Archive of Our Own ^beta

The rain had started just after the last bell rang, that annoying kind of drizzle that didn’t come down hard enough to justify running, but clung to your skin and made your clothes stick in all the worst places. Louis didn’t mind, though. Not really. Not when Harry was walking beside him with his curls flattened by the damp and his fingers laced tight through Louis’s like he never planned to let go.

They didn’t talk much. Not yet. The path home from school was one they’d taken a hundred times, but today felt different somehow…quieter, softer, like the rain was smoothing out the rough edges of the world just for them.

Harry nudged him gently with his shoulder. “You’re gonna catch a cold if you keep letting your hair fall in your eyes like that.”

Louis rolled his eyes but tilted his head to the side so Harry could swipe a hand across his fringe. “And if I do, you’ll bring me soup and tuck me in, right?”

Harry gave him a dimpled grin, the kind that made Louis feel like the rain was worth it just to see it. “Only if you ask nicely.”

“I always ask nicely,” Louis said, smirking, even though they both knew he never did. He tugged Harry’s hand a little tighter, swung it between them once, and then let the quiet settle again.

They walked past Mrs. Green’s flower shop, its windows fogged up with the warmth inside and full of tulips and carnations and little white daisies. The display sign was written in thick pink chalk:

“Don’t forget your omegas this Mother’s Day! 💐”

Louis glanced at it, then at Harry, who was too busy adjusting the strap of his backpack to notice.

The thing about Harry was that he had this way of carrying himself like he didn’t realize people looked at him and saw future. Like he didn’t know how easily he fit into Louis’s plans without even trying. The kind of future with a warm house and a garden, maybe a little white fence. A baby with Harry’s eyes and Louis’s grin. That kind of thing.

Louis hadn’t said it out loud. Not yet. But he thought about it. More than he should, maybe.

Harry sniffled, his nose pink from the cold. “Ugh. My curls are going to be a disaster.”

“They’re already a disaster,” Louis teased. “Just a prettier one.”

Harry turned toward him with a soft glare, but his cheeks flushed a deeper red. “You’re so annoying.”

Louis grinned. “And yet.”

“And yet,” Harry echoed with a fond sigh.

They paused at the corner, waiting for the light to change. Louis’s trainers were soaked through. Harry’s were probably worse, being canvas. Louis nudged their feet together gently, just to feel the press of him.

“Do you—” he started, but the cars rushed past too loudly for the words to matter. He waited until they crossed and got to the quieter side street before trying again. “Do you wanna come to mine for a bit?”

Harry looked up at him, curls dripping into his eyes. “Won’t your mum be home?”

Louis shrugged. “She likes you. And Lottie made brownies yesterday.”

Harry bit his lip, hesitant. “I should go home. I’ve got reading for bio. But maybe for a little bit.”

Louis smiled and tugged on his hand again, faster now. “Come on, then.”

They ran the last block, the rain chasing them until they were breathless and laughing on Louis’s doorstep, soaked through and dripping onto the welcome mat. Louis reached around Harry to unlock the door, brushing close just to hear him giggle at the closeness.

Inside, the house was warm and smelled faintly of laundry and something sweet from the kitchen. Louis kicked off his shoes and helped Harry out of his coat, fingers lingering on his wrists for a moment too long. Just to feel. Just to be sure he was real.

Harry looked up at him with soft, sleepy eyes. “You always take care of me.”

Louis smiled, heart twisting. “Someone’s got to.”

He didn’t say because I want to or because you’re mine or because I think about a future where I do this every day. He didn’t say because I see you holding our baby and smiling at me like I gave you the world. He didn’t say any of it.

But the words lived in him like roots. Deep and tangled. Waiting.

The brownies were still in the tin on the counter, half-covered with a crumpled piece of foil like someone had started to tidy and given up halfway. Louis didn’t bother heating them — just grabbed two, poured a glass of milk and a can of Coke, then nudged Harry toward the stairs with his shoulder.

“Come on,” he said. “You look half-dead.”

Harry rolled his eyes but followed, his wet socks squelching against the floor as they climbed. “That’s romantic.”

“You’re lucky I’m a sucker for tragic omegas.”

“And you’re lucky I like feeding alphas with a savior complex.”

Louis grinned. “We’re perfect, really.”

His bedroom was a mess, as usual. Clothes on the floor, guitar picks in the sheets, an open notebook with half-finished lyrics and doodles of hearts in the margins. Harry toed off his socks and dropped onto the bed with a sigh like he’d just stepped into heaven.

Louis handed him the brownie. “Still warm.”

Harry took a bite and closed his eyes, making a soft, happy noise that made something twist behind Louis’s ribs.

They sat cross-legged on the bed at first, sharing bites of brownie and passing the glass of milk back and forth. Harry’s curls were starting to dry, curling tighter at the edges of his forehead, the tips of them brushing against his eyebrows when he laughed. There was a little bit of chocolate on the corner of his mouth.

Louis reached to wipe it away with his thumb. He didn’t mean to let his fingers linger, but Harry turned toward him, catching his hand and pressing a soft kiss to his palm like it was instinct.

It felt like the kind of quiet that people searched their whole lives for.

“You should change,” Louis said softly. “You’re still wet.”

Harry wrinkled his nose. “Can I borrow one of your shirts?”

“Obviously.”

Louis went to the dresser and grabbed one of his older ones — soft and oversized, faded from too many washes. He tossed it to Harry, who caught it against his chest with a shy smile before turning to change right there in the room.

Louis tried not to stare. He’d seen Harry’s bare shoulders before many times, actually but it still made his throat go dry. Harry moved like he didn’t realize how much he made Louis ache just by being.

Once changed, Harry crawled under the covers, tugging the duvet up to his chin with a little sigh. “You coming?”

That was an invitation Louis would never say no to.

He slipped in beside him, wrapping one arm around Harry’s waist, pulling him close. Harry nestled into him like he belonged there legs tangled, noses almost touching, his breath warm against Louis’s cheek.

“This is the best part of any day,” Harry murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

Louis hummed. “What is?”

“This,” Harry said. “Us. Here.”

Louis’s heart thudded too hard in his chest.

He didn’t answer right away. Just pressed a soft kiss to Harry’s forehead, then his cheek, then lower — the corner of his mouth, the tip of his chin, anywhere he could reach without pulling them apart.

Harry’s hands found Louis’s hips, thumbs brushing just beneath the hem of his shirt. They weren’t trying to get anywhere. Just touching. Like a secret.

They lay there for a while like that, curled up under the covers with the rain tapping gently at the windows. Louis’s fingers ran slow patterns up and down Harry’s back, feeling the warmth through the fabric. Every time Harry made a little noise a hum, a soft sigh Louis felt it in his chest, like a fire too beautiful to fear.

“Hey,” Harry whispered after a while. “Can I ask something?”

“Course.”

Harry looked up at him, green eyes wide. “Do you think about it?”

Louis blinked. “About what?”

Harry hesitated, biting his lip. “The future.”

Louis’s breath caught. He wasn’t sure what answer Harry wanted. But he gave him the only one that was true.

“All the time.”

Harry’s whole face softened.

“You?”

Harry nodded. “Yeah. But I don’t tell people. Feels like… if I say it, I’ll jinx it.”

Louis touched his cheek, brushing curls away. “I won’t let anything ruin it.”

“Not even us?” Harry asked quietly.

Louis didn’t hesitate. “Especially not us.”

And he meant it. Because in his future, there was always Harry. He saw it in flashes…mornings in their shared kitchen, Harry wearing his shirts, laughing as he danced with a baby on his hip. He saw lazy afternoons and burnt toast, midnight tears and sleepy cuddles. He saw all of it.

He didn’t say all of that out loud. Not yet. But he would.

Instead, he kissed Harry softly, slow and careful like he had all the time in the world. And maybe he did.

They fell asleep like that curled up close, fingers intertwined under the sheets, dreams laced with whispered futures and the smell of brownies still lingering in the air.

———

It started with Liam being annoying.

Well — not annoying, exactly. Just… Liam.

They were sitting in the school courtyard during lunch, eating soggy chips from the canteen and arguing about whether or not Niall could eat five hash browns in under a minute. (He could. He did. He nearly choked.) The rain from the day before had cleared, but the sky was still pale and heavy-looking, like it hadn’t quite made up its mind.

“Are you doing anything for your mum?” Liam asked between bites of his sandwich, the kind of question Louis would usually ignore.

“For what?” Louis muttered, distracted by a fry he was trying to rescue from his tray.

“Mother’s Day,” Liam said, like it was obvious. “It’s Sunday.”

“Oh, right.” Louis blinked. “Shit. I forgot.”

Niall snorted. “My mam’d kill me.”

“I already ordered flowers,” Liam said proudly. “And I’m making her breakfast. Mum loves when I do that.”

Louis rolled his eyes but grinned. “You’re such a golden boy.”

Liam shrugged. “It makes her happy. That’s the whole point.”

The conversation moved on something about football and how Niall had lost a shoe in last week’s match but Louis’s mind stayed back with the mention of flowers and breakfast in bed. He kept thinking about Harry’s face yesterday, the softness in his voice when he’d said this is the best part of any day.

He pictured Harry in their kitchen years from now, hair longer, shoulders broader, bouncing a baby on one hip while Louis burned toast and tried to make it look intentional.

Do you think about the future?

All the time.

Louis poked at his food. “Oi, Liam,” he said suddenly, cutting him off mid-story. “Do you think omegas like getting stuff for Mother’s Day?”

Liam blinked. “Um. I guess? If they’re, like, already parents—”

“But what if they’re not yet?” Louis pressed. “What if you’re, like… planning on it.”

Niall raised a brow. “Planning on what? Getting knocked?”

Louis flicked a chip at him. “Not me, idiot.”

Niall laughed. “So you’re saying someone’s gonna get knocked. Is this about Harry?”

Louis didn’t answer right away.

Instead, he looked across the courtyard, where Harry was sitting under the big oak tree with a book in his lap, curls bouncing as he laughed at something the girl beside him said. His cheeks were pink from the cold. He had his hand curled in the fabric of his school jumper, sleeves pulled over his palms like always.

Louis’s chest tightened.

“I just…” He swallowed. “He’s gonna be the mum of my kids. Eventually. I know it sounds mental, but I do. So like… maybe I should start showing him now. That I see it.”

Niall’s grin faltered for half a second. “That’s actually… kinda sweet, mate.”

Liam nodded slowly. “Yeah. I mean — if you’re sure about him, why not?”

Louis blinked. “You reckon?”

“You love him, don’t you?”

Louis stared down at his tray. “Yeah. I do.”

Niall picked up the hash brown remnants and chucked them at his face. “Then do it, Romeo. Write him a note. Get him flowers. Go full cheeseball.”

“Yeah?” Louis asked, half-laughing.

“Absolutely. Make it so sappy we all want to throw up.”

Louis bit back a smile.

For the rest of the day, the idea stuck in his head like a melody. Flowers. Little things Harry liked. A note, handwritten something just between them. Something that said I know we’re young, but I know it’s you.

By the time the final bell rang, Louis had a plan.

⸻

That night, after homework and dinner and making sure his siblings were asleep, Louis sat on his bedroom floor with his schoolbag open, a blank notecard in his lap and a pen poised between his fingers.

It was harder than he expected not knowing how to fit everything into just a few words. But when he stopped trying so hard, it came to him easy:

For the future mom of our future babies.

He stared at the words, heart thumping loud in his chest.

It was ridiculous. He knew that. They were sixteen. They hadn’t even been together a full year. But it felt real..more real than anything else in his life. Harry had this way of making the world feel softer. Safe. He made Louis want things. Big things. Forever things.

Carefully, Louis slid the note into an envelope and tucked it into the back of his drawer.

Tomorrow, he’d go back to Mrs. Green’s shop. He’d pick out Harry’s favorite flowers those soft purple ones with the little yellow centers. He’d find something sweet and maybe a little silly, like a stuffed bunny holding a heart. He’d wrap them in tissue paper and tie a ribbon.

Because Harry deserved to be celebrated. Not just someday.

Now.

———

“Right,” Louis said, pushing open the door to the little corner shop and squinting at the racks of pastel cards and flower buckets near the entrance. “No one be a knob, yeah? We’re here for something meaningful.”

Niall was already heading for the chocolate aisle. “Meaningful my arse. You said there’d be free samples.”

Liam shoved his shoulder. “This isn’t Costco, Niall.”

Louis rolled his eyes and tugged his hood back. It was raining again, that annoying drizzle that wasn’t really weather but still managed to get your socks wet. The shop smelled like potpourri and floor cleaner, and there was the faint hum of early 2000s pop music overhead.

He turned slowly in place, surveying the shelves.

Cards. Candles. Giant mugs that said World’s Best Mum in glittery fonts. Pink boxes of bath bombs. Rows and rows of stuffed animals clutching hearts. Cheap jewelry locked behind a smeared glass case.

“Alright,” Louis muttered. “Let’s get to work.”

“Operation: Harry’s Gonna Cry Like a Baby,” Niall said, grabbing a stuffed llama in sunglasses.

“No llamas,” Louis said without looking.

“But look at him!” Niall held it up like Simba.

“I said no.”

Liam, ever the practical one, was already flipping through the card rack. “Do you want funny, cute, or like… full weepy love confession?”

Louis hesitated. “Something real.”

Niall grabbed a glittery one with a pop-up flower pot inside. “This one says You’re bloomin’ perfect.”

“I swear to God,” Louis muttered, but he took it anyway, just to shut him up.

They spent twenty minutes debating the merits of different stuffed animals (“A bear is too classic.” “A penguin says ‘I’m quirky but sensitive.’”), comparing chocolates by how fancy the box looked (“If it has ribbon, it’s posh”), and testing candles by pretending to faint from their scents.

Louis kept looking over his shoulder like Harry might walk in and catch them, but he also felt kind of giddy. Like a little kid building a secret fort only this time, the fort was made of heart shaped trinkets and way too expensive floral arrangements.

“Okay,” Liam said, checking off his mental list. “Flowers. Card. Stuffed… something. Chocolates. You need one more thing.”

“Like what?” Louis asked.

Liam led them to the glass jewelry case near the back. “Something real. Something he can keep.”

Louis balked. “Mate. That’s, like—expensive.”

Niall snorted. “You spent twenty quid on bath bombs last Christmas because they ‘smelled like Harry’s skin.’ Don’t start pretending you’re frugal now.”

Louis flushed. “That was different.”

“Is it, though?” Liam grinned. “You’re literally planning a Mother’s Day gift for a sixteen-year-old boy because you’re already picturing him waddling around barefoot with your kids. If that’s not commitment—”

“Oi,” Louis said, but he didn’t argue.

He leaned forward, peering into the case.

It wasn’t fancy stuff no real gold, obviously but there were some decent bits. A delicate chain with a tiny sun charm. A braided leather bracelet with a silver plate that said forever. A plain silver ring too big for Harry’s hands.

His eyes landed on a thin chain necklace with a little star pendant. Simple. Bright. Warm.

Just like Harry.

“That one,” he said, pointing.

The woman behind the counter unlocked the case and carefully lifted it out, laying it on a bit of felt. “Gift wrapping?” she asked.

Louis nodded, heart hammering. “Yeah. Please.”

The boys were unusually quiet while she boxed it up. Niall was pretending to be deeply interested in a display of wind chimes. Liam just stood with his hands in his coat pockets, watching Louis carefully.

When they stepped back out into the street, rain slicking the pavement, Niall finally said, “You’re really gone, huh?”

Louis shrugged, trying for casual and failing miserably. “I just… I love him, you know?”

They both nodded.

“I’ve never really been scared of stuff like this before,” Louis said, fiddling with the edge of the tissue paper poking out of one of the gift bags. “But it’s like… I want to do everything right with him. I want him to know. That I see him. That I’m not going anywhere.”

Liam clapped him on the back. “He knows.”

“Yeah,” Niall added. “But he’s gonna really know after this.”

Louis smiled, lips curling soft.

They caught the bus back home, bags tucked between their feet, and the whole time Louis kept glancing out the window with a fluttery sort of ache in his chest. Excitement. Nerves. Love so big it didn’t quite fit inside his skin.

He couldn’t wait to see Harry’s face.

———

Louis’s room looked like a tornado made of tissue paper and ribbon had ripped through it.

There were gift bags propped against the skirting boards, little bundles of pastel colored cellophane strewn across the floor, and rolls of wrapping paper unravelled under the bed. One of Niall’s socks was taped shut inside a box by accident, and no one had the energy to fix it.

They were all sat cross legged on Louis’s carpet, backs against the bed, a tray of half eaten chips and a bottle of Coke between them. The air smelled like vinegar and the faint floral whiff of the bath bomb gift set Niall kept insisting on opening “just to sniff.”

“Right,” Liam said, flattening down the corners of a tiny envelope with far too much precision. “Card’s signed. Everything’s wrapped. All that’s left is figuring out how you’re gonna give it to him.”

Louis didn’t answer. He was curled up on his side, phone in hand, one knee bouncing restlessly as he grinned down at the screen.

“Is he texting Harry again?” Niall asked, dramatic as ever.

Liam leaned over and peeked. “Yep. That smile says it all. Full ‘I’d let you ruin my life’ energy.”

“Oi,” Louis muttered, but he was still smiling.

He was texting Harry about their shared math teacher, who had once again referred to sine and cosine as “romantic partners in a dance of numbers” during today’s lesson. Harry had sent back a string of crying emojis, followed by ur the only dance partner i care about.

Louis had reread that text at least four times already. His cheeks actually hurt from how hard he was smiling.

“You’ve got it bad, mate,” Liam said, nudging him with his knee.

Louis flopped onto his back with a dramatic groan. “I know. It’s horrible.”

Niall cackled. “No it’s not. You’re buzzing off it.”

“I really am,” Louis admitted, staring up at the ceiling like it held answers to the universe. “He makes me feel like my chest’s too small. Like I can’t fit it all in.”

Liam softened. “That’s how you know it’s real.”

There was a pause, filled with the rustle of gift wrap and the quiet fizz of Coke being poured.

Then Niall, never one to let the moment get too sappy without ruining it, said, “So when’s the wedding?”

Louis threw a crumpled bit of wrapping paper at him. “Shut up.”

Liam smirked. “You’re the one planning Mother’s Day gifts for your teenage boyfriend, mate. Don’t act all surprised when we start planning flower arrangements.”

“White lilies,” Niall said. “Very classy.”

“Harry would pick sunflowers,” Louis murmured without thinking.

They both paused. Then grinned.

“Jesus,” Niall said, flopping back onto Louis’s mattress like a man defeated. “He’s gone. He’s so gone.”

Louis laughed, letting the phone rest on his chest.

He felt warm. Light. Like the nerves and the excitement had curled into something soft tonight the kind of feeling that made you think everything might actually turn out okay. He had good friends. He had someone he loved. He had a plan.

“What if he cries?” he asked suddenly.

Liam leaned against the wall. “Then you’ll kiss his cheeks and say it’s because he’s the most loved omega in the world.”

“And if he laughs?”

“Then you’ll kiss him anyway and tell him he’s your future.”

Louis blinked hard, the emotion sharp and startling in his chest.

He reached over and picked up the little jewelry box small, white, tied with gold ribbon and turned it over in his fingers. He thought of Harry’s curls brushing his cheek when he slept. Of the way he always kissed Louis’s palm before handing it back. Of that faint lavender scent clinging to his skin. Of the future he couldn’t stop imagining.

He couldn’t wait to give him everything.

It was past midnight by the time the gifts were wrapped and hidden under Louis’s bed.

The chaos of earlier had mellowed into a cozy stillness the kind that only existed in the quiet hours of sleepovers. The three of them were sprawled across Louis’s bedroom floor, surrounded by crumbs from Lottie’s brownies and the soft rustle of gift wrap that hadn’t quite made it to the bin.

Liam was fiddling with the ribbon roll, trying to tie a bow around Niall’s wrist like it was a bracelet. Niall kept letting him, mostly because he was too full of brownie and fizzy drink to move.

Louis lay on his back, arms folded under his head, eyes on the ceiling.

“Do you think,” he said quietly, “it’s too early to think about bonding?”

Liam and Niall both paused.

Then, as one, they went, “Awwwwwwwwww.”

Louis groaned. “Shut up.”

“You’re adorable,” Niall said, turning to face him with wide, sparkly eyes. “Our little Louis wants to bond with his baby.”

“I mean it,” Louis muttered, cheeks pink. “I do. I think about it a lot.”

Liam nodded thoughtfully. “You love him. You want forever. Makes sense.”

“Yeah but—” Louis fidgeted with the hem of his hoodie, voice a bit smaller. “I want him to bite me back.”

That made them both stop.

Niall blinked. “Wait, like… Harry bite you?”

Louis nodded.

“Like—bond-mark you?”

Another nod.

Liam sat up a little straighter. “That’s… not really common, is it?”

Louis shrugged, trying to look casual and failing miserably. “I know. It’s usually just the alpha who does it. But… I dunno. I want him to feel like I’m his too. Not just the other way around.”

His voice trailed off at the end. There was a vulnerability there he hadn’t meant to let out, raw and wide open.

For a second, no one spoke.

Then Liam said gently, “That’s really beautiful, Lou.”

Niall bumped his shoulder with a grin. “You’re such a sap. A proper lovesick omega in disguise.”

“I’m an alpha,” Louis muttered, tugging the blanket higher over his face.

“Not with how you’re cuddling that throw pillow like it’s Harry’s hoodie,” Niall teased, reaching out to ruffle his fringe.

Louis shoved his hand away with a laugh but didn’t deny it.

He had stolen one of Harry’s hoodies last week, actually. It was folded under his pillow and still smelled faintly of his vanilla and lavender scent. He buried his face in it at least twice a day when no one was looking.

“I just…” Louis sighed. “He’s it for me. I don’t care if we’re young. I know it. I feel it.”

Liam smiled, kind and steady. “Then when the time’s right, you’ll bond. And if you want him to bite you too, I’m sure he’ll understand.”

Louis’s heart squeezed.

Sometimes it hit him all over again — how lucky he was to have friends who didn’t mock him for being soft, or for feeling deeply, or for wanting something that didn’t fit the usual mold.

He looked around the room at the gifts they’d picked together, the handwritten card nestled in its envelope, the tiny jewelry box tucked inside a velvet pouch. Everything was ready. All he had to do was give it.

“Thanks for helping me, you guys,” he said quietly.

Niall yawned and kicked at him under the blanket. “Course we helped. You’re pathetic without us.”

“Hopeless romantic disaster,” Liam added.

Louis grinned.

He wouldn’t have it any other way.

———

Louis woke up before the sun.

It wasn’t the alarm clock or the sound of birds or even Niall’s snoring that pulled him out of sleep it was the nerves. The jittery, fizzy kind that started in his belly and spilled outward, leaving his fingers twitchy and his throat dry.

Today was the day.

He lay still for a moment, staring at the ceiling, trying to breathe past the frantic beating of his heart. It felt like Christmas morning and a job interview and the moment before a first kiss all rolled into one.

“Get up, lover boy,” came Liam’s groggy voice from the floor. “We’ve got a future mother to impress.”

Louis rolled over and found both Liam and Niall sitting up in their sleeping bags, hair messy, eyes barely open.

“I feel like I’m gonna puke,” he muttered.

“That’s the spirit,” Niall said with a grin, rubbing his face. “Let’s make brownies.”

⸻

By seven-thirty, the Tomlinson kitchen was a battlefield.

Lottie and Liam were elbow deep in almond brownie batter, flour dusted across their cheeks like war paint. Niall was playing DJ with a questionable playlist called Sexy Romance Baking, and Louis was pacing between the front hallway and the kitchen table like a boy possessed.

“Stop pacing,” Liam said without looking up. “You’re gonna wear a hole in the tile.”

“I can’t help it,” Louis hissed, clutching his phone in both hands. “He’s gonna think it’s weird. He’s gonna laugh at me.”

“He won’t,” Lottie said firmly, cracking another egg. “You’re literally the best thing that’s ever happened to him, Lou. Just wait till he sees everything.”

Louis’s gaze swept over the setup again.

They’d done it in the living room soft cushions and throws covering the floor like a cozy little nest, the windows open just enough to let the spring breeze in. There were gifts tucked neatly in a woven basket, a handmade card standing proud in front. Next to it was the jewelry box, wrapped with golden ribbon and a single sunflower tucked into the bow.

The smell of almond and chocolate filled the house like something out of a dream.

Louis’s stomach was in knots.

“I think I’m gonna fake my own death instead,” he mumbled, flopping onto the sofa dramatically. “Tell Harry I was a myth all along.”

“You texted him yet?” Liam asked, scraping batter into a tray.

Louis groaned into a cushion. “No.”

“Well do it now. Before your courage runs away screaming.”

With trembling fingers, Louis pulled out his phone and opened his messages.

Louis: Can u come over? I need u to help me with something. It’s kind of important.

He hovered for a moment. Then hit send.

It was out there. No turning back.

“I sent it,” he said, curling tighter around the cushion.

Niall flopped next to him. “Good. Now sit there and shake like a leaf while we make your omega his dream breakfast.”

Lottie snorted. “Brownies aren’t breakfast.”

“They are today,” Liam said firmly. “We’re celebrating the future mom of his future babies.”

Louis buried his face in his hands. “I hate all of you.”

“You love us,” Niall corrected.

And, god help him, he really did.

The brownies had just come out of the oven, warm and golden, the scent curling around Louis like a lullaby and a heart attack all at once.

Niall was standing at the counter with a butter knife and a determined look on his face. “I’m cutting them into hearts,” he announced, already halfway through one slab. “It’s symbolic.”

“You’re eating half the hearts you cut,” Liam pointed out, peering over his shoulder.

“I’m doing quality control.”

Lottie swatted his hand as he reached for another edge. “You’re ruining the symmetry.”

“Harry’s not gonna care if the hearts are wonky,” Louis muttered, pacing again, now in tight anxious little loops near the front door. “He’s not gonna care about any of this. What if he thinks it’s too much? Or weird? Or stupid?”

“Lou,” Liam groaned, abandoning the mixing bowl to come gently grab his shoulders. “You literally said last week he cried watching that ad about the kitten that got adopted. He’s gonna melt. He’s going to love this.”

“Especially the brownies,” Niall said around a mouthful. “These things are lethal.”

Louis ran both hands down his face. “I’m not ready. I’m gonna combust. I’m sweating.”

“You’re glowing,” Lottie corrected from the sink, flashing him a smile. “Like a man in love.”

“Like a man about to fake his own kidnapping,” Louis grumbled.

Then his phone buzzed in his pocket.

He went still.

Everyone turned.

Lottie let out a tiny gasp. Liam grinned like a wolf. Niall whispered, “Dun dun duuuuun,” and dramatically pointed.

Louis fumbled the phone out of his hoodie and opened the message.

Harry: Be there in 10 🩷 what’s the emergency lol?

Louis squeaked.

Actually squeaked.

“Oh my god,” he hissed, waving the phone at them like it was ticking. “He’s coming. Ten minutes. TEN MINUTES.”

Niall, without pause, shoved a full heart shaped brownie into Louis’s mouth. “Eat something before you pass out.”

Louis chewed on instinct, adrenaline and sugar flooding his system.

“This is happening,” Liam said, grabbing the lighter to relight the small candle Louis had picked out for ambiance. “Okay, final checklist: gifts ready?”

“Under the table!” Lottie called.

“Card?”

“In the basket!”

“Jewelry?”

“Still not over the fact he bought his boyfriend a necklace,” Niall said dreamily. “We’ve lost him. He’s gone full omega.”

Louis flipped him off, heart pounding so hard it felt like a drum in his chest.

“You should sit,” Lottie said, gently pressing on his shoulder until he collapsed onto the couch. “Breathe. Let your body exist. Harry’s gonna walk in and see you panicking like a Victorian ghost.”

“He’s right,” Liam added, smoothing out the throw pillows and fluffing a blanket. “You don’t want to greet your mate foaming at the mouth.”

Louis shoved another brownie in his mouth just to stop from crying.

Niall crouched beside him, tapping his knee. “Hey. Look at me.”

Louis did.

“He’s gonna walk through that door and fall in love with you all over again,” Niall said, softer now. “Because you thought of him. Because you love him. Because you made something beautiful.”

Louis blinked at him. “That might’ve been the nicest thing you’ve ever said.”

“Don’t get used to it,” Niall said, already chewing another corner off a brownie heart.

Louis sat back, breathing a little easier, wrapped in the comfort of sugar, teasing, and his chaotic, wonderful friends.

Ten minutes.

Just ten minutes until everything he’d planned came to life.

And until then, he’d survive.

Maybe.

———

Harry tugged the sleeves of his cardigan over his hands as he walked, the early morning breeze brushing against his cheeks, still pink from his shower. His curls were damp, sticking softly to his forehead, and he hadn’t even bothered putting on shoes just fluffy socks and his old slide-ons.

The text had been vague.

“Can u come over? I need u to help me with something. It’s kind of important.”

Of course Harry said yes. He always said yes to Louis. He probably always would.

The streets were quiet, sunlight slanting lazily across the pavement, and Harry had to stop himself from smiling like a dork just thinking about him. Louis. His Louis. Chestnut hair in his eyes, blue blue eyes that made Harry forget how to speak, the way he laughed like he couldn’t contain it.

He bit the inside of his cheek.

It was weird, maybe, how much he loved him. How he could just… feel it. Not just with his heart, but somewhere deeper like a thread tying them together, soft and unseen, but tugging always in Louis’s direction.

And Louis loved him too. Harry knew that. He saw it in the way Louis looked at him when he thought Harry wasn’t paying attention. The way he always reached for Harry’s hand when they crossed the street. The way he said, “You smell like home.”

Harry’s phone buzzed in his pocket again, and he smiled before even checking it.

Louis: Front door’s open x

Harry’s smile turned into a grin.

He picked up his pace.

⸻

The first thing he noticed when he stepped into the Tomlinson house was the smell.

Chocolate. Almond. Vanilla. Like a bakery exploded inside a candle shop.

The second thing was how quiet it was. Which was suspicious.

He pushed the door open more and called out softly, “Lou?”

“Living room!” came Louis’s voice, too chipper.

Harry stepped out of his shoes and padded down the hallway.

Then stopped short.

The living room had been transformed.

Cushions and throws in warm colors layered the floor like a nest. The coffee table had been pushed aside to make room for a picnic style spread: a basket filled with wrapped gifts, a candle flickering gently beside it, and an actual sunflower sticking out of a bow. A plate of heart shaped brownies sat in the middle, still slightly steaming, and the entire space looked like a page out of a storybook.

In the middle of it all stood Louis, wide-eyed and flushed, clutching a folded note in one hand.

Harry blinked. “What… what is this?”

Louis looked like he was about to faint.

“I—um.” He cleared his throat and took a step closer. “This is for you.”

Harry’s eyes were saucers. “Me?”

“Yeah.” Louis smiled, nervous and wild. “Happy Mother’s Day, Curly.”

Harry’s lips parted. “But I’m not—”

“You will be.” Louis stepped into his space, voice quiet now, eyes locked on his. “Someday. I mean—if you want. I know it’s early. I know we’re young. But I just. I know. It’s you. It’s always been you. And I wanted to celebrate that.”

Harry opened his mouth, then closed it, heart fluttering so hard it was dizzying.

Louis held out the note. “Here. Read it.”

Hands trembling, Harry took it.

His eyes scanned the paper, breath catching when he reached the words:

“For the future mom of our future babies. Yours always, love you Lou.”

A little choked sound escaped him.

Louis panicked. “Is it too much? I can take it back—”

But Harry was already throwing his arms around him, burying his face in Louis’s shoulder with a tiny sniffle. “You sap.”

“I’m sorry if it’s—”

“I love it,” Harry whispered. “I love you.”

Louis’s arms tightened around his waist, nose in Harry’s curls. “You do?”

“Of course I do,” Harry said, pulling back just enough to kiss him, soft and slow and a little shaky. “You’re insane, and I love you.”

Louis beamed, blushing to the roots of his hair. “Wanna open your presents?”

Harry nodded, eyes shining.

“Okay,” Louis said, taking his hand and tugging him gently down into the soft nest. “But you have to try the brownies first. They’ve been through a lot.”

Harry laughed. “Were they in a war?”

“Niall ate half of them before Liam stabbed him with a fork.”

“That sounds about right.”

Harry took a bite, moaned, then immediately kissed Louis again. “These are illegal.”

“I’ll tell Lottie you said that.”

They lay curled together between pillows and half eaten brownies, gift wrap and sunshine all around them. And when Harry finally opened the tiny jewelry box to find the delicate silver necklace a small charm shaped like a star he bit his lip so hard he nearly cried.

“I wanted you to have something forever,” Louis murmured, fingers brushing his wrist. “Even before we bond. Just… something from me.”

Harry’s smile was wet, eyes shining. “You’re such a lovesick idiot.”

“Yeah,” Louis said, kissing his dimple. “And I’m all yours.”

It was quiet, the kind of quiet that only exists in the middle of a perfect day.

The gifts were opened. The brownies were eaten mostly. The candles had burned low, flickering lazily on the windowsill, and now the two of them were wrapped up together in Louis’s bed, their bodies tangled beneath a soft duvet that smelled like Louis’s laundry soap and something sweeter maybe vanilla, maybe the lingering scent of Harry’s shampoo clinging to Louis’s hoodie.

Harry lay on his side, one hand curled around the star shaped pendant resting against his collarbone. He kept touching it, letting his thumb glide over the edges, grounding himself.

Louis was pressed against his back, one arm draped over Harry’s waist, his thumb drawing little hearts along the curve of Harry’s belly. His breath was warm at the nape of Harry’s neck, a steady rhythm against his curls.

“You really meant it?” Harry asked softly, turning the pendant in his fingers. “What you wrote?”

Louis’s hand stilled for a second. Then he kissed the back of Harry’s shoulder. “Every word.”

Harry swallowed thickly. “Even the babies part?”

Louis chuckled, low and bashful. “Yeah, even that.”

Harry shifted to face him, nose brushing against Louis’s cheek as their legs tangled even closer. “You want me to be the mom of your babies?”

Louis nodded. “If you want that too. Someday.”

Harry’s eyes searched his face. “What if I do?”

Louis’s expression softened, all teasing melted away. He looked at Harry like he was the only thing in the world. “Then I’m the luckiest person alive.”

Harry couldn’t help it he laughed, a soft, delighted sound that made Louis smile so wide it crinkled his eyes. Harry pressed his forehead to Louis’s, his fingers trailing lazily through the messy fringe over his brows. “You’re such a sap.”

“I know.”

“But you’re mine.”

“Always.”

They lay there for a while, just breathing, Harry’s fingers tracing the line of Louis’s jaw, Louis’s hands stroking up and down Harry’s back in the same absent, comforting rhythm.

“I’ve never felt like this,” Harry whispered eventually. “Like… I could burst.”

Louis hummed, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. “Good kind of burst or bad kind?”

Harry giggled. “Good. So good. Like I’m full of too much love and it has nowhere to go.”

Louis kissed just under his jaw. “Give it to me, then.”

“I already do. Every day.”

They were quiet again after that.

Harry turned back onto his side and let Louis spoon around him, warm and steady, like he was made to fit there. He reached for Louis’s hand and tugged it under the hem of his shirt, placing it flat over the space just above his navel.

“Here,” Harry said softly. “If it ever happens. That’s where they’ll be.”

Louis didn’t speak. Just kissed the back of Harry’s neck and pulled him tighter.

They fell asleep like that. Wrapped up in each other, hearts a little too full, bodies a little too close, minds drifting toward a future they were just starting to dream into shape with a little house, a warm kitchen, a garden maybe, a baby or two with Louis’s blue eyes and Harry’s dimples.

And always, always, each other.

———

Ten years later

Louis adjusted the collar of his button-down and squinted at the mirror in Liam’s flat. “Do I look like someone who’s about to propose or someone who’s just realised his entire life has led to this one moment and might puke?”

“Both,” Niall said cheerfully from the couch, a half eaten packet of crisps balanced on his chest.

Liam chuckled from where he stood at the kitchen island, bent over a scrapbook of ideas they’d been building together for months. “That’s part of the charm, Lou. You’ve always been a little bit of a trainwreck when it comes to Harry.”

Louis rolled his eyes, but the fond smile gave him away. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“It’s adorable,” Niall said. “And terrifying.”

“Terrifyingly adorable,” Liam offered.

“Alright, alright, I get it,” Louis muttered, running a hand through his hair. He still wore it in that same messy fringe, though it was a little shorter now, a little neater. “But this is a big deal. This is the moment. I’ve been with him for nine years.”

“Ten next March,” Niall said, grinning.

Louis blinked. “Ten?”

“Yep.”

“Holy sh—” He sat down hard on the couch, right between Liam’s color coded post-it notes and a bottle of wine. “I really want to do this right.”

“You will,” Liam said. “You already are.”

The three of them were in Liam’s living room, surrounded by glitter pens, candle samples, Pinterest printouts, and swatches of fabric Harry might like for the ceremony Louis was already planning in his head.

It had started as a joke back when they were still in high school and Louis was skint and making dinner with canned beans and instant rice. He’d told Harry, “One day, when I’ve got enough to take you to the stars, I’ll get down on one knee.”

And Harry had smiled and kissed him and said, “You already give me the stars.”

But now Louis had the job. A proper one. With benefits and a salary and time off. He had savings. He had a little flat with Harry and a secondhand couch that squeaked when you sat on it wrong, and a spice rack Harry was unnecessarily proud of. They had a cat named Maple. And a drawer in their bedroom filled with nursery catalogs they hadn’t quite had the courage to open yet.

They were building it for their future. Quietly, surely, together.

“I was thinking…” Louis said slowly, fingers running over the edge of the pages, “maybe the park. The one near our high school where we used to sit after classes. Where he first told me he wanted to have kids with me one day.”

Niall made a soft, high pitched coo. “You’re such a sap.”

“You knew that when you signed up for this friendship,” Louis deadpanned.

Liam tilted his head. “You really think he’s ready for the next step? The bite?”

Louis’s smile was soft and certain. “He already has been. We both have. We’ve talked about it loads, just not… like this. Not with rings and sunsets and forever.”

“Bet he’s already picked out your wedding playlist,” Niall muttered, pulling another crisp from the bag.

“He has,” Louis said. “It’s colour-coded. He gave me a taste of it last month when we got wine drunk and slow danced in the kitchen.”

Liam grinned. “How many Ed Sheeran songs are on it?”

Louis didn’t even hesitate. “Four. Not his fault he’s got good taste.”

They all laughed, and then Louis leaned back against the couch cushions, letting the nervous excitement melt into something quieter, steadier.

“I think I’ve always known,” he said after a beat. “That he was the one.”

Niall threw a pillow at him. “We all knew, mate. You literally cried when he wore that ridiculous star necklace you gave him in Year Eleven.”

Louis caught the pillow and hugged it. “He still wears it.”

“I know,” Liam said. “He never takes it off.”

Louis’s chest felt full in the best way like he was on the edge of something he’d waited his whole life to touch.

And he was ready.

———

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Louis whispered, standing frozen in front of the pristine glass display case, staring down at an array of diamond bands that looked like they belonged in royal museums.

“Mate,” Niall said, voice low and reverent as he leaned in to peer at the rings, “I didn’t even wear shoes this expensive to my cousin’s wedding.”

“That’s because you wore Crocs to your cousin’s wedding,” Liam pointed out.

“They were formal Crocs!”

Louis ignored them, mostly because his hands were already sweating and he’d started imagining what Harry’s face would look like when he saw the ring. He’d been dreaming of this day for years ever since Harry fell asleep on his chest that first time and muttered, “I want to be yours. Forever.”

He reached into his coat pocket, where he’d carefully kept the key to everything: a tiny, white plastic bread clip with a Sharpie mark on it, bent into a perfect circle. Harry’s ring size. Or at least the best Louis could do without raising suspicion.

Liam blinked down at it. “Is that…?”

“Yes,” Louis said proudly. “I slipped it on his finger while we were watching Bake Off. He didn’t notice a thing.”

Niall snorted. “You measured your omega’s finger with a bread tag?”

Louis crossed his arms. “It worked, didn’t it?”

“Did it?” Liam asked. “That thing’s made of bendy plastic.”

“Yeah, well, so are those weird rubber bracelets Harry used to wear in Year Ten, and he loved those.”

Niall leaned against the glass, still munching on the free chocolates the store offered, and gestured at the rings. “So what are we thinking? Classic? Flashy? One that looks like it could summon a forest god?”

“I just want it to feel like him,” Louis muttered, eyes scanning through delicate gold bands and dainty platinum ones with little stones nestled like secrets.

He could picture Harry’s hands paint stained, elegant, soft. He knew how he used them to press against Louis’s cheeks when he was worried, or how he curled them into fists when overwhelmed, or how they shook just slightly when he was holding something too precious to drop. Louis wanted the ring to be something Harry could wear and feel comforted by. Like a promise, steady and solid and constant.

“Okay,” Liam said, snapping Louis out of it. “Let’s be strategic. He wears silver, right?”

“Mostly. But he has that gold necklace his mum gave him that he never takes off.”

Niall pointed at a ring. “That one’s got a stone that looks like Harry’s eyes.”

Louis looked. It did. an emerald set in brushed gold, warm and rich and glowing like something out of a fairytale. He leaned closer.

The shop assistant appeared beside them as if conjured. “Looking for something special, gentlemen?”

Louis held up the bread tag. “I brought the size.”

She blinked. “That’s… inventive.”

He beamed. “Thanks.”

They tried on a few options — Louis slipping rings on and off the tip of his pinky while the boys chimed in unhelpfully.

“That one looks like a mafia boss would wear it.”

“He’s an omega, Liam, not a mob wife.”

“Harry could be a mob wife.”

“That one’s cute. But is it forever cute or just like, temporary accessory cute?”

Louis was on his eighth ring when he paused, fingers brushing over one that wasn’t flashy or overly expensive just a silver band with a subtle vine engraving along the outside, small emeralds encrusted along it, almost invisible unless you tilted it toward the light.

He held it up, heart thudding.

“This,” he said softly.

Niall stopped mid bite of another sample chocolate. “That’s the one?”

Louis nodded. “It’s him. It’s… it’s everything. It’s warm and quiet and beautiful and a little weird. Like it grew out of the earth just for him.”

Liam grinned. “You’re gonna make me cry in a luxury ring store.”

“I already am crying,” Niall said, sniffling with half a mouthful of chocolate. “Stupid romantic git.”

Louis ran his thumb over the band, thinking about all the years that had led to this moment. About brownie crumbs in bed, the “future mom” note Harry still kept in his wallet, the necklace from high school he never took off. About every kiss, every fight, every dream they’d built with their fingers tangled tight.

“I want to write something inside,” Louis said.

The shop assistant perked up. “We offer engraving.”

Louis smiled.

“To my forever home.”

———

The wine was Niall’s idea. The planning? That was all Louis.

“Okay, hear me out,” he said for the fourth time that evening, holding up the same napkin he’d been sketching on for an hour. “We drive to the house just before sunset. I tell him we’re going to visit a client, but really, I’ll blindfold him—”

“You know what that sounds like?” Niall interrupted from where he was lying on Louis’s couch, his socked feet up on the armrest. “Murder. That sounds like murder.”

“Or kidnapping,” Liam offered, refilling all three glasses and handing Louis his with a smirk. “Do not start your proposal with a felony, mate.”

Louis groaned and dropped the napkin over his face. “You two are useless.”

“Uselessly in love with this entire situation,” Niall said, already tipsy and halfway through a brownie Lottie had dropped off earlier. “Seriously, I feel like we’re planning a royal wedding. You’ve got a car, a ring, and now you’ve bloody bought a house? You’re moving faster than my metabolism after Nandos.”

Louis pulled the napkin off and looked at them seriously. “It’s not fast. It’s been years. He’s… he’s it. Always has been. I was going to marry him when we were seventeen and I handed him that necklace and called him my ‘forever.’ This is just the paperwork finally catching up.”

Liam let out a soft whistle. “God, you’re so far gone.”

“Disgusting,” Niall muttered, rubbing at his eyes like he could stop himself from tearing up. “Tell us about the house again. The garden. Harry’s gonna love that bit.”

Louis leaned forward, fingers tracing the rim of his wine glass. “It’s a little out of town, just quiet enough. There’s a sunroom all glass on three sides. The realtor said people use it as a breakfast nook, but I already imagined Harry in there painting. His curls tied up, his playlist humming, windows open. It’s got this patch of land in the back that’s completely untouched. I thought maybe… we’d grow things. A garden. Maybe veggies. Herbs. Stuff for the kids one day.”

Liam’s eyes softened. “You already see him there, don’t you?”

“I see him everywhere,” Louis said, voice a bit unsteady. “He’s always been in my future. Even when I didn’t know how we’d get there.”

Niall wiped under his eyes with his sleeve. “This is the sappiest night of my life. I love it here.”

Louis grinned, cheeks pink. “And the car?”

“Oh God, here we go,” Liam laughed.

“She’s a beauty,” Louis said proudly. “Electric, smooth as hell, heated seats and the music system syncs with Harry’s phone. It’s not brand new or anything, but it’s safe. Comfortable. The kind of car you take kids to school in and drive to the beach on weekends.”

“You’re not just proposing,” Niall said, slurring a bit, “you’re proposing a lifetime. A whole story.”

“I am,” Louis said. “Because that’s what I want. I don’t want just a yes. I want the late-night tea and the early morning yawns and the grocery lists on the fridge and the way he folds laundry in a little dance when he thinks no one’s watching. I want the arguments and the making up and the crying over stupid animated movies. I want to come home to him.”

The room fell into a gentle hush. Only the quiet clink of Liam’s glass against the coffee table filled the space.

“You’re sure he’s ready?” Liam asked after a moment. “Not because I doubt it I just know you’re terrified.”

“I am,” Louis admitted. “But I know him. I know how he looks at me when I talk about our future. I know he keeps baby names in a note on his phone. I know he cries when we talk about home and he means me.”

Niall placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing. “Then let’s make this the most Harry style proposal in the history of romantic gestures.”

“Step one,” Liam said, picking up a notebook. “We brainstorm the perfect setting.”

Louis grinned, nerves momentarily forgotten as the wine settled warm in his chest and the night swirled with laughter and glittering plans.

Niall added, “Step two: I’m officiating the wedding. No one else. I’ve already got the speech started. It begins with: ‘From the moment Louis was a lovesick idiot—’”

“Step three,” Liam cut in, “we stop him before he ruins the entire moment.”

Louis laughed, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. “Thank you,” he said softly.

“For what?” Niall asked, frowning.

“For being here. For helping me make this real.”

Liam and Niall just grinned.

“Go get your boy, Tommo.”

———

The sky was pink when Louis woke up.

He didn’t mean to wake up early hadn’t even set an alarm but his body seemed to know. Today was the day. The day he’d ask Harry to marry him, the day he’d wrap their years of soft touches and whispered futures into one question.

And not just any day.

It was the anniversary of the first time he ever called Harry “the future mother of our babies.” Sixteen and half soaked from the rain, brownies in their bellies, pressed together under a duvet while the whole world softened into nothing. That was the day he’d looked at Harry and thought, Yeah. It’s you. It’s always going to be you.

So when this day circled back on the calendar each year, Louis made it count. Small things, usually flowers, pancakes, a handwritten note Harry always tucked into the bottom of his drawer like a secret but this year, it was everything.

Louis was going to propose.

He got dressed slowly, fingers a little shaky as he buttoned up a soft cream shirt that Harry liked on him, the one that made his eyes look bluer and his skin warm. He pulled on dark trousers and rolled the cuffs slightly, just enough to feel casual they’d be walking down to the beach later, and Harry liked barefoot proposals, apparently. Louis was willing to bet on it.

He paused at the mirror.

His hair was still a little messy, chestnut fringe flopping over his forehead the way Harry always carded his fingers through when they kissed. He ran a hand through it now, trying to make it behave and then giving up with a quiet laugh. It didn’t matter. Harry loved it wild.

The ring sat in its little velvet box on the dresser. Louis picked it up like it was glass, holding it to the light. Gold, smooth, with a subtle line carved around the band. Inside, the engraving read:

To my forever home.
The same words he’d once scribbled on a card for their anniversary with shaking hands.

He still remembered the look on Harry’s face when he read it, years ago. The wide eyed flush, the way he blinked fast like he wasn’t sure it was real.

Louis wanted to see that look again today. Only this time, he’d be holding his hand when it happened.

From downstairs, the soft smell of almond and sugar crept up. Lottie had come early, helped Liam bake Harry’s favorite brownies while Louis showered. Niall was probably already hovering around the tray like a brownie stealing vulture.

Louis grabbed the ring, tucked it carefully into his coat pocket, and made his way down.

“Oi!” Niall called the second he saw him. “We’ve got about five minutes before Harry shows, and if you don’t eat something, you’re gonna faint before you even ask the question.”

Louis rolled his eyes but took a bite of brownie. It was warm, gooey, and tasted like sixteen.

“Still can’t believe you chose today to propose,” Liam said, pouring him a cup of tea. “Anniversary of the first time you called him a mum. You’re really leaning in to the domestic fantasy, aren’t you?”

Louis smiled into his tea. “You have no idea.”

He couldn’t sit still.

Every few minutes, he’d glance at the clock, check his phone, adjust the blanket on the picnic basket Liam had packed with strawberries and soft cheese and Harry’s favorite lemonade. There was a little box of dried flowers lavender, daisies, baby’s breath tied together with twine. Harry liked wildflowers. Louis had listened.

They heard the gate click.

Niall shot up dramatically and whispered, “This is it. The moment he becomes Mrs. Tomlinson.”

Louis groaned and shoved him lightly, but his heart was racing.

He met Harry at the door, trying not to look like he was vibrating out of his skin.

And Harry Harry looked like summer. Loose white shirt, his curls brushed but still chaotic, green eyes shining as he stepped forward with that smile. That smile.

“Hi,” he said, pressing a kiss to Louis’s cheek. “You said you needed help moving a box?”

Louis blinked. “Right. Yeah. Come on, it’s out back.”

He took Harry’s hand and led him down the garden path behind the house their house until they reached the narrow trail to the beach. It was dusk now, the light soft and golden, sea air wrapping around them like a quiet promise.

Harry laughed when he saw the blanket set out in the sand, the little spread of food, and a tiny speaker playing their playlist in the background.

“This is the most suspicious box-moving mission I’ve ever seen.”

“Guilty,” Louis said, heart hammering.

He sat Harry down and handed him a brownie.

“You remember this day?”

Harry tilted his head. “Course I do. You gave me flowers and a note that made me cry like a sap.”

Louis smiled. “Do you remember what the note said?”

Harry blushed, eyes flicking down. “’For the future mom of our future babies.’”

Louis reached into his pocket.

Harry blinked, brows furrowing when he saw the ring box. “Wait—”

“I meant it,” Louis said, voice soft but sure. “I’ve meant it every day since. I want a life with you. All of it the quiet mornings, the burnt dinners, the beach walks with muddy dogs, the fights we’ll have and the kisses that’ll fix them. I want to start that life now.”

He opened the box.

“Harry Styles, will you marry me?”

Harry’s eyes welled instantly, hand flying to his mouth. For a long second, he didn’t move.

Then he launched himself into Louis’s arms, nodding against his neck, voice thick.

“Yes,” he whispered. “Yes, yes, yes.”

Louis pulled back just enough to slide the ring onto Harry’s shaking hand.

It glinted in the sunlight.

“Looks better than the bread clip,” Harry laughed through tears.

Louis kissed him, slow and deep, the ocean applauding in waves behind them.

The beach echoed with laughter and salt wind, golden light casting long shadows over the sand. Harry was still tucked against Louis’s side, blinking hard and stealing kisses like they were the only ones in the world. His hand twisted gently in Louis’s shirt, ring glittering every time the sun caught it.

“You planned all this?” Harry asked quietly, voice caught between awe and tears. “For today?”

“I planned this years ago,” Louis murmured against his temple. “It’s just the timing that finally caught up.”

Before Harry could respond, a sudden whoop pierced the quiet.

“ALRIGHT, YOU SAPPY IDIOTS!”

Louis turned, startled, just in time to see Niall sprinting barefoot down the beach, holding a bottle of champagne like a sword. Liam followed, more composed but smiling wide, and behind them, Zayn calm and cool, but his eyes crinkled at the corners with genuine happiness.

“NO WAY YOU THOUGHT WE’D LET YOU PROPOSE WITHOUT US HERE,” Niall yelled, skidding to a stop and immediately launching himself into Harry’s lap.

Louis blinked in disbelief. “How did you—”

“Gemma,” Liam said, shrugging. “She’s the only one you didn’t tell, which is exactly why we knew she had to be the key.”

“Where is she?” Harry asked, beaming through tears.

“Right here,” came Gemma’s voice from behind the dunes. She walked down with Lottie by her side, both holding paper bags and trays. “We brought the rest of the brownies, and Zayn brought the good wine.”

Harry was already standing, arms flung open as he took them both into a hug, laughing wetly.

Louis stood too, stunned and glowing from the inside out.

Liam clapped him on the back. “You did it, mate.”

Louis glanced at Harry his fiancé and nodded. “Yeah. I really did.”

They all spread out over the beach blanket, wine poured into mismatched glasses, brownies passed around like communion. Harry leaned back against Louis’s chest, warm and safe, his fingers linked with Louis’s over his belly.

Everyone was talking at once, Lottie making fun of Niall’s wrapping skills, Zayn and Liam gently debating how long Louis had been planning the proposal, and Gemma quietly watching them all like something was brewing behind her smile.

Louis only noticed her sidle closer when she sat on Harry’s other side and reached for his hand.

“You ready?” she asked softly.

Harry nodded. “Yeah. I want to tell him now.”

Louis blinked. “Tell me what?”

Gemma looked at Harry. “You want me to?”

Harry nodded again, grinning nervously.

Gemma turned back to Louis, eyes sparkling. “You remember that time in high school you said Harry would be the mom of your future babies, and I told you that was the most absurdly adorable thing I’d ever heard?”

Louis blinked. “Yeah?”

She squeezed his shoulder. “Well. Turns out, you were right.”

Louis froze.

Harry let out a soft breath and turned to face him fully, still holding his hand over his own stomach. “I found out a few days ago. I’ve been going crazy trying to keep it quiet.”

Louis’s mouth opened. Then closed.

Then opened again.

“You’re—?”

Harry nodded, eyes shining. “We’re pregnant.”

There were a lot of things Louis could have said, clever things, emotional things, nonsense things but in that moment, all he could do was pull Harry into his arms and bury his face in his neck.

“Oh my God,” he whispered. “You’re having our baby.”

Harry laughed, teary and breathless. “Guess we started that forever sooner than planned.”

Around them, a collective what the fuck? went up from the group followed by laughter, cheers, and the sound of Niall literally sobbing into a brownie.

“BRO,” Niall wailed. “You’re gonna be dads! Like. Actual. Literal. Dads.”

Zayn raised his glass. “To the new parents. And to Louis, who manifested this entire life from the second he brought brownies to school.”

Lottie grinned. “You lot are disgusting. I love it.”

Harry was still in Louis’s arms, and Louis couldn’t stop kissing him. His forehead. His cheeks. His nose. His soft mouth.

“You’re carrying our baby,” he whispered. “You’re gonna be the mother of my kids. Just like I always knew.”

Harry cupped his face gently. “And you’re gonna be the best dad.”

Louis wiped at his eyes and let out a breathless laugh. “Our baby’s gonna be so loved.”

And he meant it with every inch of his heart. With every beat he’d ever had for Harry, from the moment they walked home in the rain as teens to this night, barefoot in the sand, surrounded by their people, their baby already growing between them.

———

9 Months later

The morning light slanted through gauzy white curtains, spilling across soft wood floors and the edges of Harry’s canvas. It caught in his curls, now tied up lazily with a ribbon Louis had stolen from the bakery boxes weeks ago, and danced over the stretch of his rounded belly, glowing under the hem of one of Louis’s old T-shirts.

Harry was humming as he painted, barefoot and balanced on a low stool in the sunroom they’d turned into his studio slash nest. His brush swept slow arcs of pale yellow across a soft blue sky he said the piece was meant to hang above the crib, something the baby would look at as they fell asleep.

Louis leaned against the doorframe and just… watched.

Watched his bonded mate with his full, freckled cheeks pink from the morning warmth. Watched the sway of his body, the way he moved with that gentle, careful rhythm only omegas carrying life ever did. His mark Louis’s mark was a soft flush of scar tissue right beneath his neck, glowing faintly with alpha heat that responded when Louis got close. Louis’s own mark burned quietly in return, a soft ache of want and devotion that had never gone away, not from the first moment Harry bit him back.

“I want to be yours, too.”

He remembered those words. Remembered them whispered against his mouth one night under string lights and breathless kisses. Remembered how Harry had cried after, shaking, as they curled around each other, bonded and glowing and complete.

That was nearly a year ago now.

And today… they were only weeks away from meeting their baby.

“Are you going to stand there brooding like a Victorian poet,” Harry said suddenly, not even turning, “or come rub my back like a good mate?”

Louis smiled, heart aching in that soft, helpless way Harry always pulled from him. “I was admiring. Sue me.”

Harry finally turned, brush still in hand, and Louis crossed the room in three long strides to kiss him a soft press to his forehead, then his temple, then the top of his round bump.

“Good morning, baby bean,” he whispered against the soft cotton. “You let mummy sleep alright?”

Harry rolled his eyes but smiled wide. “He kicked like mad until three, then decided he was done and let me sleep. Rude.”

“Alpha genes. Stubborn already.”

“Don’t you dare blame this on me, Tomlinson,” Harry laughed, catching Louis’s wrist and bringing his knuckles to his mouth. “You’re the one who kept whispering about a family since we were literal children.”

Louis kissed him again, sweet and slow, tasting strawberry jam from breakfast and the honey warm air between them. “Yeah. And I’d do it again a thousand times.”

They settled on the cozy window bench, Harry sighing as he leaned back into Louis’s chest. The sun kissed their skin and the baby rolled gently beneath their joined hands. Outside, birds chirped, the garden bloomed, and the ocean shimmered just beyond the dunes.

This was it.

Not the dreaming. Not the building.

The having.

“Remember when I used to sneak notes into your backpack?” Louis murmured, nuzzling Harry’s curls. “That stupid little one with the ‘future mom of our babies’ line?”

Harry groaned fondly. “God, yes. I nearly cried in maths.”

“You did cry.”

“Shut up,” Harry laughed. “I loved it.”

Louis rested his chin on Harry’s shoulder and whispered, “We’re living it now.”

Harry turned to kiss him, quiet and deep. “I know. And I’ll never stop being grateful.”

Louis closed his eyes and let himself memorize this every breath, every brush of Harry’s fingers over his pulse, every heartbeat shared between their bond.

He had everything he wanted.

And in a few more weeks, he’d be holding proof of that love in his arms a baby who had Harry’s dimples and, if fate was kind, Louis’s messy hair.

They’d paint stars above a crib. Bake brownies in the kitchen where Lottie still left recipes stuck to the fridge. Tell their child about the rainy walk home from school, about the bracelets and the beach, and about how love could begin in a teenage crush and bloom into forever.

Harry’s voice was warm against his chest. “You still have the note?”

Louis grinned. “You kidding? I’ve got it framed in my sock drawer. Along with the plastic bread tag I used to measure your ring size.”

Harry snorted. “God, you’re a sap.”

“Your sap,” Louis whispered.

“Forever,” Harry answered.

And as the baby fluttered between them, their marks glowing soft and safe, Louis knew: that wasn’t just a promise.

It was their life.
———

Late summer light spills like honey across the garden, thick and golden, catching in the curls of a small boy with dimpled cheeks and a constellation of paint across his arms. His laugh bubbles through the breeze like birdsong, his feet bare, clumsy, tumbling through soft grass as he runs.

“Mama!” he calls, voice high and proud. “Look what I found!”

Harry turns from the flowerbed, dirt-smudged and glowing, one hand pressed absently to his growing belly, the other reaching out to catch the toddler as he barrels forward a wild armful of motion and joy.

Louis watches from the porch steps, knees drawn up, a glass of sun-warmed lemonade sweating beside him, his heart nothing but a quiet ache of fullness.

Their son, his son, is three years old and the living echo of every dream Louis ever whispered to the stars.

He has Harry’s eyes. Louis’s pout. A will of steel and the gentlest heart, always pressed against their bond, always humming with trust.

Harry scoops him up with a laugh, pressing kisses to the crown of his head, curls sticking to his cheek. “What’d you find, lovebug?”

“A rock shaped like a heart!”

“Oh, baby,” Harry coos, holding it up for Louis to see. “Look, Lou. He’s a romantic like you.”

Louis smiles around the lump in his throat. “Course he is. Grew under your heart, didn’t he?”

Harry’s eyes soften forest green in the light, rimmed with gold.

Their boy wiggles down and toddles toward Louis, holding out his treasure with both chubby hands. “For you, Papa.”

Louis takes it gently, cradling it like it’s priceless. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

He pulls the boy into his lap, feels the warm weight of him settle against his chest trust and sunshine, soft breath and small fingers curling into his shirt.

Across the garden, Harry lowers himself onto the swing Louis built for him when they first moved in. The breeze catches his hair, and he smiles at them, quiet and sure.

Louis has loved him since he was sixteen and reckless. Since paint under fingernails and notes in backpacks and Mother’s Day gifts wrapped in trembling hands. Since long walks in the rain and kisses behind closed doors. Since breathless promises and wild hope.

And now, watching Harry laugh with their child, carrying their second beneath his heart… Louis doesn’t need to wish anymore.

He’s living the wish.

Their bond hums between them strong and eternal, a golden thread woven through every second of every day. It’s in the way Harry still sighs when Louis brushes their marks together. It’s in their son’s giggle. It’s in the home they built with bare hands and brave hearts.

The garden rustles. Birds sing.

Louis presses a kiss to the top of his son’s head and whispers, “You were always meant to be ours.”

He looks at Harry, who’s watching him like he hung the stars, like Louis never stopped being the boy who gave him flowers and whispered, ‘For the future mom of our future babies.’

Louis closes his eyes, breath trembling with quiet joy.

The house behind them is filled with the scent of lavender and almond brownies. The sea is a whisper in the distance. Their boy is warm and safe in his arms.

And Harry — Harry is his.

Forever, just like he promised.