” She says as Harry starts the cheese sauce, the girls in control of frying up minced beef.

“I don’t envy you.” Harry lies easily. He’d gladly take all the pain if it was accompanied by the miracle of a pregnancy.

“At least it’s got Lottie to swear she’s not getting pregnant anytime soon.” Jay says with a laugh. “or If ever, as she said.” Harry concentrates on keeping his smile natural as he sprinkles spices into the white sauce he’s made and gives it a bit of a stir before putting it off heat. The cheese is one of the ingredients they were missing, so he won't be able to do anything else until the others gets back.

It’s weird how some people can take something other wants so bad for granted, but alas, people have different needs and wants and he can’t do anything but accept that.

“What about Fizzy?”

“Oh she’s not scared yet, she loves babies as much as Louis does. Though, that might change when she starts living with them. She doesn’t remember much from when those two were infants.” She glances over at the twins, who seems too occupied to pay attention to the conversation.

“I bet it’ll be nice to have her now though, extra set of hands and all.” Jay nods pleasantly.

“I’m planning on taking full advantage of it.”

“We’ll help as well!” Phoebe chimes in as she excitedly hacks at the meat, apparently better at multitasking than Harry gave her credit for. There’s oil splatters and pieces of the meat all around the stovetop though, so Harry gently tells her to be a bit more careful and watch what she’s doing.

“I know you will, you‘re both very good helpers.” Jay assures them, getting identical grins in return.

It’s not long till the shoppers return. Harry finishes the cheese sauce and gets started on the tomato one, while Louis chops onions and the oldest girls throw together a salad to go with the meal. Meanwhile, Jay sends the twins to wash up and then set the table.

They don’t talk much - the oven fan and various sounds they make as they work creating more than enough noise, but the atmosphere is relaxing as they bustle around each other, getting everything together.
While the lasagna cooks itself in the oven, they wash up what they’ve used, so when they finally sit down to eat it feels like they’ve proper worked for the food - which is a bit ridiculous, as this is what Jay does on a daily basis whilst being pregnant with twins.

Well, Harry’s pregnant too, isn’t he? Not as far along obviously, but still, all stages of pregnancy takes energy from the body.

He doesn’t realize he’s absentmindedly rubbing at his stomach until Daisy asks if he has a tummy ache, and attracts the attention from everyone at the table.

“No, I’m, uh- just had a small muscle cramp or something.” He stutters, blood rushing to his cheeks. “’s all good, um, over now.”

“Alright.” Louis says, his voice sounding a bit awkward and loud. “Let’s eat!”

--

It turns out Dan’s aunt and uncle has a lovely beach house down in Bristol, so on their second day there, the entire family packs up their two cars, ready for a three hour drive across the country in the hopes of some proper summer weather.

The ride itself will be a part of the mini-vacation, Jay had said, so they’re planning on stopping by a small petting farm along the way to get lunch and spend some time. They leave around ten in the morning, Louis, Harry, Lottie and Fizzy in Dan’s old car and the rest of them - along with most of the luggage - in the minivan.

They listen to the radio as they drive, all of them a bit too grumpy and tired to keep a proper conversation. It’s fine though, Harry gets to relax and enjoy the scenery as Louis drives. Well, there’s not really a lot to enjoy along the highway, but Harry’s always liked to watch the people in the cars they pass, so he’s alright.
He stretches out as much as he can, his knees slightly pressing into the back of Louis’ seat. It’s a bit cramped back there, but Lottie gets carsick and he’d much rather sit uncomfortably for a couple of hours then have to listen to - and smell - her vomit.
The bigger issue, to be honest, is that the old seatbelt cuts a bit too hard into his shoulder and stomach - especially whenever Louis hit’s the brakes, even the tiniest bit - and he seriously considers tucking a hoodie in between to protect his belly.
He refrains in the end though, to avoid awkward questions.

The stop at Acorn Farm is surprisingly fun.

They sign Fizzy and the twins up for horseback riding, which has about an hour-long line-up, and spend the time as they wait feeding and petting farm animals of various sizes.
Fizzy falls in love with a giant grey and white rabbit, and Lottie gets caught up in one of the sheepdogs.
There are lambs and baby-goats as well - kids, Phoebe corrects with an eye roll much too similar to Louis’ - and a bunch of fluffy yellow chicks that seems to follow Dan everywhere.

After the girls get their turns with the horses, they buy sandwiches for lunch at the small café, and then pay for another half-hour to visit the smaller animals, because they didn’t take enough pictures the first time around, apparently.
Before they leave, Harry and Louis treats everyone to goat milk-ice cream - which they make sure to eat before getting into the car - and Jay buys a couple of cheeses in the shop.

When they arrive at the cabin it’s nearly four, and Dan’s aunt and uncle has made soup and bread rolls for dinner.
It’s nice to sit and eat with them, though neither Harry nor Louis adds much to the conversation. The twins talks enough for all of them anyway, loudly speaking over each other as they retell everything they did at the farm excitedly.

The older Deakin’s leaves after dinner, going home for a few days so their family can enjoy the place by themselves. It’s incredibly kind of them, and also very understandable, as the place isn’t too big, and the Tomlinson’s are good at filling the space they’re in. It sure took Harry a few visits to get used to the constant noise and ..liveliness when he first entered the family.

They don’t go to the beach that day due to them arriving too late; but the sky’s been full of heavy, grey clouds and the wind is making branches knock against the window on the left side of the house anyway, so it’s not like they’ve missed out.

There are three bedrooms; the master one which Jay and Dan takes, one with bunk beds for the twins and then one with a tiny double bed that Lottie and Louis has a thrilling match of rock, paper, scissors over.
Louis comes out winning, so he moves their stuff into it while Harry helps set up the pull-out couch for the oldest girls.

“If you think you two get to sleep in any longer than us just because you’ve got privacy, you’re very wrong.” Lottie says as thanks. Harry has no trouble believing her.

--

As promised, they’re awoken by loud knocks on the door, sleep clinging to their eyes and bones as it flies open a second later, and the twins urges them out of bed so they can eat breakfast.
They’ve been sleeping in their boxers, so they hastily throw some t-shirts on, and stumble out to a already fully decked and seated dining table.

“Sleep well?” Jay asks. Lottie makes a poor attempt at hiding her smirk when Louis yawns in return.

“Yeah, thanks.” Harry replies not completely honestly. The mattress is a bit lumpy, and the two of them have sort of gotten used to sleeping further apart lately, so it felt a bit cramped as well. “You?” He asks as he sits down in the only available chair, Louis already having grabbed a seat and started plating up food.

“Don’t really get much sleep these days.” She replies easily, a hand resting gently on the round of her belly. “Just a bunch of power naps.” Sadly, the conversation moves on before Harry can ask anything else pregnancy-related, so he tunes out instead, and focuses on trying to work up an appetite. He’s never been one to be hungry early in the mornings, and it’s not even nine yet.

By the time he’s finished the second slice of toast, the rest of the family has scattered the table as it has been decided that today will be the beach day. It’s lovely out, the sun is shining and there’s no wind; though the temperature could preferably have been a few numbers higher. Harry still feels half asleep, body heavy and mind groggy, so he clears the table as everyone hurriedly leaves in swimwear and summer dresses, and after a moments consideration decides he might as well do the wash-up once he’s at it.

He hadn’t even realized Louis was still inside until there’s a tentative hand on his hip as he’s pouring the dish soap into the water. “You don’t have to do that.” He says quietly, giving a small squeeze.

“I don’t mind.” Harry replies, finding he actually means it. “Your mum spends enough time on her feet, and I’m sure the girls don’t mind a break from helping out.” Louis leans his forehead against Harry’s shoulder blade.

“Well now you’re just making me look bad.” He whines.

Harry laughs. “No, just go spend time with your family babe, I’ll be done in a few anyway.”

“Only of you’re sure..”

“Yeah. Besides, I’m just gonna let it air-dry, so there’s not really anything for you to do.”

“Alright.” Louis agrees, lingering a second before he bites at Harry’s t-shirt, stretching it out with his teeth. Harry doesn’t comment as the fabric falls back to against skin, damp where Louis’ mouth covered it. He learned long ago not to question Louis’ ways of showing affection.

By the time Harry makes it outside, Louis and Dan are emerging from the water, the both of them screeching and shivering.
Harry is so not going in there.

“Harry!” Dan yells. “It’s your turn.”

“No thank you!” Harry shouts back, hurrying over to where Lottie and the twins are building a sandcastle and offering his services.

He takes his role as Master ShellCollector very seriously, venturing far down the beach to find the prettiest shells and stones available, whilst not even wading out into the freezing sea - leaving that job to Dan, who keeps muttering that he can’t feel his toes anymore as he’s picking up shiny objects with the water lapping at his ankles.

Louis has joined his mum on the blanket up on the beach, towel wrapped tightly around his shoulders as he soaks in the minuscule warmth from the morning sun. Fizzy was with them as well, but she’s left to help with the construction of the castle, and by the looks of it, Louis and his mum has taken advantage of the privacy; their faces serious and heads bent together as they talk.

Harry doesn’t have to contemplate much to figure out what they’re talking about, as the pair keep subtly glancing in his direction.

He wonders how much Jay knows about their current situation; if Louis has told her it’s all Harry’s fault, if he’s retelling stories, or maybe just venting in general out of frustration and confusion. He wouldn’t blame Louis for putting all responsibility on Harry - it is his to take after all - but Jay doesn’t seem mad or disappointed in him. She just seem saddened by it all, really.

Harry sighs, tearing his gaze from the two of them and forcing himself to search the sand for more shells. He’s sure the twins won't be impressed if he shows up with only six of them after nearly twenty minutes of collecting.

The twins doesn’t know anything’s up, that’s easy to tell. Lottie seems like she might be suspicious and Fizzy’s always been harder to read. Dan knows, he’s pretty sure - casting a glance to where he’s focused on the task a few yards behind him - but he’s either too shy or too polite to make any comments. Not that Harry’s complaining about that.

There’s something white-ish shimmering in the sand up on his left, so Harry ventures over to find a rather big shell that turns pale pink when he twists it just right in regards to the sun. Phoebe will probably love it; she’s practically been obsessed with everything pink and purple as long as Harry has known her, whereas Daisy loves all shades of green. He doesn’t find much more, a few rounded stones and a twig that could possibly be used as ..something so with a final overlook at the beach he heads back.

Dan’s already by the castle, Louis as well, and the two of them seem to be constructing a moat around the it. When Harry has dropped off his findings he’s handed a bucket and sent to collect water to fill it up.

The castle is shaping up really well though, with several towers and the shells and stones placed carefully around on the walls.
Harry’s a tiny bit proud that the large pink-ish shell is placed above the bridge that connects the castle with the land behind the moat, like a prized possession greeting everyone who approaches.
He empties the fourth bucket, glad to see the sand doesn’t absorb it all this time, and saunters off towards the shoreline again.

He should’ve seen it coming, probably, but he’s honestly caught completely by surprise when a body slams into his and pushes him down in the freezing water - the last thing he hears before he goes under being Louis‘ gleeful laughter.

Twenty minutes later, Harry takes a two-minute shower to try and force some warmth back into his body, and steps out to the smell of goats cheese sandwiches. They’ve just been put in the oven, so he offers to set the table while everyone else try to rid themselves of the remains of sand and seawater clinging to their skin, either using the shower, wet towels or the outdoors hose that’s filled with barely-lukewarm water.

His mouth is watering as Dan brings the sandwiches out of the oven and the rest of the family quickly flock to the table, nearly all of them burning their fingers as they’re too impatient to wait for the food to proper cool down.

“The ones in the far right corner are Jay’s!” Dan all but shouts before anyone can claim them. “They’re without pesto.” Harry carefully drops the newly acclaimed food in his hand down to the plate.

“Can you not eat pesto while pregnant?” He asks, worriedly. It’s not like he can grab one of hers, but he could, like, pretend not to be hungry and just not eat at all? His stomach gives a disapproving growl at the mere thought.

“I get itchy when I eat nuts, and pesto has pine nuts in them.” She says, waving a hand in a dismissive gesture. “It’s a individual thing, just like how I can’t have onions.” She adds.

Harry nods, trying not to let the relief show on his face as he takes a big bite. “Goats cheese is the one you actually have to be careful with.” Dan informs nonchalantly. Harry’s just about two seconds away from spitting his food out on the table. He glances at Jay, who seems to be eating the same cheese as everyone else, and forces himself to swallow, the sharp crusts of the bread practically cutting his throat.

“As long as it’s baked proper there’s no worries.” Jay assures, taking a bite as well. Harry draws a deep breath and continues to eat his lunch, though he suddenly doesn’t feel as hungry anymore.

He volunteers to clean up again, and Louis insists to help this time.

“Hey, didn’t we pass like a stand with local produce on the way down here? Like up on that road?”

“We did, yeah.” Louis confirms as he grabs the dry plates and shoves them in the cabinet. “Why? You wanna go there?”

“Yes. Come with me? We can walk, I’m sure it won't take too long, and we’ll buy some berries and stuff- I can make a pie for dessert!”

“Yeah, alright.” Louis agrees, though he doesn’t seem too enthusiastic. Well, that’s not much of a surprise though - when the two of them spend time together alone these days it’s often accompanied by awkward silences.

They leave right after they’ve finished washing up, gathering their phones and cash and promising to call if they want to get picked up.

The walk up takes a good twenty minutes. There are tree’s lining up one side of the road, and the temperature seems significantly lower in the shadowed area, so Harry and Louis walk closely together in the sun for as long as possible.
They don’t talk much, letting the sounds of nature and the gravel crunching underneath their feet break the silence - but for once it’s actually peaceful rather than tense, and it’s a very welcome change indeed.

When they get to a fork in the road they bicker back and forth about which way to go, but Louis is determined that he’s right, so Harry gives in, even though he’s not quite convinced yet.

“I really like this place.” He admits as they carry on up the road, passing the occasional cottage along the way. He has a urge to take Louis’ hand in his, but for some reason he thinks it would just feel weird, or unnatural maybe? He could even go as far as saying it‘ll come across as a forced gesture. He’s not sure when their relationship came to this, but he’s certain it’s his own fault.

“Yeah, yeah me too. It’s. I dunno, peaceful?”

“It is. Like, it makes you forget about all the stress of everyday life, I think.” Louis hums in response, wringing his hands in front of stomach for a second - which instinctively makes Harry touch his own - before trying to shove them into the non-existent pockets of his shorts. Harry knows his mannerisms enough to tell he’s either nervous or uncomfortable.

He wishes he could make it go away.

“See!” Louis suddenly exclaims, pointing further up the road; and there it is, the stand filled with colorful berries and fruit, and a few vegetables as well, a bored teenager with her eyes glued to her phone sitting behind it.

“Fine, fine, you were right.” Harry relents with a put-on sigh.

“Damn right I was! I always am, I keep telling you!” Harry rolls his eyes, but he’s not able to fight back the smile that graces his lips. Your papa is a competitive one he thinks, giving his stomach a small pat and then quickly squashing that thought down and away.

 --

Harry never really, like, considered maternity clothes or the fact that they exist. Obviously he knew that they did - like somewhere in the back of his mind - but it’s not something he’s paid any attention to or anything, until he notices that Jay’s wearing them. It’s a pair of knee-length jeans, simple and blue and perfectly fitting for her thighs, and it’s only when she stretches that he sees the soft-looking, blue fabric that is attached to the waistline.

For some reason, it feels like an epiphany.

He’s not sure what he previously thought. Maybe that they just wore really low-cut jeans that ended underneath the bump? Though that would probably be uncomfortable. Anyway, the point is, he kinda wants a pair.

“Are they comfy?” He blurts, eyes widening as he realizes that he spoke out loud. Jay looks puzzled. Seeing as he already asked, he might as well clarify and get an actual answer. “Your, um, jeans?”

“Oh!” She replies, pulling down the hem of her top, smiling. “They are, yeah! They don’t press against my belly at all, but they still fit my legs, it’s brilliant, really.”

“They look really normal.” Harry offers. “Like, I didn’t realize they were special until you stretched just now.” She shrugs like she doesn’t care if anyone knows she’s wearing maternity clothes - which she obviously doesn’t, christ, she’s seven months along with twins; it’s not like she could fool anyone. But for Harry, who’s only six weeks along with a non-existent baby, it is exciting news. He could probably wear a pair and no one would suspect a thing. As long as he doesn’t stretch too much.

“Do you wear your normal size?” He asks.

“Well, I bought these when I was pregnant with the last set of twins. So I’m normally a size bigger these days, but the fabric is stretchy anyway, so they still fit.”

“They do.” He agrees, it’s probably unnecessary as she obviously already know that, but she smiles and thanks him either way, so.

--

It’s their last day at the beach house, and it’s been pouring down the whole day. The sandcastle is nothing but a muddy pile with some half-buried decoration, and the cottage is filled with humid air, despite the fact that all the windows and doors have been open for hours.

He made two pies yesterday; both with a homemade blackberry, red currant and rhubarb jam-filling, a simple pie base and a crumble topping. They’d finished one of them after dinner, Harry preening with all the praise he got, and they’ve decided to eat the second one now, accompanied by the vanilla ice cream that Dan and the twins bought at a local shop earlier in the morning. They’ve collectively decided against heating it up though, as it’s not very tempting with hot food when they’re all dripping with sweat.

“It’s typical that the warmest day this summer is a rainy one.” Jay says as she takes a break from cutting up the pie to retie her hair up. Harry hums in agreement from where he’s currently spooning vanilla ice cream onto plates.

“It’s bloody awful!” Fizzy agrees as she walks over to grab another two plates to put at the table where the rest of the family is waiting to play a game of Uno. Jay gives her a stern look. “Well it is!” She defends. Harry’s pretty sure she only gets away with it because Louis is here, and he says it all the time.

Playing games and watching movies is all well and fun, but it also makes them a bit restless - them being Louis and the twins, mainly. There’s not enough room for them to unleash inside, so after Louis’ leg jiggles against Harry’s for the hundredth time, he suggests they go outside and play a game of tag with the youngest.

“But it’s raining!” Phoebe protests with wide eyes, looking out of the window as if to double check.

“We’ll just put the wet clothes in a bag and then right in the wash when we get home tomorrow.” Harry reasons, casting a glance at Jay to find her nodding in agreement. “You girls can even get the first shower when we get back inside!”

“And I’ll make some bread rolls for supper.” Jay offers, and it appears that’s all the convincing they need, really.

They dress in sweat pants and long sleeved shirts and wellingtons, but don’t bother with raincoats as they’re gonna get soaked anyway.

The beach is pretty much a large muddy field, so it’s difficult to run - they’re all panting within minutes of chasing each other. Their pants are plastered with sand and their shirts clinging to their skin in a combination of sweat and water, but it’s fun, it makes Harry feel sort of free and like a child again, as their laughter is swallowed up by the drumming sound of rain.
It doesn’t take too long before their spare energy is gone though. The temperature is sinking as day turns to evening, and their wet clothes soon turn uncomfortably cold.
Phoebe and Daisy finally give up and walk over to the porch where they take off everything but their underwear and shake the worst of the sand off, before stuffing the clothes in one of the plastic bags Jay has left by the door.

Harry and Louis were sternly told to stay outside while they wait for the bathroom to be available, which is very understandable - Harry certainly doesn’t feel like mopping up dirty rainwater all over the house - but he’s sort of regretting the decision now, as he really doesn’t want to catch pneumonia and, like, die.

“You know what we’ve never done?” Louis yells, even though he’s only a couple of feet away from Harry. The sound hardly carries through the rain anyway.

“What?” Harry shouts back. Louis looks a bit unsure, probably wonders if Harry meant what have we never done or what I can’t hear you. “What haven’t we done?”

“Proper kiss in the rain!” And, yeah, that’s true actually. They have kissed in the rain before; in raincoats when they’re out walking in a light drizzle, or during a downpour, protected underneath an umbrella, but never like this. And certainly not when they haven’t kissed each other for - what is it now, three days? He’s not sure when they stopped kissing each other goodnight and good morning.

It’s a sad realization.

“Come here then.” He mumbles, even though he knows Louis won’t hear him. He makes a grab for him as well though, curling his hand around Louis’ hip and pulling him close. A gust of wind makes the rain come sideways, hitting from Harry’s right and leaving a stinging sensation against his cheek. They both shiver with it, but for the first time since they left the warmth of the beach house, Harry isn’t longing to be inside.

Louis’ smile is shy, his eyes are downcast and there are raindrops sticking to his lashes.

Harry doesn’t like being out in the rain; he hates the feeling of wet, heavy clothes sticking to his skin, and he hates the cold that seeps into his bones and stays there for hours after he’s dried up again. He doesn’t like it when the rain hits him like prickling needles, nor does he like the suffocating clamminess that fills the air even if it’s only drizzling.
And yet, as he’s standing there in what he’s pretty sure is the definition of rainstorm, he thinks that this might actually be one of his favorite summer memories.

Louis’ lips are cold when they slide against his own. It’s not a very sexy kiss, they’re both getting snotty and have to take breaks to breathe through their mouths every few seconds, and the rain that’s cascading down their faces tend to mix into it all. It’s too wet and it’s too cold but still- it’s intimate in a way he never imagined a kiss in the rain could be.

He’s not sure how long they stand there clutching at each other's clothes and hair and skin, but eventually they register shouting.
Harry‘s the one who breaks it, turning his head towards the house where Dan and the twins are yelling their names from the doorway. It’s like his senses somehow got subdued for a second - and now suddenly he’s overwhelmed by the numb feeling in his fingers and toes, by how loud the rain actually is, and he becomes aware of how he’s not only panting, but his throat feels raw as if he’s been crying.

He can’t tell whether or not he has.

Louis’ forehead is leaning on his shoulder, and Harry can feel the puffs of his breath against the wet fabric, small bursts of warmth that comes far too often for him to be breathing normally. Harry’s fingers are still tangled in the ends of Louis’ hair, and he keeps them there as he leans his temple against the crown of his head, and just breathes.

It’s in a sort of silent agreement that they give themselves a moment before Louis gently untangles himself and Harry lets him go. They never acknowledged the shouts or their family, but they’re not standing there anymore when Harry finally manages to get his legs moving, and follows Louis to the door.

After having rid themselves of everything but their boxers, they enter the house quietly.
There’s a damp towel on the floor in the tiny hallway and they use it to dry off their feet and the drops that are running down their legs and in danger of falling to the floor before they reach the bathroom.

“You can shower together.” Jay says. Harry startles. She’s standing in the doorway that separates the hall from the living room and kitchen, there’s dough and flour on her hands and up her arms, but her entire face bears an expression that is soft and warm. “But be quick, yeah?”

They both nod. The implied meaning of ‘no funny business‘, and ‘don’t spend so long anyone can think there’s any funny business’ might be unsaid, but it’s clearly understood.

They shower and they eat and then they settle down to watch Bewitched with the rest of the family - all without saying a word to each other. Daisy and Phoebe fall asleep halfway into the movie, and Harry moves out of the way as Dan and Louis grabs one girl each so they can put them to bed.

Jay pats the cushion next to her, so Harry takes Daisy’s previous spot, not realizing what’s about to happen until Jay grabs his hand and spreads it out over her bump. He holds his breath, not wanting to miss even the slightest movement, but he quickly finds he had nothing to worry about - it’s only seconds later that he feels the whole of a spine pressing and sliding against his palm as if the baby’s doing a forward roll in there.

There must be wonder written all over his face as he gapes up at Jay, mouth open and eyes wide, because she laughs at him in a giddy sort of way. There’s another movement by the tip of his pinky, and just as he registers it Jay moves his hand there so that he can feel the thumping. An elbow, or a knee perhaps?

“Does it hurt?” He whispers, turning completely towards her and bringing his other hand up so he can cover more of her belly. She moves it a bit to the left and Harry immediately feels something against that palm as well.

“No.” She says softly, before making a slight grimace. “Well, sometimes when they hit my ribs or organs. Or if it’s a particularly hard jab with a sharp bone. But most of the time it’s like.. butterflies, or perhaps tickles?”

Tickles.

etting belly-tickles from the inside by a tiny unborn baby.

He focuses on how lucky he is to feel this through Jay‘s skin, and tries his best not to think about the fact that he’ll never get to experience it firsthand.

Harry literally jolts as a hand reaches around his waist. He recognizes it as Louis’ and feels a bit baffled as he never registered him coming back into the room, and yet there he is, sitting behind him on the couch. He moves one of his hands so that Louis can feel the babies as well, guiding it to where he felt the last kick and intertwines their fingers - his palm to the back of Louis’ hand.
Louis presses up closer to his back and rests his chin against Harry’s shoulder, and for a moment Harry closes his eyes and pretends that they’re touching the baby in his own stomach, feeling it kick against their hands as a greeting.

So close, yet so, so far from what he really wants.

The babies settle down eventually and the movie has already ended, and Harry reluctantly realizes he can’t be sitting there touching Jay’s stomach for the rest of the night. He opts for bed instead.

I’ll never have that kind of a relation to my own child. That’s the only thought that runs through his mind as he goes through his nighttime routine. But someone else will. And that’s the thing, isn’t it? Because no matter how he gets children, through adoption or surrogacy - though he can’t quite stomach that idea yet - said child will have a mother. And said mother will have a connection to that baby as it grows in her belly for nine months, and it’s a bond so special, so unique, and-

His eyes sting, so he spits and rinses his toothbrush before putting on the cold face wash. It’s a pleasant distraction.

If only for so long.

Because even if the mother doesn’t want the child, even if she hates being pregnant, she’ll still get something Harry can never have, and it stings in the absolute worst way. It’s just so unfair.

“Haz?” Louis’ voice is followed by two soft knocks. Harry cleans his face with lukewarm water before he unlocks and pushes open the door. “Y’alright?”

“Yeah.” He replies, turning back to the sink to gather up his things. “Just. Been a long day.” Louis nods, stepping into the bathroom but not closing the door. Harry takes it as his cue to leave.

It’s not long till Louis crawls into the bed, curling up against Harry’s back, but not cuddling him.

Harry’s life and mind might be a right mess at the moment, but at least there’s one thing he can do. He rolls over to face his boyfriend and gives him a soft kiss goodnight. It’s not much, but it’s a step in the right direction.

--

Harry gets more acquainted with the downs of pregnancy the very next day. Namely, Jay gets a bit hormonal.
First she snaps at Dan when he puts the wrong mustard on her hotdog at a gas stop, almost throwing said thing on the ground before Harry pries it out her grip and offers to eat it while Dan gets a new one for her.
Then she starts bawling about how big the Daisy and Phoebe have gotten, before moving on to sobbing on Louis’ shoulder about how he’s so grownup he’ll start his own family any day now.

Lottie laughs at Harry’s expression and tells him things like these happen at least once a week.

It’s daunting, and Harry thinks maybe, just maybe, he could use it to his own advantage.

It’s one of the first things he does when they get back home after the week spent with Louis’ family - he googles bad pregnancy stories.

And god are there a lot of unpleasant ones; containing sensitive breasts and blood and stretch marks everywhere, stomach pains and gas and feeling out of breath for nine months straight. There are women who gets morning sickness twenty-four-seven all through their pregnancy and are triggered by all sorts of smells. Some gets mental health issues as well, like depression or anxiety. There are painful hips, and bloated bodies and some are evenunable to walk - and that’s not mentioning the birth.

And yet, yet, they all say it was worth it. Even those few who never wants to go through it again; they say that they love their child and that they’ll never regret having it. So how is this supposed to make Harry get over his obsession?
Because it doesn’t. And especially not when there are stories of amazing pregnancies as well, those nuggets of pure gold that has Harry smiling so large it hurts, has a wet sheen of tears blurring his vision.
The only thing he draws from it all, really, is that feeling the baby move is the most wonderful thing ever.

Also - he may be going a bit too easy on himself with this pregnancy.

There’s not much he can do though, is there? He can’t really force himself to have body pains, he can’t make himself bloated. He‘s not gonna munch on beans and cabbage to get gassy, nor can he eat twice as much as he usually would - that would be uncomfortable to say the least. And he’s not gonna stick his finger down his throat to pretend he has morning sickness either.
Besides, his gag reflex is a bit too good for that anyway. It’s a blessing and a curse.

He does some things though.
Sometimes, he’ll pinch and twist his nipples till they get sensitive and pretend that it’s caused by the pregnancy and not himself. Occasionally, he’ll run or jog till his insides hurt.
And when he feels tired or has aches in his lower back, he blames that on the pregnancy as well.

He looks up yoga poses for pregnant woman and incorporates some into his regular routines, and he cuts more food from the diet - as recommended by the forums he’s back to frequenting.

They also recommend to keep a healthy sexlife, and he’s tried to initiate it a few times but-  At least he has managed to keep up with the tradition of kisses when they wake up and before going to sleep.

--

The weeks pass quickly, and it seems like September comes out of nowhere, with a kick of reality and school that’s about to start.

They’ve both been working almost every day over the summer to save up money for rents and other necessities during the semester, but they do manage to fit in meals together when they work the same hours, at least. Books and other school supplies have already made a nice little dent in their savings, and Harry tries his best not to look at the numbers in his bank account and instead tells himself that all of it is already bookmarked for stuff. Important stuff.

Still. He needs a new pair of jeans - holey knees are not very practical in windy and rainy autumn weather - so he treks into H&M before his work shift in search of a decent pair, preferably on sale.
The men’s sale rack is depressingly empty, save for shorts and ugly t-shirts left over from the summer season. He does find a pair of light blue jeans, and even though they’re a size too big, he grabs them to try on. You never know, they could be wrongly labeled or something.

He passes another sale rack on the way to the changing rooms, and figures he might find something there, even though he knows they’re woman’s clothes. He likes his jeans tight though, honestly, it wouldn’t be the first time he bought something from the ‘wrong’ side of the store.
It doesn’t take long to realize, however, that these aren’t regular clothes; he pulls out a white and black striped sweater and finds ruffled excess fabric sewn on the sides of the waist - perfect to stretch out for a large round belly. This prompts him to look up at the wall, and he is faced with a black and white picture of a smiling, pregnant lady. He swallows loudly as he hangs the sweater back.

He should walk away, shouldn’t he- but there are at least five pair of pants hanging to his left, and he really does need some new ones. He’ll just… look.

He’s not quite sure what size he wears in woman’s clothing, but he’s good at guessing sizes and he needs to try clothes on anyway, so.

Two pairs are green, and one is beige, but all three of them are definitely too big for him. That leaves two black pairs that looks like jeans, though they feel softer. But, they’re a bit different from the others. Instead of the large expanse of attached soft, stretchy fabric, these ones just have a high waist, There’s no button, the zipper is just seams for decoration and the front is shaped sort of like a broad belt in a different fabric than the rest of the jeans.

They’re still stretchy though, he finds as he pulls at the waist, still leaves room for some extra belly. Maybe they’re for earlier in the pregnancy, when the belly has just started develop and you just need something that doesn’t feel too tight? Which. Is where he is.

The fabric is of the annoying kind that attracts all types of hairs and dust and looks dirty before you’ve even pulled them out of your closet. Still, beggars can’t be choosers, or whatever, he grabs both pairs and hurries into a cubicle to try the clothes on.

In an act of, like, self-restraint or something, he tries the men’s jeans first. They’re baggy at the crotch and too big around the waist, and they have bow shaped legs that really does not fit his body at all. Honestly, he’d rather go naked than wear those, so he kicks them off quickly and goes for the maternity pants - the smallest pair first.

They don’t fit, and it’s a sinking feeling. They’re so tight he can only get them two thirds up his thighs, and the holes at the ankles are ridiculously small, squeezing uncomfortably around his foot as he tries to push it through. It takes almost twice as long to pry them back off.
The second pair is tight as well, but they actually fit. Besides, they’ll stretch out a bit, pants always do.
It’s amazing how comfortable they are at the waist as well, not pressing even the slightest, and giving his love handles loads of space to breathe, yet they don’t feel too loose or big. It’s perfect. Everyone should have jeans like these. And at only ten quid they’re a bargain. He’s buying them, he is.

“Um, are you sure these are what you want?” The girl behind the counter asks - rather rudely - while holding them up for the world to see. Clearly she didn’t understand why he balled the pants up and tried to slide them carefully onto the desk. “You are aware that these are maternity pants, right?” As to prove her point she pulls at the label on the inside of the waist and holds it out to show where it clearly says MAMA.

“I- um- Yeah.” Harry stutters as a young blonde guy, wearing sunglasses - inside. In September. - and a snapback gets into line behind him. “They’re for my sister.” He blurts. The cashier eyes him skeptically, before sighing out an okay and holding the pants high in the air to fold them. Harry’s pretty sure he’s never felt more uncomfortable in his life.

In spite of that though, he feels as if there’s champagne-bubbles popping inside of his tummy as he leaves the store with the shopping bag in hand.

--

Louis is distancing himself from Harry, it’s easy to tell. It’s nearing the end of September and they’ve both got their schedules for the semester, but they’ve yet to discuss it.
They have to though, soon - uni’s already started and they always make sure to know each others timetables, to make plans around work and school so they still see each other regularly - it fucks with Harry’s mind that Louis hasn’t seemed interested so far.

There’s also the matter of the lease on their flat expiring in late October - as they only get to sign for a year at a time.
They’re gonna re-sign it, Harry’s pretty sure, because why wouldn’t they? But..

But.

Harry’s nine weeks pregnant now.

He wears his new pants as often as he can, and Louis’ hasn’t noticed them, or at least not that anything’s different with them. He’s started wearing a small lint roller in his bag at all times, because he has to use it several times a day, but it’s worth it for the feeling he gets whenever he strokes his palm over the stretched, riled fabric of the belt-part and remembers.

He reads up on the development of the baby week for week online - currently the baby is growing inner as well as reproductive organs, his eyes and ears are moving to the right places and he’s started to unconsciously move around, though Harry won't be feeling it for quite some time.
He’s also been going to the bathroom more, which is normal because of increased blood volume. The fact that he’s drinking more these days has nothing to do with it.

It’s a Sunday morning - and there’s another tradition they’re still clinging to. Though, lately, they don’t talk much, instead they just watch something on Netflix and pretend that everything’s normal. They’ve gotten really good at that.

Harry’s making breakfast and Louis is sleeping in, as has become the norm. He sleeps a lot these days, and yet the circles under his eyes are darker than ever. 

Harry doesn’t sleep much at all, there are too many thoughts circling his head.

“Morning.” he says as he hears soft footsteps coming across the floor. The food’s nearly ready, so Harry’s pretty sure it was the smell that woke his boyfriend up. There’s a reply, but the word is too muffled and sleepy for Harry to make out. He turns and they kiss - short and dry - before Harry turns back to the food and Louis takes the plates down from the cupboard.

They’re halfway through an episode of fresh prince that he‘s seen before, Harry’s finished his food and with nothing to keep him busy he’s getting fidgety. He knows Louis can tell from where he’s nibbling on a dry piece of toast. His body is a bit tense and he’s focusing way too much on the show - Harry wants to talk, and Louis knows, because his entire body posture is asking Harry not to.

As soon as the episode is done, Louis announces he needs to go do some school stuff, and disappears out the door before Harry can even ask when he’ll be back.

He spends the rest of the day cleaning the flat and talking to their baby.

Papa loves you, he does. He’s just a bit distracted right now that’s all. Don’t you worry baby, and Daddy won’t either, okay? We’ll be alright, the three of us. Promise.

--

It’s two weeks later that he breaks that promise. It’s a Tuesday, and Harry kills his baby boy.

He wakes up with an awful tummy ache, feeling nauseous and disoriented. A glance at his alarm tells him he must’ve somehow turned it off without even noticing, because he’s late. He was supposed to be at the medical centre an hour ago. Fuck.

He doesn’t eat, just grabs an apple from the bowl at the counter on his way out the door. His hair's a mess and he’s pretty sure his clothes are dirty, but he’s got no time to fix it now, he just needs to get there. He takes three large bites of the apple as he hurries down the street, and then stops at a bin halfway down the road to spit it back out. He’s so, so nauseas, but he can see the bus down the road so he doesn’t have time to throw up.

The bus ride isn’t a long one, thank god, because the constant movement isn’t exactly doing wonders for him at the moment. He spends most of it trying to find a hair band so he can put his greasy hair up and away, but as luck would have it, he doesn’t have one on him. He sighs as he gets up from his seat and off the bus, only allowing himself to bend over for a few seconds and take a big breath as he gets out in the fresh air. His stomach clenches uncomfortably.

There are two staircases and a long hallway to get the office, and by the time he enters the waiting area he’s sweaty and out of breath. What a great first impression.

“Hi. Um, I’m part of the student group, I’m a bit late?” He offers to the lady at the counter, who gives him a not too impressed once-over.

“Name?” She asks, clipped but somehow still polite.

“Harry Styles.”

She looks over a piece of paper before she nods and waves at a closed door. “Through there and the third door to your right - it says Herman Willard on the door.” Harry barely manages to thank her as acid crawls up his throat. He covers it with a pained smile as rushes through.

When he finds the door he knocks lightly on it and strains to hear a answer that never comes. Instead, the door opens and he’s faced with a grey-haired man, who takes one look at him and then steps out of the office, closing the door behind him. “Mr. Styles, I assume?”

“Yes.” Harry replies, sticking his hand out to greet him. “Harry Styles. I’m so sorry I’m late-”

“I expect punctuality and professionalism from the students I take on.” Willard says, cutting him off. Harry lets his hand drop.  "And today you’ve showed neither. This is your first strike. Get three of those and you will find yourself without a practice-spot this semester. Got it?”

He only manages a nod in return; he’s exhausted and sick and that always makes him emotional, so he keeps his mouth shut in case he starts sobbing or something equally ridiculous. He can already feel his eyes prickling.

“We’ll be done with the current patient in a few minutes. You can wait out here meanwhile. The next one is yours.” With that, he returns to the office and leaves Harry out in what he quickly realizes is a gym. There are a few people doing various exercises while pretending not to look at him, and he feels his face heat up in embarrassment. He spends the time while waiting making sure his clothes look at least halfway decent, and resist the urge to run for the bathroom he saw in the hallway. He’s not risking another strike on his first day.

Soon enough, the door to the office opens again, and a man exits, Willard right behind him followed by four other students.
The other students - three girls and a boy - pile up next to Harry while Willard follows the patient out, only to return a moment later with an elderly lady in return.

“Bertha, this is Harry.” He introduces as he leads her over. Harry steps forward to greet her. “He will be your physiotherapist today, as a part of the practice program.” Bertha shakes Harry’s hand but doesn’t seem too pleased with him, as her eyes track over his clothes and loose hair. It probably doesn’t help that he’s sweaty and pale as well.
Willard quickly introduces the other students to her as Harry fights another strong wave of nausea, before he turns back to Harry. “Bertha has had a hip replacement, and is going to go through her usual exercises, which you will monitor.” He informs, and Harry nods, trying to give her a warm smile, but ending up making a grimace instead as he swallows some bile.

It goes slowly, and it’s not just because Harry feels like shit. Bertha is a very persistent woman; she makes her distaste for him clear, and she refuses to take his advice or do any of the exercises he tries to add to her routine, instead turning to Willard every time Harry suggests something and waiting for his input.

It probably doesn’t help when, twenty minutes into the appointment, Harry has to literally run for the toilet as he can’t hold back his urge to vomit anymore.

The single stall bathroom is thankfully empty as Harry barges in, slamming the door behind him and dropping to his knees before he’s even reached the toilet. He starts gagging right away, his entire body shaking with it, and he doesn’t dare lifting the toilet ring in case he pukes all over it.

He’s just started on the second round of hurling when he feels fingers carding through his hair, pulling it up and securing it in a elastic band.

“There, there.” A female says, as a hand strokes over his back. It’s too warm and his back is clammy, so really, he’d rather not be touched right now, but he’s not impolite enough to shrug her off. The hand leaves him a few seconds later though, as Harry starts spitting stomach acid and his body stops convulsing.
He vaguely registers the sound of water before he’s gently urged to lean back and some cold, wet paper is pressed to his face. “Y’alright?” The girl asks. Harry looks up to see it’s another one of the students.

He lets out a choked laugh. “I’d say yes, but..” The girl laughs along with him as she throws away the wad of paper and offers him some dry ones.

“I’ll be right back.” She assures and then leaves, closing the door behind her. He takes a moment to breathe, his stomach’s feeling calm now that he’s emptied it, but his limbs are heavy and sore. When she returns, it’s with his bag and a cup of water. “Here.” She says as she hands him both, “You can go back home, Willard approved. Feel better, yeah?”

“Thank you.” Harry calls after her as she leaves the bathroom, heading left to get back to the rest of the group. She turns around to give him a smile and a shrug, and then she’s gone, leaving Harry to rinse his mouth and pretend he doesn’t feel like shit.

He stops by a small store and buys a bottle of orange juice before he gets on the bus. Half of it goes down in small sips, before he hastily exits the bus one stop early and throws up in a ditch.

It’s after he’s made it into bed that the thought hits him; I’m having a miscarriage. His throat burns as he leans over the edge of the bed and gags into the bucket he’s placed there, nothing but acid coming up as his stomach is empty.
He falls asleep in a mess of tears and snot.

It must be a few hours later when he blinks awake. He’s expecting a putrid smell in the air and to feel sweaty and disgusting, so he’s definitely surprised to find the window open and the room cool and fresh.
There’s a glass of water on the nightstand, as well as two pills and some plain biscuits. The bucket has been emptied as well, then refilled with an inch of water.
He’s still impossibly tired and his body is aching all over, so he only swallows the pills with a couple of sips of water and nibbles on half a biscuit before he surrenders to the bed once again.

When he wakes up for a second time it’s dark, but the bed is still empty save for him.
He needs to pee - lord knows why, as he’s practically dehydrated - so he climbs out of bed on shaky legs. The entire flat is dark as well, save for the blue-ish flickering glow of what he assumes to be the television coming from the living room. After he’s done in the bathroom he goes out there to find Louis curled up underneath a blanket on the couch, fast asleep.
Harry turns the telly off and tucks a piece of hair away from Louis’ face before he returns to his own bed, not wanting Louis to catch what he has.

Miscarriages aren’t contagious his brain supplies, but Harry only reminds himself that there never was a baby in the first place. And there certainly isn’t one now.

He hates being sick. It’s never made him feel this hollow though.

--

He’s back to normal by Friday. Or, physically anyway.

If his mind was a jumbled mess before, well..
It’s not so much grieve over his lost baby as it is an immense wave of guilt. He’s the one who terminated the pregnancy. It was his choice. Sure he was weak and sick and feeling sorry for himself, but that’s no excuse for what he did.

He killed his baby because he couldn’t handle a simple 48-hour flu. How the fuck is he supposed to manage to take care of a real child one day?

The fact that he can’t talk to Louis about it doesn’t exactly make it better either. The boy can tell that something’s wrong, but Harry can’t talk about it, can’t explain what’s going on or why he’s being so withdrawn these days.

Well, you see, I’ve been imagining a pregnancy for my own pleasure the whole summer and then ended said pregnancy because I was feeling sick, and now I’m kinda mourning the loss? Also, looking at you makes me feel even worse because it was your baby too, so it feels like I’ve ruined a lot for the both of us.

Right.

--

One week passes, and then another. Their relationship is strained at best - they don’t talk, don’t touch.
Harry’s submerged himself in a tiny bubble of guilt and misery and self-loathing and he spends all his energy pretending to be fine when he’s at school or work; which leaves him as nothing but an empty shell whenever Louis is around.

They’ve stopped kissing as well - it feels wrong, somehow, for Harry to receive Louis’ affections when all he’s done is ruin their relationship and kill the son Louis never knew he had.

He doesn’t meet his friends or talk to his family either though. He’s shutting them all out, doesn’t want to lie to more people than necessary. Louis doesn’t try to get him to talk, has given up completely, it seems.

Harry doesn’t blame him.

“Harry?” Louis says as he enters the bedroom. Harry slams the lid on his laptop shut as soon as he registers Louis’ presence - he shouldn’t be looking at maternity clothes on sale anyway - and looks up to find Louis’ expression stone cold. “I’m going up to mum’s for the weekend.” He informs, his voice emotionless even as he glances at the computer.

“Oh.” Harry stutters. It’s Thursday night, usually Louis would’ve informed him sooner.

“Dan’s going away for something work related, and the twins has come down with something. Mum can barely move around with how big she’s gotten so I offered to help.”

“Okay, yeah sure. Um, I work tomorrow and Saturday, but maybe Joshua could cover for me, he said he wouldn’t mind-”

“It’s fine.” Louis says, cutting him off mid-rant. “Don’t fret.”

“No but I can probably work it out though I mean-”

“Harry. I- I’ll go alone.” It’s not up for discussion, Harry realizes, as Louis starts shoving some clothes into his backpack.

“Now?” He asks baffled. Louis has classes tomorrow, he’s pretty sure.

Louis shrugs. “I’ll see you Sunday.” He offers, taking a look around the room before letting his gaze set on Harry. There’s a wet sheen to his eyes. It feels like Harry’s taken a punch to the stomach.

“Okay.” He whispers back, physically unable to talk any louder. There are three more words he wants to say, needs to say, but they get stuck somewhere on the way out.

And then Louis is gone.

Harry spends that night and most of Friday in bed, crying. He’s feeling awful, feels like he’s lost everything, like he’s lost. He sends a text in the middle of the night, saying I love you. At two pm, it still remains unanswered.

He’s got work at four and he forces himself to go - if anything they still need money. Well, if ‘they’ even exist anymore.
He wants to call his mum and have her comfort him but he doesn’t deserve her kind words and soothing voice. So he washes his pink, bloated face and pastes on a fake smile before leaving the flat.

He’s come to a realization by the time he’s closing up the store at nine; this is the wake-up call he needed.

Because Louis is willing to walk away now, he can tell. And the thing is; he’d rather lose Louis because he’s a weirdo with an unhealthy obsession with pregnancies, than lose him because Louis thinks Harry doesn’t want him anymore.

Harry will always want Louis - and it’s about time he makes Louis realize that. If this relationship ends it will not be on Harry alone. It won’t.

—

He spends the rest of the weekend trying to figure out how to come clean to Louis. By Sunday, his only plan is to wing it.
He’s tried for a few speeches, said things out loud to himself, but it all sounds rehearsed and flat, and if there’s one thing Louis deserves after all of this, it’s honesty.

So that’s what he’ll get. Straight from the heart and all that.

Well, he has one more part to the plan, the sentimental idiot that he is. Which is why, at six pm on Sunday night, Harry is making breakfast.

He does make it a bit more special than the usual fry-up though.
The toast is swapped for garlic bread, the tomatoes are drizzled with oil and pepper and popped in the oven, and the eggs are made into an omelet along with some cheese and mushrooms.

There’s also a bottle of red to go with it all - the same brand they had on their first proper date and every anniversary since. It’ll forever remind him of Louis anyway, and it seemed appropriate to serve it at what might be the last night of their relationship.

His stomach has been in a giant knot all day, and his throat blocked by a lump the size of the moon. He’s hardly eaten, but he’s not hungry at all anyway, and he knows that Louis loses his appetite when he’s in emotional distress as well; so this entire meal might be for naught.
But oh well, the timer’s got five minutes to go and Louis could walk in the door any second, so there’s no time to dwell on that now. He makes sure that the underside of the omelet isn’t burnt, and then grabs the lighter from the bowl on the counter.

The living room has been somewhat rearranged for the occasion. The pillows from the couch are now placed on the floor with a blanket in between to work as the table, as he figured it was probably best to have this conversation proper face to face.
The cutlery and wine glasses are already placed, as are some tea lights to create a more romantic atmosphere. He hasn’t dimmed the lights just yet, figured it would be better to do that after he’s carried out the plates of food.

He’s got five out of seven candles lit when the unmistakable sound of a key being inserted in its lock rings through the otherwise quiet flat. Harry stills, literally freezes with the flame an inch away from the wick, as he stares at the door that’s being opened, a wet Louis stepping through before he stops at the sight in front of him.

“I. Um- dinner?” Harry offers, as he forces himself to light the last two candles.

“Okay? I’ll, just. Change?” Harry nods and points his thumb at the kitchen to indicate he’ll get the food, and they awkwardly stumble past each other without any other greeting.

The nervousness he’s feeling is rather ridiculous - it’s his boyfriend of nearly two years, the person who knows him the best for christ sake - but he knows deep down that he’s got every right to freak out about this. He has no idea how Louis will react.

He grabs the plates from the oven where he’s kept them warm, and splits the food between the two of them, having to pause every few seconds to shake out his hands to stop them from trembling. Not that it really works. Louis steps into the kitchen just as he‘s adding the tomatoes, wearing his favorite soft sweats and a sweater that used to belong to Harry.

“There’s a bottle of wine in the fridge.” Harry tells him, his voice sounding off and too loud. Louis gets the bottle opener from the drawer and then peers into the fridge, pausing as he sees the brand of wine. He nods to himself, and leaves for the living room with a stiff posture and a tight grip at the neck of the bottle - Harry close behind.

They both pick at their food for several minutes. Harry forces himself to eat the tomatoes, because they’re not very good once cold, but that’s about it. He doesn’t even touch his wine. Louis, on the other hand, is already gulping down his second glass, while he’s only had a couple of bites of the omelet.

“How’s, um, the family?” Harry asks, breaking the looming silence.

“Fine.” Louis returns without as much as looking at him.

“Are the twins feeling better?”

“Yup.”

“Good. That’s.. good. What about-”

“Is there someone else?” Harry drops his fork, the clattering as it hits his plate startling Louis to finally look at him. His expression is stormy - it’s obvious that he’s trying to remain emotionless, and just as obvious that he’s not succeeding.

“Louis,” Harry starts, opening and closing his mouth without continuing. There’s a wave of emotions running through him and he’s not sure where to start.

“Be honest!” Louis says sharply, eyes scrunching into slits. His adam's apple bobs twice as he swallows, his lips are pressed together tightly and his nostrils are flaring. Harry realizes he never turned the ceiling lights off.

“No. I’d never do that to you. I swear.” He has no idea how he manages to keep his so calm.

“Then, what?” Louis ask, visibly deflating. It looks like he’s crumbling; the way he falls in on himself and his face fills with hurt. Harry’s pretty sure he knows what the next question will be, and he can’t bear to hear the words coming from Louis’ lips, so he answers before it’s even asked.

“I love you. So, so much.” He assures. “And I know I’ve been shit at showing that lately. And I’m so sorry. There is a reason, it’s just-” He has to stop to draw in a breath. It physically hurts his lungs and he realizes he has no idea when he stopped breathing. “Just know that, whatever happens next, with us, I will always, always love you.”

“And I you.” Louis whispers back, his eyes back on the floor and fringe sadly flopping over his forehead.

Well that’s one part over with then. Now it’s just the difficult bit left. Harry already regrets eating anything at all.

“I’ve had an ..obsession. Lately.” Harry starts. Louis looks at him from underneath his eyelashes. He looks both calculated and confused, Harry’s not really sure how he manages to do that. “It’s a bit embarrassing. And I get it if you think it’s really weird or, like, stupid or- I dunno.” He drops his gaze back to his plate, not sure if he can stomach seeing Louis’ immediate reaction.

He jolts when Louis’ toes poke at his ankle, and looks up at him to find a teeny tiny but soft smile. Louis nods for him to go on, so Harry does.

“I didn’t know how to tell you. Or like. I tried to ignore it a lot at first, but then I couldn’t, and then I got so, like, into it, and it became this secret fantasy and-” He draws a sharp breath, forcing back the frustrated tears that are threatening to fall.
“So, like, I want to be pregnant?”

The silence that follows his words aren’t as deafening as he thought it would be. It probably has to do with how hard and fast and loud his heart is beating. 

He waits another moment before he chances a look at Louis - the boy is fish-mouthing, looking completely at loss for words. He lets out a weird noise before he clamps his mouth shut and just.. blinks.

“I know it’s not gonna happen.” Harry clarifies, just in case Louis thinks he’s completely lost his mind. “And I know it makes no sense.” He adds. Louis doesn’t protest. “But I’ve just been like.. making up scenarios in my mind. Fantasizing about how it would be to be expecting, you know, like feeling the baby kick and move around and-” His right hand has gone to his belly without his permission, and he only registers it because Louis’ eyes follow the movement. He quickly drops it to his lap.

Louis moves the foot that was still touching Harry’s ankle away, bending it at the knee and resting his elbow on top while scratching at the back of his head.

“I-uh. Wasn’t really expecting that.” He finally says. Harry shrugs, angrily wiping a tear that’s somehow escaped. He scratches at his cheek after, as an attempt to hide it, but he’s pretty sure Louis noticed anyway. Well, if he’s looking at him, that is.
His own gaze is locked at the inseam of his jeans; there’s a stitch that has loosened and the thread is bugling out, he’s focusing so intently on it that he doesn’t register Louis moving.
He jumps as Louis sits down behind him, tentatively curling his arms around Harry’s waist and stroking his forearm. Harry breaks; making himself small as he curls against Louis chest and sobs.

God, he’s so pathetic. He tries to say as much, but all that comes out is a choked off noise, so Louis shushes him as he rests his chin on Harry’s shoulder and moves one hand to card it through his hair.

“It’s alright.” He offers quietly. Harry shakes his head; it’s not alright and he’s not the one who should be comforted right now.

“I’ve fucked everything up.” He somehow manages to get out eventually, though his words are wet and mumbled against Louis’ t-shirt - he’s not even sure they’re understandable at all. It’s not like he gets an answer anyway.

For a while, the only noise that fills their flat is Harry’s sniffing. Louis just patiently holds him, stroking his skin and hair and lets him calm down on his own. Eventually, he does.

“I’m not gonna pretend I understand; because I don’t.” Louis says finally, voice soft and without judgment. “But I do get that this has been difficult for you, and why you felt like you couldn’t talk to me.” Harry nods - as a reply, but also as a thank you - and Louis sighs softly. “I wish you had though, baby, you can always talk to me, even if you think it’s a weird thing, okay?”

Again, Harry nods. There’s still a lump lodged in his throat and he’s pretty sure if he tries to talk it’s just gonna be another weird, noisy mess, so he keeps quiet.

“It’s not what I expected- how I expected this conversation would go.” He points out again, Harry lets out a halfway hysteric snort. “But it’s heaps better, though. We can work through this, I promise.” Now that’s something that eases Harry’s mind severely. It’s like those words sucks the last bit of worry and hurt out of him, and all he’s left with is ..exhaustion, really. Fuck he’s so tired. Louis must be able to tell by the way his body slumps, because he lets out an amused huff and tightens his arms around Harry’s now limp body. “I think we need some food and some sleep.” He concludes, and Harry nods in agreement, croaking out a rough ‘yeah’ that hurts his throat.

They eat the cold beans and soggy omelet and too crisp bread slowly while Harry remains in Louis’ lap.
Harry’s head hurts so he forgoes the wine he never touched, instead drinking a tall glass of water and taking a couple of Advil’s when he’s carried the almost empty plates to the kitchen, while Louis blows out the candles, locks the door and turns off the lights.

Later, once they’ve made it into bed, Louis rustles the sheets as he turns to face Harry. “I love you.” He whispers. Harry all but throws himself across the bed to where his boy is, curling into his side for the first time in weeks and - yet again - cries himself to sleep.

--

When Harry wakes up the next morning it’s barely seven thirty. It’s no surprise he feels so awake though, having slept for over eleven hours will do that to you, so he figures there’s no point in trying to go back to sleep even though he doesn’t need to be up for another hour - at least.

Instead, he pecks Louis’ bicep and goes to take a shower.

It’s foggy outside, and the air smells heavy with rain when he opens the small window in the bathroom to let the steam out.
He turns the shower on, giving it time to heat up as he takes off his underwear and grabs what he needs.

He’s got water-physio today. They haven’t started with any patients yet, but they’re done with the CPR training, and have moved on to do exercises on each other, which is rather fun. Harry’s liking this year - with all the practice and actual therapy that comes with it - and now that the mess of his personal life is cleared a bit, he’s probably gonna enjoy it heaps more.

He’s gonna have to shower and moisturize once he get’s home as well, as the chlorine in the pool dries out his skin, so he only shampoos his hair once to make it look a bit more fresh. Most of all he just wanted to have a proper rinse and wash of his body, as he feels itchy after sleeping full of tears and snot.

He’s quite drained from yesterday, both in his body and mind, but he still feels better than he has in weeks. The conversation went better than he dared hoping for, and it feels like he’s finally out of the ditch he’s been in even though there are still loads to talk about.

But, they are talking again, and Louis promised they’d be alright. Right now that’s all he can ask for.

Harry smiles to himself as he steps out of the shower. The room is cold, so he closes the window quickly, deeming there’s been enough airing and - as he has every time he’s had a shower for the past few weeks - reminding himself that they need to talk to the landlord about the fan not working. Preferably before the temperature creeps any closer to zero.

Louis is still sleeping when he makes it back to the bedroom, but Harry can tell by his breathing pattern and movements that he’s not deep in it anymore. Still, he dresses as quietly as he can in the dark, before sneaking into the kitchen.

He quickly whips up a pancake batter, adding chocolate chips to it because he knows it’ll please Louis immensely, and then lets it settle as he washes the dishes from yesterday.

Just as he expected, Louis comes stumbling out once Harry has a few pancakes sizzling in the pan. He wraps himself behind Harry and breathes in deeply, letting out a content sigh. Harry leans his weight back on his boy as he flips the two pancakes over, before turning to kiss Louis good morning.

The butterflies that takes off in his belly makes it feels like they’re back in the honeymoon phase and he has to bite back his smile to not look like a loon. Thankfully, Louis’ expression is nothing but fond, and he leans in and kisses him one-two-three more times before he leaves for the bathroom.

The silence that surrounds them as they sit down to eat is not as charged as it has been lately. But it’s not comfortable either.

They need to talk, but Harry honestly doesn’t know where to start. So he doesn’t. Instead, he waits for Louis to ask - deeming that to be the easiest way for them both, really. But maybe mostly himself.

“How are you?” Louis finally asks as he swirls his banana-covered pancake in syrup.

“Good.” Harry replies - for once that’s the honest answer. “Better than I’ve been in a long time.”

Louis’ smile is small but genuine. “Me too.” He agrees, Harry jumps when something touches his feet, and they both let out a half-nervous laugh at it, before Louis rests his feet on top of Harry’s. “Um..” He continues, but he doesn’t follow it up with anything.

“Just. Ask whatever you want? I’ll answer honestly.” Louis nods, his shoulders relaxing slightly, but he draws it out as he gulps down some milk. Harry doesn’t blame him.

“Okay. So like, when did it start?” He asks finally. He’s looking at his food to give off the illusion of causality and privacy, and Harry appreciates it very, very much.

“Um, I’d say around the time we found out about your mum being pregnant? But, like, it all escaladed, so you probably didn’t notice back then.”

Louis nods. “Yeah, no, I didn’t. But it makes sense.” He stabs a piece of banana and swirls it in syrup for a while, before bringing it to his lips and then pulling it back without eating. “Is it a sexual thing?” He asks, shoving the dripping banana into his mouth as soon as the words are out.

“I- uh,” Harry hasn’t really given that any thougt. Though- “maybe the impregnation-part of it? Like I don’t really think of having sex with a belly or anything.” Louis nods thoughtfully, wiping syrup off his chin with his thumb.

“Have you ever? Thought of getting pregnant when I jizz, I mean?”

This might be the most awkward conversation Harry has ever had. “Once?” He’s pretty sure his cheeks are a bright red colour.

“Really?? When?”

“Um. After we finished school in the summer. Like, that day? We were celebrating.”

“Yeah.. We had a few good weeks after that, didn’t we?” Harry’s not sure if it’s an agreement or a question, but he nods along anyway. They did. “Are you, like.. now?” He looks down at Harry’s belly with raised eyebrows. Harry shakes his head.

“No. Not anymore.” He mumbles. It’s still somewhat of a sore topic to be honest, but he knows they need to go there, so he clears his throat and rights himself in the chair to seem more comfortable. Or confident. Or, like, something. “I was preg- was pretending to be pregnant through the summer. Like after that.”

“All the time? Constantly?” Louis asks. If he’s baffled he’s good at hiding it.

“Yeah. It’s why I pulled back a lot, cause it was weird to, um, pretend to carry your baby without being able to tell you.”

“Is that why you wouldn’t drink and stuff?”

“Yes.” Harry admits, a bit sheepishly. “I just. Tried to make it more real for myself, I guess.” Louis nods like he understands, but Harry can’t help but wonder if he really does.

“What happened?” He asks after a moments silence. It immediately makes Harry’s eyes sting - which is absolutely ridiculous - and he rather regrets eating the second batch of pancakes, as they now feel like cement at the bottom of his stomach.

“I-uh,” He swallows, rubbing his hands over his face. “miscarried.” He admits, hands still covering his face and fingers pressing into his closed eyes. He doesn’t want to see Louis’ reaction, instead he goes on. “I was feeling sorry for myself, with, you know, us and everything. And then I got sick - remember? - the twenty-four hour flu or whatever, and my mind just.. went with it.” He finally removes his hands when he feels Louis toes nudge his ankle. A quick look tells him Louis’ expression is sad, but not in a pitying way. Still, he drops his gaze to the syrupy mess on his plate.

They should probably soak those in water before it sets too much.

“It’s easy to do stupid things when you feel emotional.” Louis say softly, his voice void of judgment. It doesn’t make Harry want to cry any less.

“It was a boy.” Harry blurts, not realizing what he’s saying before the words are already out. He feels sort of mortified as he looks up at Louis, who schools his expression into something somewhat neutral.

“That’s- I bet he was lovely.” He eventually stutters out. They let the silence linger for a while after that.

“What do you want- like, from me?” Louis asks just as Harry is about to suggest they clean up. He settles back in his chair as Louis adds, “Like, do you want me to pretend along? All the time? Occasionally? Or ignore it, or?” He trails off with a shrug, but Harry can tell that the questions aren’t as casual as Louis tries to pose them.

“I don’t know. Maybe play along sometimes? Or- not if you’re really uncomfortable with it though. But like, if you want you could. I guess?”

“Just. Randomly? Or do you want to plan ahead or something?”

“It would be weird to plan it, wouldn’t it?” Louis makes a grimace and nods in agreement. “Maybe just, if you feel up for it? I’ll probably play along anyway. But only do it if you’re ready and won’t feel awkward.”

“But nothing long term?”

“No, I- it would just makes things complicated. At least right now.”

“Alright.”

They clean up after that, taking time to do the dishes and tidy up small clusters as well, as they flit around each other with an ease they haven’t had in ages.

Eventually, Harry grabs his duffel and announces that he has to go to his physio-training and Louis walks him to the door.

They kiss goodbye - nothing headed, just sweet and comforting - but when Louis pulls back he looks ..nervous almost, biting at his lower lip. “What?” Harry asks worriedly, moving his hand up and down Louis side.

“Just. It might take some time? Before I’m comfortable with like.. pretending? I just need to get used to the idea of it.”

“Of course.” Harry says in relief. “Take all the time you need, like, I’m just happy to have it all off of my shoulders.” Louis lets out a breath. “And to still have you.” Harry adds.

“And I you.” Louis replies, almost coquettishly as he peers up at him from underneath his floppy fringe. Harry simply can’t resist kissing him once more, even if it will make him miss his bus. They come by every ten or so minutes anyway.

--

Harry is a lot happier, and apparently people can tell that - at least a lot of friends and acquaintances comment on it over the next following weeks. It’s nice, because he is happier; he’s feeling pretty good these days actually. It’s also a bit of a blow to his acting skills, but meh - he’s had worse insults.

They’re slowly re-learning how to wind themselves back together, but despite the slow process every day feels like progress, and that’s something, isn’t it? They haven’t brought up the whole pregnancy-thing again - apart from a few random questions - but it’s not this big dark thing anymore, just another part of life. Harry hasn’t even felt the need to pretend again, which probably makes it easier for the both of them to process it all. He figures it’s partly due to the fact that he doesn’t feel so lonely anymore, so he doesn’t need to create a new life to get some company.

But that’s kind of a sad thought though.

They kiss now, several times a day. Mostly it’s just pecks or something soft and lingering but there have been a few incidents of snog-like kisses, though it doesn’t get heated and there’s no tongue involved. Harry never thought he could feel this happy when he hasn’t been intimate with his boyfriend for a month and a half.

But, life is good. It truly is.
Especially right now, as he’s lying on the couch in that blissful state between awake and snoozing, hunger sated, and listening to an episode of come dine with me. It’s a Friday, so he’s had classes since nine am, followed by his regular patient at physio; a nice man who has amputated his left leg knee down. Now he’s got work in a couple of hours - which is not that great - but at least he gets to have a proper relax first.

He must’ve dozed off again, because he wakes up when the volume of the telly is increased.

“Sorry.” Louis says, at least looking somewhat sheepish.

“’s fine.” Harry assures, stretching his legs out before leaning up to grab one of the three pieces of toast off Louis’ plate. Louis scowls at him, but Harry knows that he’ll only eat two anyway, so he’s not truly bothered. “Shouldn’t be sleeping anyway.” He adds and shoves practically half the toast in his mouth.
He’s not really hungry, but the apple/raspberry jam Louis has put on is particularly good, and besides, it’s not like white bread is very filling anyway.

As he pays attention to the show again, he realizes that he doesn’t actually recognize any of the faces even though it’s already halfway into the show. He must’ve had a proper sleep then. Louis seems pretty engrossed with it all, laughing at the right places and grimacing when a man forgoes normal hygiene, so Harry closes his eyes as he lays back again, not quite shaken out of his drowsiness.

It only lasts for a moment though, before Louis slaps his leg. “No more sleeping.” He chides. Harry huffs, but knows Louis is right - he’ll be twisting and turning for ages tonight, which means a bad night sleep for the both of them and a extra grumpy boyfriend tomorrow morning.

“I’m sleepy.’ he protests with a pout. He waits for Louis’ response, but when he doesn’t get one within a minute, he peeks one eye open, only to find that Louis is gulping down the rest of his tea.

“Only old folks sleep during the day.” Louis claims, which is a big fat lie, but Harry stays silent as Louis crawls over him. “Others find ways to occupy themselves.” Harry’s response is lost in a big yawn, but he grins once it’s out. Louis rolls his eyes and leans down to kiss him. It’s a pretty good outcome, all things considered.

Louis likes his tea bitter, and the taste clings to his tongue. Still, it’s one of the best kisses Harry has ever experienced as Louis licks tentatively into his mouth. It’s been a long time, and the feeling that washes over him is very similar to how he felt the very first time they kissed like this - a mix of excited and nervous that makes him warm all the way down to his toes.

It’s safe to say he’s not tired anymore.

He moves his hands to cover Louis’ bum, giving it a good squeeze and moaning all the way down in his throat when Louis grinds down.
The friction is delicious, and he gets hard in no time as they slowly rut against each other. It’s also all a bit breathtaking, which s why he needs to break the kiss for some air. Louis takes the opportunity to attack his neck, pressing his mouth to his skin and leaving wet, open mouthed kisses upwards till he reaches just below his jawline, where he decides to leave a proper mark

It’s one of Harry’s favourite things - lovebites - and he can’t help the gasp that escapes him when Louis sinks his teeth in. It’ll be bruised for days. Harry doesn’t mind at all.

As it is; all good things must come to an end, and this time it’s his alarm that ruins it, reminding him he should get ready for work. They groan in unison as Louis releases his skin and instead presses his forehead against Harry’s cheek as their movements halt.
Harry lets go of his handful to grab his stupid phone, turning the alarm off and Louis starts retracting from where he’s caging him in.

“I’ll skip the shower.” Harry decides as he flips them over - it’s a practiced move at this point, but the first few attempts had landed them both on the floor.

“Sure?” Louis asks, already moving his hips a bit. Harry nods as he leans in for another kiss, Louis meeting him with his own mouth open and pliant.

Thankfully the pause didn’t ruin the mood, and they quickly fall back into rhythm. “God.” Louis pants when Harry moves back a bit, gaining more leverage to rub against Louis’ thigh, and likewise making room for Louis to grind into the crease of his hip. “Missed this.”

Harry grunts in a agreement. He contemplates shimmying his pants down and getting their cocks out, but he’s so close already and a glance at the way Louis eyes are closed and his head thrown back assures him that he is right there with him. Instead, he thrusts harder, reveling in the way Louis’ fingers digs deeper into his hips. If he’s lucky, the marks will stay through the weekend. He wouldn’t even mind if they lasted till Monday, letting everyone at water-physio know he’s taken and cared for. His dick twitches at the mere thought.

The end comes quick and messy; Louis pushes upwards with a sweet, borderline musical moan, and Harry tips over the edge right after him. Their movements stills a moment later, and Harry can't help but let out some breathy giggles at it all. Fuck, did they really just come in their pants? It’s not exactly how he thought their first sexual interaction after the mess they’ve been through would go quite.

Louis must be thinking along the same lines, because he joins in on the giggles, burying his nose in Harry’s hair as they shake together.

“That was ridiculous.” He says a few seconds later, Harry nods into his neck, pressing a soft kiss to the warm skin there. “Also, I’ll let you clean up first. Since you’ve got work and all.”

Fuck, he actually forgot about that. “How very noble of you.” He says as he pushes himself up and checks the time. He’s got approximately ten minutes.

Once cleaned and changed, he hurries over to where Louis is still lying on the couch, looking nothing short of boneless and pleased. He kisses him softly, not letting Louis advance it like he tries to, and tells him he loves him before he shuffles into his shoes, grabs his jacket and runs for the bus, Louis’ reply echoing down the hall just before the door slams shut.

--

If Harry thought he was happy without a sexlife, he’s definitely happy with one. They fall back into it easily, and almost daily as well. Things are pretty much perfect.

“Yeah, like that.” Harry breathes, as Louis gives it to him spectacularly well.

“Yeah.” Louis agrees. His movements stills for a second - Harry’s tempted to look back and see if everything’s alright - before he picks up again. “Do you, um, want me to, uh, give you my baby?”

Harry thinks it’s supposed to be dirty talk. The effect may not be as Louis had hoped, as he bursts out laughing. He literally falls forward with the force of it.

Louis pulls out. Shit.

“Sorry.” Harry says as he turns over onto his back and tries to steady his reaction. “Just. Didn’t expect it.” Louis cheeks have taken on a maroon colour, though it’s probably at least halfway due to the activity they’ve been engaged in. “I really ‘preciate the effort though.”

Louis shrugs. His erection have gone down a bit, and so has Harry’s, but they’ll quickly fix that. “Might’ve come out a bit clumsily.” He admits sheepishly, which sets Harry off into another fit of giggles. At least Louis joins in this time.
Once they’ve calmed down a little, Harry pushes Louis to his back and gives his cock a few tugs to get him fully hard again.

“We’ll work on it.” He promises, before positioning himself and sinking down.

--

It’s a sunny and deceivingly cold Thursday morning in mid-October. Louis is in the shower whilst Harry brushes his teeth when Louis’ phone goes of - the vibration kicking in before the sound and effectively making Harry jump.
He curses around his toothbrush before he spits and slides to take the call, only a second later registering that it’s Lottie’s name and picture that’s filling up the screen. His belly does a few somersaults.

“Sorry, did I wake you?” She asks before Harry can even utter a ‘hello’. He pulls the phone away to put it on speaker. 

“No, Lou’s in the shower, I’m brushing my teeth. Well. Not at the moment, but-”

“Hello little sister!” Louis shouts from the shower, cutting Harry off. Probably for the best anyway.

“Mum and Dan is on their way to the hospital!” She replies hurriedly. There’s a thonk from the shower. Harry guesses Louis lost whatever bottle he was holding.

“She’s in labour?!” He shouts, before the shower curtain is drawn to the side and his head peeks out, hair white and full of bubbles.

“Yeah, started this morning. They went to the hospital within, like, a couple of hours, since it’s early and all.”

“Three weeks, right?” Harry asks.

“Two and a half. But, yeah, like. So. Yeah. Labour.”

“We’ll come up tomorrow. We both need to go to school first, but we’re done like one-ish, so we’ll catch the first bus after, alright?”

“Yeah.” Lottie sighs out, sounding relived. Harry totally gets it, Lottie is only seventeen and being responsible for three younger sisters for what could easily turn into more than a day would be stressful for most people. She’s not as used to it as Louis was at that age. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” Louis replies before he silently curses and disappears back into the shower. A glance on the clock makes Harry understand why - they really shouldn’t have gone for those blowjobs this morning, but it was worth it even though it means they’ll have to splurge on sandwiches to go for breakfast.

“Keep us both updated, okay? And give Jay our love!” Harry says as he shoves the toothbrush into his mouth again.

“I will!” Lottie assures, before ringing off without a proper goodbye, probably already calling the grandparents to let them in on the news.

— 

The following two days are pretty much a blur, even though they pass relatively slow. Lottie messages him to let them know that Jay is staying in the hospital, but the labour seems to be a while away yet, and that the other girls are very excited to have them come visit.

By the time he’s heading out of the physio-building on Friday, Louis is already waiting outside with the duffle they packed last night, and Lottie has just texted that Jay will most likely give birth that night, as her cervix is over two inches. Harry suppresses a shudder at that.

They have to wait an hour for their bus, and use the time to gorge on McDonalds and not talk about my mums vagina, please, as Louis so eloquently put it.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” Louis asks, kicking him lightly underneath the table. “With all the …stuff?”

Harry smiles at how bashful he looks. “I’m good.” He assures. “It’s the pregnancy I’m jealous of, not the delivery.” He’s only half-serious, and Louis must sense it cause he lets out a genuine but quiet laugh.

“Bet you’ll be pretty jealous when you see the babies as well. You’re such a softy when it comes to them.”

“Babies are lovely.” Harry agrees. There is no use denying something that is so blatantly true.

They sleep on the way up, and then have to walk for twenty minutes to get to Louis’ parents house - as none of the girls are old enough to drive yet. It’s cold and windy, but at least it’s not raining, so Harry’s not gonna complain. Well, not out loud anyway.

When they settle down for dinner - a simple spaghetti that Harry and Lottie made - Dan calls to let them know that the labour has officially started. It has them all chattering excitedly about weight and length and time and names, and Harry feels surprisingly okay with it all. Especially so when Louis pats his thigh as Daisy mentions that she can’t wait to have babies herself one day.

At a quarter past eight, all of their phones dings practically simultaneously. It’s a picture of two adorable, red-faced and squishy babies, followed by information regarding measurements, but no names.

Harry, Louis and Lottie coo at the picture, while the three other girls points out that they look weird.

“Well so did all of you when you were babies.” Louis replies, which makes the twins - twin girls? Old twins? Twolds? Twelders? - mouths drop in offense.

“They’ve just been squashed out of tight hole, off course they look weird.” Lottie supplies which prompts Phoebe to innocently ask how a birth really works, thus causing the subject to be dropped relatively quickly. Harry seizes the opportunity to figure out how they should address the two pairs of twins from now on, which surprisingly uproots a loud discussion.
He only grumbles slightly when no one else seem to like his brilliant combinations.

It is eventually settled - by the suggestion of one Fèlicitè Tomlinson - to separate them as the identicals and the fraternals since no one can argue the logic behind it.

 —

Dan and Jay returns from the hospital just in time for lunch the next day. The babies are sleeping in their car seats and when Jay tells them to leave them be until they wake up on their own, Harry’s pout definitely rivals that of the identicals.

The parents both look a bit pale and worn, which is understandable. They ensure them that the four of them slept okay - apparently babies usually always sleep well the first night, who knew? - but hospital beds aren’t the comfiest, and they still needed to wake up for nightly feeds.

The girl wakes up first, crying that distinctive newborn cry, so Jay picks her up and makes her calm down before turning to everyone who’s watching with excitement.

“Alright.” She says, supporting the little bundle in the crook of her elbow so they all can see. “This is Doris. And Doris, these are your brothers and sisters.” Harry’s belly swoops and he goes warm all over; being introduced as a brother makes him feel so much more important than he imagined. Jay only winks at him, a smile blooming across her face in tune with the blush that spreads over his own cheeks.

Harry has always considered himself a patient person but God is he struggling to sit still while Doris is passed around to her sisters. He’s literally sitting on his own hands. The novelty will wear off for them, he knows, as all these girls still live in the house and the new babies will only be new for a little while.

So, really, it is kinda unfair that he and Louis doesn’t get to hold her first, as they are the ones who will see her the least.

At least the boy could decide to wake up so they could speed up the process. Alas, he has his chin ducked into his own chest, eyes closed and is breathing heavily. Harry has checked at least five times since they moved into the living room.

Fizzy’s not that impressed it seems - or she’s good at hiding it - as she passes Doris over to Lottie after a minute or so. It feels like much longer though. The order they get to hold her in is from youngest to oldest, and Harry hopes he’s included even if he’s not a proper sibling. Because if he is, he’s up next.

Lottie smiles down at the tiny girl before she presses a kiss to the her forehead. “Nice to meet you little sis.” She says, her voice low, and then she rises off the couch and walks over to them. Harry sucks his bottom lip into his mouth to stop himself from pouting when she starts leaning over Louis. At least there’s only one person between him and the baby now.

“Harry’s younger than me.” Louis says, tilting his head towards him. Lottie turns, and Harry’s eyes stings as she carefully lays Doris in his lap.

Honestly, he thought he was emotionally prepared for this. It appears he is not.

The bundle of blankets are warm and soft as Harry holds her in both of his arms and stares down at her. He wishes one of them were free so he could touch.

Not for the first time, Harry wonders if Louis is secretly a mind reader, because he gently replaces her so she’s lying along the length of Harry’s thigh, and sits closer to cage her in there. Harry’s right arm immediately drops to create a secure border on that side as well, and it leaves his left hand empty and available. He touches.

Her skin is incredibly soft, despite all the small, pink bumps along it. The slope of her nose is tiny and perfectly curved, and her swollen cheeks are red-mussed and warm. She’s got the tiniest wisps of hair on her head, and there’s what looks to be  dried blood still caked in it, along with flakes of dried skin. She’s perfect.

“Hiiii.” Harry drawls out in a whisper. Her eyelashes flutter once, but her eyes remains closed. He can’t resist placing his palm over the entirety of her stomach to feel her breathe.

“I think Harry might try and steal her.” Lottie jokes, which makes the whole family laugh. Harry doesn’t even blush this time though, he’s too busy focusing on the new life peacefully resting in his lap. His hand vibrates slightly, and it’s followed by the noise of a wet fart.

“Better get that changed then,” Jay says moving to get up. “before she starts crying for more food.”

“I’ll get it.” Dan offers, placing a hand on Jay’s shoulder to stop her from moving, and gently lifting Doris off of Harry’s lap. It feels cold and wrongfully empty as the extra warmth disappear- and so does his heart, once he realizes that Louis didn’t get to hold her. He looks over at his boyfriend, apology ready on his tongue, but Louis looks nowhere near sad or disappointed, just smiles at him and leans in to give him a peck.

“The boy’s awake!” Phoebe says loudly, which causes said boy to make a whiney noise. Jay gets him up and out of the carseat and - just like she did with Doris, she hold him up and presents him to the family.

“Alright baby, here are all your siblings.” She says, turning him around so he can face the lot of them, though his eyes are barely opened into slits. “And guys, this is Ernest.” Harry spares a thought of gratitude towards the fact the that Louis’ name is as pretty as it is.

They switch up the order - oldest to youngest this time - so Louis gets him first. It’s obviously extra special for him, seeing as he’s waited a long time for a brother, and his smile is unbearably soft as he greets him for the first time. Harry takes advantage of the near proximity and grabs Ernest’s socked foot.

It’s astonishing how small a living, breathing human being can be.

He’s a tiny bit heavier than Doris; Harry remembers from the text they all got, but there’s no way for him to tell the difference as he holds him. He can see, however, that the boy has more wrinkles, and his nose might be slightly broader than his sister’s, but other than that they could easily be identical twins. Well, face-wise anyway, the genitals would tell a different story. Nevertheless: one is just as perfect as the other.

He doesn’t study him as much as he did Doris, simply because the identicals are basically jumping in their seats with their eagerness to hold him, so he gives Ernest’s head a sniff and a kiss and looks up, ready to give him away.
His hesitance to walk with this fragile being in his arms must show, because Louis gets up and takes him, disposing him in Lottie’s lap and offering to get some water for everyone.

Harry gets up to help.

“Are you in love with them yet?” Louis asks teasingly as he grabs a mug and starts filling it with water.

“Jealous?” Harry teases back, before adding “Don’t worry, you’ll always be my favorite Tomlinson.”

“And you mine. My favorite person, I mean.” He turns the tap off and grabs a tray to put the mug and the glasses Harry is currently retrieving from the cupboard on.

“And one day I’ll be your favorite Tomlinson too.” He replies, going for nonchalant but failing miserably when he sees the sunny smile that’s filling Louis’ face.

“Looking forward to it.”

--

With November comes ice cold rain and dark evenings, prepping for exams and stressed patients - and little time for each other in between it all. The highlight is daily baby-updates and the fact that next weekend Jay and Dan are leaving the fraternals with them for an entire day and evening to have some time to themselves.

Louis has promised Harry that the excitement he’s feeling now will be replaced with dread as he get’s up and personal with constant feeding, crying and nappy changing, only interrupted by sporadic naps, and Harry has promised Louis it won’t.
In fact, they’ve made a bet on it, and the loser is getting the winner a surprise.

Harry can’t wait to see what Louis has in store for him.

Today has been especially windy and rainy, and Harry is so tired and winter-depressed that he hasn’t even started dinner yet. Instead, he’s starfished on their bed, soaking up the warmth that the radiator has filled the room with, and contemplating calling Louis to ask him to bring some greasy takeaway back home.

It makes him feel like quite the shitty house-spouse, but he’s just not up for peeling and cutting veggies and the wait for the stock to boil.

He’s so lost in self-pity, he doesn’t realize Louis is back from his evening class until the bedroom door creaks open.

He really should’ve had dinner ready by now.

“Are you feeling alright?” Louis asks, concern edged in his features as he approaches the bed.

“Yeah,” Harry replies with a sigh. “just feeling tired today ‘s all. Dinner’s not ready. Or started. Sorry.”

“That’s alright.” Louis assures with a shrug. “We’ll order something in later.” Harry really does love his boyfriend quite a lot.

He’s also noticing that the way Louis moves seems rather cautious, or hesitant perhaps, now that he’s approaching. He carefully crawls up on the bed, caging Harry’s hips with his knees and resting his bum on Harry’s upper thigh. With slightly shaky hands, he lifts the hem of Harry’s sweater and pushes it up, leaving his stomach bare.

Biting his lip, he leans up for a kiss.

Harry’s a bit confused, but something tells him to be quiet and go with it, so that’s what he does, smiling when Louis whispers "Hi baby." and pursing his lips when Louis kisses him. Louis leans back and clears his throat. “And, hi baby.” He says, voice a bit rough as he leans down to kiss just above Harry’s navel. Harry’s breath hitches. 

Louis looks up at him from underneath his beanie-matted fringe, face growing more certain as Harry’s breath speeds up, and his eyes gets embarrassingly wet. His palms move to rest against his belly, stroking lightly. Harry’s arms, however, remains useless at his sides, his body almost paralyzed with ..excitement? nerves? Lord knows. Harry certainly doesn’t.

“Have you been treating your daddy well?” Louis asks softly, turning his hand to grace the back of his cold fingers against Harry’s overheated stomach. “Not giving him too much trouble, are you? He needs to be healthy and happy to take care of you, you know” Harry doesn’t answer because this conversation doesn’t really include him. Instead, he forces himself to relax as he swallows against the lump lodged in his throat and closes his eyes.

It’s easy to pretend that the fluttering in his lower belly is the baby moving to the sound of its papa’s voice.

“I can’t wait to meet you.” Louis continues. And, yeah, that’s all Harry can take. The dam is broken and there are fat tears rolling down his cheeks. He manages not to sniff though, so hopefully Louis doesn’t notice. Harry really wants him to continue. “Gonna be the most beautiful little girl or boy, aren’t you? No matter what.”

It strikes a nerve, it does. It’s one of the things that Harry’s had the hardest time coming to terms with - the fact that there will never be a baby that will have Harry’s lips and Louis’ nose, or Harry’s eyes and Louis’ chin - there’ll never be a baby that is a combination of the two of them, but it doesn’t really matter, does it? 

They’ll still be beautiful and they’ll still be perfect, and- Harry exhales.

“I already love you so much.” Louis confesses, and uses a bit more pressure as he drags his hands up Harry’s tummy, as to make sure the baby knows it’s being talked to.

Louis’ not talking to him, but Harry feels the need to reply anyway. “And we love you too.”