Archive of Our Own ^beta

The day Louis asks Harry what he wants for Christmas is the day Harry lets the word accidentally slip out. Accidentally, as in he definitely plans for the word to come out.

"Alright, babe. Time to tell me what you want this year," Louis says plopping himself on the couch next to Harry wearing nothing but an oversized sweater. Which Harry, is almost certain, is his, "And don't give me that 'but I already have the best gift of all, it's you' bullshit, tell me what you really want,"

Louis knows what Harry wants. He hasn't stopped talking about babies since Lou came in with her new child. His face lights up when he sees a mother with her child on the streets; He's been watching TLC specials non-stop.

Harry wants a baby, and Louis knows Harry well enough to know that when Harry wants something, he will get it.

Harry laughs though, nudging Louis a little on the side, "Okay, I've actually got a list," Harry says before pulling out a piece of paper from his pocket.

Harry dramatically clears his throat before starting the list, "This Christmas I want fuzzy socks, a baby, cute jumpers, a baby, blowjob coupons, a baby, a cook book, a baby, and lastly, I want a baby," Harry finishes the list, looking up at Louis.

"Lou, I want a baby."

Louis doesnt't even flinch. “I know,” Louis says before raising an eyebrow at Harry, the corner of his mouth quirking up, "And?"

Harry blinks, staring back at him as he scratches his elbow before letting his arms flop down to his sides. “Um. Can we have a baby?”

Louis stands from their couch, his jumper -Harry's jumper- falling down past his knees, "You know for a fact that we're, actually no, you're not ready to have a baby, H"

Harry actually flinches at that, feeling somewhat hurt, "Please, Lou? I'm more than ready to have a baby with you," Harry stands up grabbing Louis' hand to place it on his tummy. Louis' cheeks flush with a shade of pink. For someone who's against having a baby right now, he seems to feel warmth when thinking about Harry with a baby bump. His face glowing with that 'I'm a mommy' shine.

When Louis snaps out of his daze, he's realized he's been rubbing Harry's tummy. And Harry's caught him red-handed.

"No, we're not ready," Louis says, dropping his hand from Harry's stomach.

Harry slouches, whining petulantly, "But, Lou-"

Louis rolls his eyes, wishing Harry would just shut up and listen, because really, who in the world thinks Harry (of all people) is ready to have a baby?

“See, babe, that’s the thing. You can’t just whine and pout for this. This is- this is big, huge even, and you don't seem to get that,” Louis says walking towards the balcony of their flat.

Harry’s slumping position snaps into attentiveness and hurt, “Pardon me, there is not one person out there that takes babies more serious than me.”

Louis turns to face the tall figure mimicking his movements to the balcony and quirks up his eyebrow,

“Except everyone.”

Harry pouts, wrapping his arms around the lad, hooking his chin on Louis' shoulder,

"Lou," he starts slowly, knowing how to take charge of the conversation before Louis decides to end it before it even starts, "Just imagine, babe," Harry grabs Louis' waist, turning him around to meet his eyes, kissing him softly on the forehead and placing his hands on his tummy once again, "Just imagine my belly full of me and you, a baby, our baby,"

Louis gasps then, and Harry smirks (inwardly of course, never outwardly when Louis gets like this, when he turns into his pretentious, attitude filled self).

But Harry still smirks, looking down at Louis whose cheeks were flushed with a light shade of pink. Whose hand was rubbing Harry’s stomach where a baby –their baby- should be.

Louis realizes what he’s been doing when five minutes pass and he was still rubbing Harry’s stomach. He snaps his arms away from Harry, and kicking him in the shin.

“You’re so fucking-“Louis starts before punching Harry on the arm, "You're devious. I see your little plan, and I'm not dumb."

Harry rubs his arms and wants to say otherwise, but refrains. Contrary to popular belief, he’s not that stupid.

"But you liked the idea," Harry says trying to fight the smirk growing on his lips.

Louis rolls his eyes, "Shut up."

Harry grins lunging towards Louis to tickle his stomach, "C'mon, Lou, admit it,"

Louis yelps falling to the floor with Harry. Harry tickles Louis’ stomach and neck, feeling Louis wriggle uncomfortably under him, and Harry usually wins when it comes to tickle wars but Louis wasn’t having it.

Louis kicks Harry again, standing up and dusting off his clothing.

 "God, you're so annoying," He says pushing past Harry, making a very dramatic exit from the living room- their living room- and into their bedroom.

"Drama queen!" Harry yells out, still on the floor with the biggest smile on his face.

"Oh, but you want a baby with me!" Louis yells back, and it's true. Harry thought there was no point in denying it.

☀

Harry was determined on convincing Louis into having a baby with him (he's even made a name for it: Special Mission Baby; SMB for short).

So, SMB commenced; starting off with annoying the shit out of Louis.

So, the next morning Harry places sticky notes on everything he knew Louis uses every day: his favorite tea mug, his toothbrush, his blow dryer, even the roll of toilet paper.

Each stick note had a little saying on it:

"I want a baby, yes I do. I want a baby, how about you?"

"Lou Boo, I want a baby!"

“Okay, I’m never calling you Lou Boo ever again. But seriously, have a baby with me.”

"How do you feel about Noah for a boy, and Lily for a girl?"

  "No! Fantasia for a girl, and Demetri for a boy!"

"I'm going diaper shopping today, come with?"

Harry is standing in the kitchen when Louis walks in with a wad of sticky notes bunched up in his hand.

"And what's this?" Louis asks holding up his hand to show Harry who, for one, can barely hide the smirk on his face.

"They're notes," Harry smiles, walking towards Louis and wrapping his arms around his waist, "Let's have a baby,"

Louis unwraps Harry's arms from himself, "We're not having a baby, Harry. Just wait a few more years, and maybe then I'll think about it," Louis walked past Harry, climbing on top of the kitchen counter, reaching up to the last cabinet to get his mug (He could've easily of asked Harry for help).

Harry drops his arms to his side, puffing out air like a child about to throw a tantrum, "But Lou, I want a baby now," Harry whined. Harry did this a lot, actually; he'd act like a child whose mother said no to a toy he wanted at the grocery store and yells 'But mum! I want it!’

"Love, when will you understand that this is a big de-"

"When you have a baby with me,"

Louis rolls his eyes, "Don't interrupt Harry, It's not something you can just throw a hissy fit, and eventually get what you want. We're talking about a baby. A living, breathing, human baby,"

Louis pauses for a moment, looking up at Harry who is staring down at him with wide eyes. Louis take a deep breath,

"When will you understand that we are in a world famous boy band who, may I add, is going back on tour in less than a month? We're not ready. You're not ready,"

When Louis finishes, he looks up at Harry half expecting him to have tears in his eyes and half expecting him to continue his begging and whining. But no, oh no. Contrary to Louis' expectations, Harry just smirks.

Harry chuckles to himself, "Oh, we'll see, Louis. We'll see."

Louis scrunches his eyebrows down, watching Harry take the tea mug from his hands to make the tea himself, “And what is that supposed to mean?” Louis asks, arching his eyebrows and inspecting Harry’s every move.

Harry moves slowly through the kitchen. From filling the tea mug with boiling water to grabbing a tea bag from the cupboard. But Harry doesn’t answer Louis’ question though. He just smirks again, making his left dimple pop out.

☀

Phase two of SMB was to get Louis unbelievably drunk.

Unbelievably Piss Drunk Louis will result with the following:

• Become so lust-drunk, Louis won't be able to keep his hands off Harry.
• Forget about each and every thought of Harry wanting to get knock up.
• What's a condom?
• Condom who?

So when the boys decide to invite all of London's existence into Louis and Harry's apartment for a little (huge) party, Harry does everything he can to get Louis completely shitfaced. And by everything he meant making Louis take multiple shots of pure vodka in a row, while Harry downs shots of water or throws the shot over his shoulder.

"Holy fucking shit, Harry," Louis stumbles over towards Harry with a plant cradled in his arms, "Look, I made a new friend. His name is Ernie, say hi to Harry, Ernie," Louis baby talks the plant, petting the fake fern with the hand that wasn't holding a bottle of tequila. And really, If Harry wasn't sober right now, he'd be talking to Ernie the Plant too.

Louis places Ernie down on the coffee table, before placing himself in between Harry's legs. His hands trail up Harry’s thighs, his nails digging deep into the denim of his jeans. Louis can feel Harry tense up when his hand brushes lightly over Harry’s cock.

"Can you guess how much I want you right now, Harry?" Louis slurs into Harry's ear, his hands wrapping around the nape of his neck, and pulling the small strands of hair that curled around Harry's ear.

Harry’s breath hitches when he felt Louis warm lips around his neck, sucking, nibbling, teasing. Louis would blow cold air on the fresh hickey, making chills run up Harry’s spine.

"H-how, fuck, how much, Lou?" Harry asks trying to control himself since they are, in fact, in the middle of the living room surrounded by their close friends.

Louis smirks grinding his hips down. Harry’s cock twitches at the sensation; feeling Louis’ cock grind down hard on him made him want to scream, made him want to open his legs and let Louis have him right then and there.

"I want to wreck you Harry. You want me to wreck you, love? Huh? You want daddy's cock to spread you wide open?" Louis whispered seductively. With every nibble at Harry's neck, Louis would blow at the wet spot, making chills run up Harry's spine.

"Fuck, Louis, fuck me. Now. Need you, now,"

Harry gripped onto Louis’ hips, nails digging deep into the exposed skin from his shirt being slowly lifted up. Harry stumbles to their bedroom. With a raging boner, and a Louis sucking vigorously at his neck with his own raging boner piercing into his stomach, it was hard to concentrate.

Louis unwraps his legs from Harry’s waist and before Harry even knew it, he was being slammed against their bed. Louis tearing off Harry's shirt, Louis’ shirt following up. Louis kisses down Harry's torso, making sure to stop at his nipples. Taking one between his teeth, Louis bites down at the sensitive nub. Harry winces, sucking in a sharp intake of air, his hips bucking up; his cock fattening with the friction in his pants.

"You like that, princess?" Louis asks, flicking his tongue over Harry's nipples, and Harry swears he can see the galaxy form in his eyes; the arousal of pleasure fluttering throughout his body. Louis continues to kiss down Harry's body, Harry's pants becoming incredibly too tight for his growing, swollen cock.

"Fuck, Lou, let me fuck you mouth," Harry took a deep breath when Louis sucks and bites down at the curve of Harry's hip,

"M'want to fuck your mouth,"

Harry didn't need to say anymore. Louis unbuttons Harry’s pants, shimming them down past his milky white thighs. Louis grabs ahold of Harry's cock, it twitching in his hand when he squeezes his cock gently. Louis wraps his lips around Harry's head sucking slowly, at first, then faster, and harder before flicking his tongue over the sensitive slit of his cock. Without a warning Louis took Harry in, gagging slightly at Harry's size.

Harry lets out what sounded like a cry and a moan (Louis couldn't really tell.) when he felt Louis' throat tighten around his cock, his hips bucking up, fucking the back of Louis' throat.

Louis let Harry's cock slip out of his mouth making a 'pop' sound. Harry whines from the loss of contact.

"You ready to take all of me, love?" Louis asks sucking on the side of Harry's shaft,

"You won't be able to sit for weeks," Louis smirks up at Harry who now has his eyes squeezed shut.

"Pl-please, Lou, need you to fucking- fuck me, now." Harry cries out with tears welling up in his eyes.

Louis leans over Harry to the nightstand, grabbing the bottle of lube. He squeezes some onto his fingers before massaging his swollen and neglected cock.

Without a warning, Louis is lined up against Harry's pink hole, slamming into him completely.

Harry lets out a choked sob, his moan coming out broken and uneven. Louis thrusts in deeper, his cock twitching inside of Harry. And he'd be lying if he said he didn't love the sound of Harry sounding completely broken under him. His body shuddering because of the way Louis makes him feel. The tears rolling down his face because the pleasure is just unbearable. He'd be a bullshit liar if Louis said he didn't love every bit of that.

Louis flips Harry around so his pretty little bum is in the air, ready to be fucked some more. Louis lines himself up again, and slams into Harry.

Louis smirks knowing he's at the perfect angle. With each thrust, the tip of Louis' cock hit Harry's prostate, and Louis knows that because the sound of Harry's staggered breath, and broken sobs was like music to his ears.

Louis grips onto Harry's hips for dear life, his nails digging into his porcelain skin. Harry, too, dug his fingers into the bed sheets, his sobs barely audible from biting the pillow in front of him.

Fuck, Harry's cock is so neglected, is so numb, and is so untouched. But he doesn't need to be touched. All he wants-no, all he needs is Louis; all of Louis.

All he needs is all of Louis slamming into his body, making him stutter, and suck on his breath. That's all Harry needs.

Louis is thrusting into Harry mercilessly now. All that can be heard is the slapping of skin, Louis' grunts, and Harry's moans. And within seconds Louis' cumming inside Harry's abused hole. Harry cums shortly after, his cock falling limp againsts the sheets he's, his cum spewing out and staining the sheets.

Louis pulls himself out, flipping Harry over so he’s facing him.

“Wow, you’re such a submissive little bitch,” Louis smirks, brushing the tears off Harry’s face with his thumb.

“Am not!” Harry protests breathlessly.

Louis cackles at that, “Yeah, tell that to the tears on your face.”

☀

After weeks of attempting to sneak around Louis to buy a home pregnancy test, Harry's finally sat at the edge of the toilet seat staring down at the plastic stick.

It hasn't even been five minutes, but Harry can't wait. He doesn't know if he peed on it correctly, or if these home pregnancy tests even worked on guys because, well, guys aren't even supposed to get pregnant. But he wants to be pregnant and- fuck can this test hurry up?

Six more minutes

Harry taps his finger on the edge of the sink, staring down at the pregnancy stick. He’s been pacing back and forth in the bathroom.

At this point Harry is so close to snapping the stick in half and going to the doctor if it meant getting an answer quicker.

All he wants to see is those two little lines show up on the dingy plastic stick.

But when he was just about to snap the stick in half, he sees it: two faded, pink lines.

☀

Harry's pregnant, and Louis is oblivious. Even when Harry woke up one morning, throwing up everything that existed in his stomach. Though, Louis didn't give much thought to it. He thought Harry caught the flu.

Now, they're two months and twelve days into their tour, and Harry thinks he’s able to keep his pregnancy on the down-low; that is until one night after a show in Australia where Harry takes one whiff of the freshly baked cupcakes, and he's throwing up in seconds.

And Harry could've gotten away with his fit of vomiting by saying it was the typical 'adrenalin rush'  sickness, or maybe dehydration, but Niall comes rushing towards Harry who is leaning over the trash can, gushing his insides out.

When Harry stands upright, using Niall's shoulder for support, that's when Niall dropped the bomb on him, "I know you're pregnant, mate,"

"What?" he asks, a little breathless.

Niall flinches at Harry's repulsive breath, pinches his nostrils together, "I said, I know you're pregnant,"

"I-I know what you said, but. How?"

"No offense or anything, but like…you look it and shit, like, you're glowing," Niall waves his hands in front of Harry's face as if to exaggerate the fact that he's glowing, "And I know Louis doesn't know,"

"Fuck me” Harry groans, realizing he still needs to tell Louis.

"Fuck you indeed, mate," Niall laughs thinking he's funny (he's not.)

Niall guides Harry into his dressing room. He silently thanks God that Louis hasn't come off stage yet, probably still fucking around with Zayn. Though, he knows when Louis does get off stage, he's going straight to Harry's dressing room.

"So, how long?" Niall asks, pointing down at Harry's stomach.

Harry looks down himself, smiling and holding his stomach, "I don't even know, I've lost track,"

Niall scrunches his nose up, placing his hand on Harry's stomach, "I didn't even know guys can get pregnant, like, thank fuck I'm straight,"

Harry snorts, "Fuck you, mate,"

"Seriously though, how the fuck do guys get pregnant? I mean, do you push the thing out of your arseho-"

"Niall," Harry warns, cutting Niall short of his sentence.

"Like do you have a secret vagina hidden in those tight pants of yours, Harold?" Niall asks, still holding Harry's stomach.

"Holy shit, Niall," Harry was close to drop kicking Niall in the throat if he didn't shut up.

But before Harry could shut him up, something else did.

Louis walks into Harry's dressing room, still laughing at Zayn who ripped his pants walking down the stairs of the arena.

Louis stops when he sees Niall holding Harry's stomach,

"And what's this?" Louis gestures his hands toward Niall and Harry.

Niall snaps his hands quickly away from Harry’s stomach, "I um, you know um- Is that Liam calling me? Coming Liam!"

Harry pinches the bridge of his nose, and shakes his head because seriously, Harry's never seen Niall save himself from a deadly conversation so smoothly.

"So, um..?" Louis questions, and he could've sworn Harry looks like a ghost before him. His eyes wide with worry, and skin getting paler by the second.

"I-um, Niall was just checking, you see I had a stomach ache, and like," Harry stutters before taking a deep breath, "I'm pregnant,"

Harry's eyes fill with tears because Louis hasn’t said anything yet; he hasn’t made any movement or even looked at Harry yet.

Harry realizes how shitty he’s been. He thinks maybe Louis will leave him for being such a shitty husband to him; for getting himself pregnant when Harry knew Louis didn’t want a baby now.

Harry was about to say something after several minutes of silence (well, actually the only thing that could be heard were Harry's silent cries of regret.) but Louis speaks before he does.

"Oh baby," Louis coos, wrapping his arms around Harry crying body.

“C’mon now, love. You’re alright,” Louis coos, wrapping Harry into his arms and feeling Harry curl up into his chest,

“You’re alright, babe, you’re good. We’re good,” Louis whispers softly into Harry’s ear.

Harry hiccups, rubbing his running nose with the back of his hand, "Fuck, Lou," Harry continues his sobbing with hiccups and sniffles throughout it all.

Louis laughs though, watching his love panic over something he was less than bothered by. Louis grabsHarry's hands, intertwining their fingers together, "I thought you wanted this, love?" Louis asks pushing Harry’s head back towards his chest, letting his tears stain through his white shirt.

"Of course I want this; I want this more than anything but, I just-“Harry sighs, “I thought you didn't want this?" Harry asks, his voice muffled by Louis' jacket which smells like daisies and fabric softener (Harry's favorite.)

"Oh no, sweetie of course I want this," Louis comforts Harry, rubbing small circles into his back,

"Maybe I didn't want this during this specific time period of our lives, but, of course I want this. It's you, Harry. You filled with me; us, our baby.

Harry laughs then, his snot shooting out from his nose and onto Louis’ jacket, "Our baby,"

“Your snot is absolutely disgusting but, yes, our baby,”

And then they're both smiling and crying and laying uncomfortably (yet comfortably) on the couch of Harry's dressing room. Louis rubs circles into Harry's hip, then slowly moving his hand up to lay on top of Harry's stomach. And Harry can't help but to feel so utterly fond of Louis. He thought Louis didn't want this, he thought he was a terrible person for basically manipulating Louis into having a baby with him. But no, Louis wants this. This is really happening.

They're having a baby.

☀

After that night, Louis and Harry both know Harry's pregnant. And Harry couldn't wait to share his miracle with the world. He wants to show off his belly by wearing extra tight shirts. He wants go baby shopping and buy little booties and pacifiers. He wants the whole world that he, Harry Edward Styles, is pregnant.

He starts off with the band and crew. Louis and Harry stand in front of the small gathering of their friends and told them the happy news.

Niall, of course, was not affected by the news, but he still congratulates the two with warm hugs and slobbery kisses on the cheek.

Next stop was Harry’s mother.

Louis and Harry decide to take a trip down to Anne's during one of their breaks of the tour.

Now, Harry thinks Anne is going to flip complete shit knowing her son is pregnant while on a world tour, oh and he's also only 20 fucking years old. But Anne is ecstatic once the news was out. Anne had ran up stairs and came back with an old, dusty scrap book titled: 9 Months: A Journey.

Anne handed the book to Harry with that famous Cheshire cat smile the Styles' were famous for, "I was saving this for Gemma, thinking she was going to be the one to get pregnant but I guess this one was a plot twist,"

Louis scrunches his nose at the book but Harry took the scrapbook nonetheless, promising to take pictures, and jot down every little memory that comes in the way of his pregnancy. As cheesy as a scrap book may sound, Harry is more than excited to start this book off. He thought maybe he should make a cheesy scrapbook, since it is his first baby, and for fucks sake, he's having a baby with Louis.

So he starts off the scrap book with the dingy plastic pregnancy test, which he still had lying around the bathroom sink, and continues it with a picture of the side of his barely showing stomach.

☀

"Do you even know how far along you are, love?" Louis asks one lazy morning, as the both laid on the couch watching a Friends marathon.

Harry scrunches his eyebrows, turning to face the big spoon of the cuddle fest, "I've actually haven't got a clue," Harry mumbles looking down at his tummy,

"Shouldn't be too far a long right? M'not showing much," Harry mumbles.

"Well then, let's go find out tomorrow then, yeah? Tomorrow?" Louis suggests, booping the tip of Harry’s nose.

Harry nods, cuddling his head into the crook of Louis' neck,

"Lou?” Harry whispers into the crook of Louis’ neck.

“Hmm?”

“We're having a baby," Harry smiles to himself.

He's having a baby- they're having a baby, and he can't fathom the happiness that is pouring out of his soul.

☀

They've managed to squeeze in a doctor’s appointment between constant interviews, all consisting of Harry's pregnancy. After Louis and Harry told management the news, it was time to tell the media, and that created a spark of new stories and gossip.

Blind Gossip, of course, were the first to let out the news about Harry's pregnancy.

Harry Styles: pregnant?!?

That's right, the boy band member you all drool over in your sleep is PREGNANT. And who could be the father? Why, no other than the other flaming gay boybander Louis Tomlinson.

Do you think it's going to be a girl or a boy? What do you think the baby should be named? GASP what if Harry has twins! With mama Tomlinson’s blessed twin genes, there’s no telling if Louis was blessed with those genes too! What do you think Directioners?

Keep up with us for more news on the happy couple, and their miracle waiting to happen!

Anyway, at the doctors, Harry lays on the paper wrapped bed, his legs spread open and the paper underneath him crinkling each time he moved (he never really did understand why doctors’ offices put that annoyingly crinkly paper on top of the bed.)

"Alright, boys, what're you in for?" The doctor with a long scruffy beard (Louis decided to call him Mr. Scruffy, and Harry nagged him saying the doctor wasn't a dog.) asks.

"I-um, we like- want to just," Harry points down at his barely showing stomach, "How far along, and-I'm pregnant, dude," Harry states bluntly.

"Right, then, let's get you set up, yeah?" Harry reaches for Louis' hand while Mr. Scruffy squeezes freezing cold gel onto Harry's stomach, taking the sonographer wand and pressing down onto Harry's tummy.

It was uncomfortable at first- the wand moving around his stomach, but when Harry sees the lemon sized object on the ultra sound screen, his heart flutteres with joy. His chest swells, tears welling up in his eyes. Harry looks up at Louis who too had tears in his eyes,

"That's our baby, love," Louis sniffles, squeezing Harry's hand tighter, "I made that, we made that- holy shit,"

"Well that is your baby and it's about 14 weeks old, just the right time to find out its gender," Mr. Scruffy smiles at the two.

Louis looks down at Harry again with the biggest smirk on his face, "Bet you dinner that it's a boy,"

Harry smirks up at him then, "Bet you a movie that it's a girl,"

"You really want to bet on that?" Louis challenges.

"Bet."

They watch The Perks of Being a Wallflower later that night. 

☀

"Damnit, Louis, just pick a bloody shade of pink," Harry mutters through his teeth, obviously annoyed by Louis' lack of care for the color of their child’s room.

Louis holds up two different (they were actually the same fucking shade) strips of paint in front of the wall of their soon-to-be baby's room.

Louis sighs, turning to face Harry who was standing with his hand supporting his back, "They look the same, Harry,"

Harry's the size of a cantaloupe at this stage of his pregnancy (week 24 to be exact.) and he's is just about done with this pregnancy. His eyes are dry- so is his fucking mouth, his breath smells like shit, and he's been peeing like mad.

Really, all he asks from Louis is to pick a shade of pink for their little girl’s room,

"Lou, please just pick a shade, then go fetch me some chocolate covered pickles," Harry begs, waving his hand like a diva. And if Louis wasn't so fond of Harry, and if it weren't for the fact that Harry is 24 weeks pregnant and would burst into tears whenever he didn't get what he wanted, Louis would have cursed him out a long time ago. But Louis is hopelessly fond of Harry, and Harry is 24 weeks pregnant and feeling as low as possible, so Louis gave in. He chooses the second shade.

 “Fine, the first shade is fine,” Louis finally chooses the shade Harry claims to be a darker shade of salmon.

“Oh god, Louis, why that color?” Harry asks sniffling loudly, signaling to Louis that he was (yet again) at the point of tears.

If Harry wasn’t bloody 24 weeks pregnant, and if he didn’t cry for every single thing, Louis wouldn’t know how to tolerate Harry’s annoyance. If this were to be any other situation where Harry wasn’t pregnant, there would be curse words being thrown at each other. But Louis knew Harry was a bit indecisive, and well, he is pregnant. So, Louis tolerated it no matter how badly he wants to curse Harry out.

Louis looks up at Harry who had little tears trickling down his face already, “Hey, love, it’s just a color, yeah?”

Louis cups Harry’s cheeks with his hand, wiping the tears away with his thumb, “This room will turn out to be beautiful no matter what, and I’m sure our baby will love it nonetheless,” Louis assures Harry.

Harry nods, sniffling again and wiping his runny, red nose with the back of his hand.

“She will love it,” Harry smiles, placing his hand over Louis’ who was still cupping Harry’s cheeks, “She’ll love it, and play in it, and we’re going to be the best parents in the whole wide world!”

Harry’s smile grew wider, as did Louis’, because really they are going to be the best parents. Harry wants to dress his little girl in frilly dresses, and braid her hair and top it off with a big bow at the top of her head. Harry wants to take her to the park and watch Louis push her on the swing set. Harry wants to take her out to ice cream whenever she seemed to have a bad day. Harry wants to do anything, and everything to make his baby happy.

And Louis, oh Louis wants to take millions of pictures on her first day of school. Louis wants to teach her how to play the piano, and record her first piano recital. Louis wants to beat up the kid who ever dares to break his little girl’s heart. Louis wants to teach her how to drive, and be there when she’s ready to go off for university.

Louis and Harry both want so much for their little girl, though, she has to get here first.

“Of course we will, babe,” Louis pops up on his tippy toes to place a soft kiss on Harry’s lips.

“Now, go on, the paint fumes aren’t good for the baby,” Louis slaps Harry’s bum, pushing him softly to exit the room.

☀

Harry is 30 weeks pregnant, and glowing. Louis thinks he is possibly the beautiful creature in the world (really).

But Harry thinks otherwise. He started reading pregnancy articles and websites and found out that at 30 weeks is when the pregnancy weight gain really started to kick in. And he's noticed.

He notices when he wakes up one morning, sobbing in front of the bathroom mirror, "Louis!" Harry yells like a banshee, sobbing in front of the mirror.

Louis almost has a right heart attack thinking, maybe, something serious had happened to Harry, or the baby, or Harry and the baby.

Louis runs into the bathroom with a frantic look on his face (Harry would've laughed if he wasn't too busy choking on his sobs)

"Babe, what's wrong? Are you okay- Is, fuck- is the baby okay?" Louis asks, cupping Harry’s face in his hands, inspecting every aspect of his face.

"I'm fat, Louis! I'm like a whale, fucking hell, look at me!" Harry chokes out, turning to get a view the side of his stomach, rubbing circles near his abdomen,

"I'm so tired of being pregnant! She's fucking ruining me! My skin is breaking out, my breath smells like shit- fuck, Lou, we haven't had sex in months," Harry rubs the lines forming on his forehead, pacing back and forth, his breath staggering from his lengthy rant, "You don't even want to touch me anymore, oh god, I'm disgusting"

Louis wraps his arms around Harry's tummy, rubbing it soothingly, "Baby, shhh, breathe okay?"

Harry inhales slowly through his nose, and exhales out his mouth, listening to Louis’ soft words.

"You're beautiful, love, you've never looked so stunning," Louis coos, "Did you know you're glowing, love? You're bloody glowing like a goddess, or something. If that's not beauty then I don't know what is,"

Louis' words calms Harry down a bit, his breathing becoming normal again (as normal as it can be at 30 weeks pregnant.) He looks down at Louis' hands rubbing his stomach. He places his hands over Louis', smiling ever so fondly.

If there were to be a word to describe their relationship perfectly, it would be fond. Fond because, well, Louis loved Harry no matter what he did. Even when Harry broke his favorite mug, or when he uses three towels after taking a shower; Louis loved him either way.

And Harry looks up to Louis in so many ways; his strength, his maturity, his way of handling situations where Harry would usually just freak out. Harry looked up, and admired basically everything Louis does.

So, really, fond is the word.

☀

It was when Louis and Harry were cuddling in bed, watching Netflix when Harry started lactating.

First of all, Harry was completely and utterly positive that men aren't supposed to lactate (nonetheless be able to get pregnant.) but when Louis was rubbing Harry's stomach (he's been doing that a lot.) Harry feels a warm, wet feeling coming from his nipples.

"Um, Lou?" Harry asks, tapping Louis' hand lightly.

"More chocolate pickles?"

Harry chuckles nervously, "No, um-I, text your mum and ask if leaking liquid from your nipples is normal...”

Louis scrunched his nose up in confusion, but doesn't question Harry any further and texts his mother.

Mum, Harry’s nipples are leaking. What’s happening? xx

Harry is lactating xx

The fuck does that mean, mum? x

Language, Louis and he's leaking breast milk, poppet. xx

 Louis looks up at Harry with his hand covering his mouth, stifling out the laugh that was threatening to escape.

Harry props himself up on his elbow, scrunching his eyebrows down at Louis.

"What'd she say?"

Louis tries his best not to laugh at Harry because one: he's pregnant and recently overly sensitive and two: he's fucking leaking milk from his nipples, but he did and Harry's annoyance just grew with every second of unknowing-ness.

"Why the fuck are you laughing? Tell me why my nipples are wet!"

 When Louis controls his laughter to a soft chuckle, he wraps his arms around Harry’s waist, poking at his leaking nipples.

"Love, your leaking milk, which is completely normal from what my mum says,"

 Harry wants to scream, really, leaking nipples? He’s bloody leaking milk from his nipples. Harry didn’t even know men can lactate milk (he also didn’t men can get pregnant, but look at him now).

"Normal? Fucking normal, Lou?" Louis tries to stifle is laughter again, watching his husband freak over his leaking nipples was a right laugh.

 "I'm leaking milk from my nipples, Louis. What the fuck?"

Louis is in a complete fit of laughter at this point, and Harry doesn't know whether to cry or to punch Louis straight in his face.

 "Fuck you," Harry mutters, turning away from Louis.

"Hey, love, c'mon it's alright,” Louis tugs onto Harry’s shoulder, “You're just making milk for out little baby, we'll just have to buy you those nipple cushions,"

Harry rolls his eyes, "They're called breast pads, Louis,"

Louis stands up from their bed, going into their closet and slipping on a pair of pants, grabbing his keys and giggling, "Nipple cushions,"

Harry rolls his eyes watching Louis (literally) skip out of their bedroom like a little girl. And Harry swears he’s in love with a child.

☀

"Oh my god, Louis," Harry gasps, coming to a realization at the ass crack of fuckface o'clock in the morning.

"What, Harry?" Louis mutters, burying his face further into Harry's shoulder.

"We haven't named her yet,"

Then Louis lifts his head and smiles, "Let's name her then,"

Louis sit up and sits crisscross applesauce.

"Help me sit up," Harry asks and Louis places a hand on the lower part of Harry's back and pushed him up. Harry leans over to their nightstand and grabbed a note pad and pen.

 "So, I want to name her something unique, and beautiful,"

They both silently sit in thought, "What about Lana?" Louis suggests, and Harry quite liked that name but he really didn’t want to name his baby after Lana Del Rey which he knows Louis is completely obsessed with.

“We’re not naming her after Lana Del Rey, Lou.”

Louis puffs out a huff of air, “But why?” Louis whines. Harry just rolls his eyes, and continues to think of names.

Harry props his chin to rest on the palm of his hand. He thinks of Stephanie, but it’s too plain and simple. He thinks of Felicity, but that’s Louis’ sisters’ name.

"Do you like Farah? I heard it means happiness and well, she is our happiness," Harry blushes, looking up at Louis through his thick eyelashes. Louis looks so beautiful in the dim lighting of the morning. And Harry thinks he can never compete with that. With a swollen belly, and a broken out face, Harry can never.

"Add it to the list," Louis mumbles tiredly. Harry writes down Farah with a side note stating it was his favorite.

Louis gasps, jumping up and down on the bed like a child trying to wake his parents up on Christmas morning, "Oh my fucking god, Harry, I've got it. I've got the perfect name for our baby,"

"What is it," Harry chirps.

"Okay, ready? Drum roll, please," Harry taps their bed with the pads of his fingers, making a drum beat, "Naomi. Naomi Tomlinson,”

Even in the dim light of the morning, Harry can still make out the bright smile on Louis' face and Harry smiles then thinking it really is a perfect name. The beauty of the name Naomi and of course the beauty of Louis' last name, "Why not Styles, though?"

"Because I'm more dominant, get with the program here, Harry,"

So, Naomi Tomlinson it is.

☀

It's week 39 and Harry can barely get out of bed without the help of Louis, and can barely stay standing for a long period of time. His ankles, feet, wrists, and hands are swelling and he's just about had it with this bloody pregnancy.

"Louuuuuis!" Harry calls out, he's been having contractions all day, and he can't tell if they're false or not (To make sure, Louis calls their doctor 20 times)

"I'm coming, love, c'mon stand up for me," Louis encourages, coming towards a panting Harry sitting at the edge of their bed with a heating pad against his back.

 Louis grips Harry’s arm to help him up. Harry was halfway standing when he feels his sweatpants dampen. He looks up at Louis with wide eyes, and heavy, staggered breaths.

"Fuck Louis, fuck fuck fuck-mother fucking, fucking-" Louis looks down at Harry now soaked sweats.

"Fucking shit, holy hell your water broke," Harry looks up at Louis with a 'No fucking shit.' look, because really, no fucking shit, Louis.

Harry panics, his grip on Louis’ arm tightening, "Fucking take me to the hospital, you twatting piece of no good fucking-urrgh," Harry curses, wincing and holding onto his stomach. The contractions feel like a thousand knives stabbing him in the abdomen, his face would scrunch up in pain and his knees would go weak.

“Louis, love-urgh, please just take me to the hospital,” Harry begs, his breaths uneven, and his forehead dampening with sweat.

Louis runs to their closet where Harry had a hospital bag packed and ready in case shit like this happened. Really, Louis thought Harry would have to get induced because of how close the due date was coming and his water hadn't broken yet. But nope, little Naomi decided sneak attack the shit out of Harry, and decided to pop out right then and there.

I'm loving you already, Naomi. Louis thinks to himself as he hurls the bag into the back seat of their car, and rushes a limping, heavy breathing Harry out the house to the front seat of their car.

"Fucking shit, Louis are you good for anything? Hurry the fuck up before I fucking feed your dick to the dogs,"

So, Harry was the angry labor type.

"I'm fucking going, Harry," Louis curses back.

Louis had imagined this moment plenty of times before in his dreams, while making breakfast, and especially when he was cuddling with Harry. He'd imagined a magical moment where Harry's water would break, and they'd both rush to the hospital with their mothers and the boys in the waiting room until the baby came out; He'd imagined Harry squeezing his hand as he tried to get the miracle they created out.

 Oh, but Louis didn't expect this 'magical' moment to end up like this mess; Harry yelling at Louis to drive faster before he gives birth on his face, and Louis, well, he was just trying not to get a speeding ticket.

So, Louis speeds off to the hospital. Occasionally looking to the side to see his beautiful husband (even when he was panting, and sweating, and cursing like a sailor he was definitely still beautiful.) holding his stomach, and squeezing his eyes tight with each contractions.

"Love, are you keeping track of your contractions?" Louis asks in a calm voice as he parks their car into the emergency room parking lot.

"I can barely think-urgh fuck," Harry took a deep breath before continuing, "I can barely think straight, Louis, fuck get this baby out of me,"

Louis runs to the other side of the car, holding onto Harry's arm and helping him out the car.

"Okay, baby I need you to walk- or limp, or whatever the fuck you can do as quickly as possible. Can you do that for me?" Louis asks but Harry says nothing though, all that came out of his mouth were short pants.

So, together they scurry towards the emergency room where Louis almost curses the receptionist out for not getting Harry a god damn wheel chair when he was so close to popping that baby out right there. And as if in almost an instant, Harry was getting wheeled into labor, where he squeezes Louis' hand tight to the point where Louis could barely feel it.

Cries of pain could be heard from the down the hall, into the lobby where Anne and Jay sat holding each other’s hands, Liam pacing back and forth while Zayn and Niall played a round of goldfish on the floor.

Heaving breathing, pushing and a slur of curse words later, she was here.

☀

"Just look at her, Louis," Harry coos, wrapping Naomi's hand around his finger, "She looks so peaceful,"

Louis smiles, cuddling closer into Harry, “She looks so much like you, Harry. The eyes, the hair, the penis shaped nose with oddly large nostrils, everything.”

Harry snorts, “You’re a dick, Louis,”

Louis pushes a still sweaty curl from Harry’s face, “Yeah, but you love me,”

Harry makes a face at Louis, the face. The face where he’s blushing yet desperately trying not to smile like an idiot. The face he only makes at Louis because Louis was the only one who makes him so incredibly happy that it’s difficult to hide the smile growing on his face. There was no denying Harry was in love with Louis.

And Harry would be lying if he said his cheeks didn't hurt from smiling so much; he'd be lying if he said his dimple weren't at their most prominent at the moment; he'd be lying because this was the best day of his life.

No day can top this day.

It wasn't the best day of his life only because finally got the baby he's wanted since he first met Louis, but it was the fact he had this baby with Louis himself. Honestly, Harry thought, what could be better than that?

He tries to make a list in his head of things that could be better than having Naomi with Louis:

• Having another baby with Louis.
• Having another baby with Louis.
• And having another baby with Louis.

Well, basically the only thing better than having a baby with Louis is having more babies with Louis.

But, right now he has Naomi, and he has Louis, and really, Harry couldn't ask for anything more.