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Rain was pattering against the window when Louis woke up. Against his side, Harry was still sleeping, curls messy over his face and fingers splayed on Louis’ chest. His breathing was still even and deep, but Louis recognized the signs of him waking. It was quieter than usual, the only sound in their dark bedroom coming from the raindrops hitting the windows, and Louis stretched his muscles, rumpling the sheets. Saturdays weren’t usually this quiet, and he was determined to enjoy every second of it. Usually, they could hear the pattering of feet or giggles under the bedsheets the second the sun rose. Today though, there was nothing but the calming silence of the morning.
As Harry was stirring awake, slowly, and lazily, a soft smile started blooming on his beautiful lips and he scooted closer, pulling himself half on top of Louis. He sighed quietly, contentedly, burrowing his face in the crook of Louis’ neck, tickling his skin with his breath. Louis couldn’t stop himself from nosing along Harry’s temple, kissing him there lightly.
“Good morning, angel,” Louis whispered, letting gentle fingers pass through Harry’s hair, massaging him lightly at the nape. “Sleep well?”
As a response, Harry only nodded, tired and still soft from sleep. But he tightened his hold around Louis, squeezing him as he slid his legs higher, entangling them. In all the years they’ve been together, Louis was still amazed how active and awake Harry was every morning, however early. How he loved to go for runs at ungodly hours or doing yoga just as the sun rose. On Saturdays like this though, Harry loved to burrow under the sheets, holding onto Louis in the warmth of their bed. On days like these, Harry was never the first to let go.
Louis revelled in the closeness, in touching Harry everywhere he could reach, just innocently and gently, fingers lazily passing over exposed skin. His skin was soft under Louis’ touch, smooth and delicate, especially where it was thin and sensitive. Where Harry would get flustered, touches there driving him crazy, but would never pull away, just like the inside of his wrist. Louis liked those parts the best. He traced them meticulously, having his body memorised like a map inside his brain. Tracing the ridges of Harry’s spine, Louis stroked gently down his back.
Their bedroom was still dark, and it made it easier to keep their eyes closed, to pretend the day was not yet arriving. With Harry in his arms, Louis would gladly stay in bed for days, letting the sun pass and pass again. Cuddles and some kisses in between were all he needed at that moment.
Even though Louis was ready to let the morning pass like this, he’d love some coffee and he knew Harry would appreciate some as well, especially in bed and back in Louis’ arms. He tried to disentangle himself from Harry’s embrace, but all Harry did was hold on tighter, grumbling discontentedly.
“Come on, love,” Louis whispered, as he tried to get up from beneath Harry. “I promise, I’ll be back in a sec.”
“Just a minute more,” he pleaded. Harry knew it was a plea Louis could never say no to, smiling fondly down at his husband. It always evoked memories of a younger Harry, still a little innocent with round, open eyes. Sighing, he let himself fall back against the headboard for just a little while.
After indulging Harry in some soft kisses and gently raking through his hair, Louis sat up again. Harry nearly seemed offended at Louis’ audacity to try and get up and huffed out a breath. Instead of letting go, Harry slipped even further onto Louis, effectively lying fully on top of him, and started pressing slow and sweet kisses on Louis’ exposed collarbones.
“Please, baby.”
At those words, Harry lifted his head, smiling so softly up at him and it still made Louis’ heart clench, even after all those years. “I’ll be quick,” he said, casting his hand through Harry’s hair again.
“Promise?”
“Promise,” Louis wiggled out from under him, and as he left, he pulled the duvet up over Harry’s naked torso and left a brief kiss on his cheek.
Outside, the rain had picked up during the night, going from a light drizzle to a full-blown storm. The first of this year’s summer, washing away the air of spring. When Louis walked into the kitchen, to get the coffee machine started, it was quite dark out, the clouds thick and black, blocking even the tiniest ray of sunshine trying to force its way through. While the coffee machine groaned to life, he listened to the sounds of rain against the window, leaving wet trails on the panes. For days now Harry had been saying it was going to rain, and every time Louis had smiled at the open sky and had said, “Sure, love.” But of course, he had been right.
Today, it only meant a wonderfully cosy day for them, spent lounging in bed for as long as they wanted. Usually, Harry loved to spend most of their weekend outside, preferably in the sun, always coaxing Louis to join him in the park for some football or on a roof terrace for dinner. Family outings were frequent as well, which was why Louis was so grateful for the calm of today. Days like today, Harry abandoned his love for activities though, and preferred to curl up under blankets or around Louis.
Silently, Louis urged the coffee machine to go faster, wanting to get back to Harry, to their warm bed as quickly as he could. He brewed them both a cup of fresh coffee, his own black and Harry’s with hot foamed almond milk, just like every day.
When he slipped back under the duvet, handing Harry his coffee and pulling him closer again, Harry seemed a little more awake than before. He smiled at him, gorgeous as ever, even after having just woken up, still soft from sleep, his lovely dimples deep.
“Kiss?” Harry demanded, tilting his head upwards. There simply was no way Louis could deny his beautiful husband, cuddled against him with sleepy eyes and such a lovely pout, begging to be indulged.
Louis kissed him softly, languidly, unhurried and with so much love.
“Morning Lou,” Harry finally said, taking tiny sips of his coffee. They settled against the headboard, Harry in his arms. “Thanks for the coffee.”
“Always, love,” Louis leaves a tender kiss on the top of his head.
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Since the rain seemed determined to stay, they decided to stay in bed, letting the day pass lazily. Their coffee cups emptied, with Harry’s head in his lap, absentmindedly stroking through his curls, Louis opened the local paper he had picked up from their front door on his way back from the kitchen.
He read some bits to Harry, the ones he knew he would find interesting, even if Louis himself didn’t, thumbing through the sections they both enjoyed while mindlessly pulling at Harry’s hair. Lately, Louis could see more and more silver peeking through the dark brown and he loved every glimpse of it. His own hair having greyed earlier, light at his temples, Louis loved to see Harry’s hair change as well. A testament of them growing old together.
“There’s gonna be a new play,” Louis smiled down at Harry as he flipped to the arts section of the paper.
Harry had always loved the theatre, used to drag Louis to the most ridiculous shows in back-alley theatres, back when they were dead broke. Back then, they had lived in a tiny studio apartment and going out was limited to once a month. He had always found a way, though, and some of their fondest memories were one-woman shows in libraries or musicals they saw while standing in the back of the theatre.
Now though, occasionally, Louis took Harry on lavish dates, spoiling him rotten with not only attention, but also with fancy dinners and tickets to beautiful theatres. Harry liked to pretend he thought it was all too much, that Louis didn’t need to go all out for these nights, but when Harry smiled at him, at the end of them, tucked into his side in their bed, Louis always knew it was worth it. Harry deserved to feel like a princess from time to time.
“I’ll take you,” Louis promised at Harry’s curious look, his eyes glimmering with excitement. “If you let me take you out, angel?”
Harry laughed lightly, in this cute way, when he was indulging Louis, “You don’t have to ask.”
“Sure, I do,” Louis disagreed. “You think, just because we’re married means you’re a sure thing?”
“Well, yeah!” Harry giggled, wiggling around in Louis’ lap until he could properly look at him. “Think I even said it in my vows. Obligated to go on every date with you.”
When Louis only pulled his eyebrows up in question, Harry sat up swiftly. “What? You don’t believe me?”
Truthfully, Louis didn’t. He was pretty sure he knew all the lovely things Harry had said in his vows by heart, and none of them included Harry being a sure thing, but he answered, “Of course I do, love.” Both were smiling at each other, just a tiny hint of mischief in Harry’s eyes.
“I can show you,” Harry pouted, trying to disentangle himself from the warm embrace of their bed, but getting tangled in their duvet. “I just need to-” Louis didn’t doubt for a second Harry would go look for the written version of his vows just to interpret one of the lines a little falsely, only to prove Louis wrong.
“Don’t you dare get out of bed,” Louis smiled, pulling Harry back into him by his middle. After some pretend struggling, and a lot of non-pretend giggling, Harry settled back into Louis' side again, his head resting on his chest.
“I’d love to go on a date with you,” Harry mumbled into his skin, hiding his smile from Louis’ eyes. In moments like these, Louis thanked the universe again and again for the gift that was his husband.
Louis had been happy. He genuinely had been happy with his life, his friends and loving family, his job. When he had met Harry though, he had added something, an indescribable joy, that filled every corner of Louis, warmed him from the inside out and coloured everything bright and yellow. Harry brought him his own personal sunshine.
“Lovely,” Louis smiled and bent down to kiss Harry on his forehead, just fleetingly.
He still remembered the first time he had asked Harry out, the first date they ever went on Louis took him to a football game. One of his best friends was playing and while they stood there on the sidelines, cheering him on, they kept leaning into each other. Some time during the match, Harry’s hand had found its way into Louis’ coat pocket and it stayed there, their fingers linked.
“Read to me a little more?” Harry interrupted Louis’ thoughts after a while, playing absentmindedly with the rings on his fingers, silver and heavy, all surrounding the wedding band on his ring finger. So, Louis did. His voice low in the sanctuary of their bedroom, lights dim and the sound of rain against their windows.
For a while that was all they did, all they needed.
Until Harry complained, “‘M cold."
Louis snorted at that. Of course he was, he always was. Or that was what he said, at least. Louis suspected it had something to do with the fact that whenever Harry claimed to be cold, he opened his arms, inviting him in. Allowing him to press his cold feet against his legs, even.
So, he pushed the paper to the side and opened his arms, “Come here, love.” It fluttered off the bed with the motion, the pages rusting in the quiet. Harry giggled.
It was still dim, even this deep into the morning, so when Harry pushed back into Louis’ embrace, it still felt like the gentle cuddles of the night. They didn’t speak, didn’t need to, when they could feel the other so close, when all had been said between them. The good mornings and I love yous, all the kisses shared in the dark.
Silence had never felt so comfortable, so safe and secure. Wandering hands were innocent between them, kisses pressed gently into shoulders, movements slow and languid.
They stayed like that for a while, how long, Louis didn’t know. He didn’t need to. All he cared about was Harry in his arms, his hair smelling faintly of peaches and his skin smooth under his fingertips. Louis let them trail down his arms, linking their fingers for a second, squeezing before pulling away again, only to stroke over the warm skin of his stomach. Harry pushed into his touch, breathing in deeply to broaden his chest, giving Louis more to touch.
Not even whispers exchanged between them, Louis could feel Harry drifting in and out of sleep again, the lines of his body so soft and relaxed, Louis wanted nothing more than to kiss all of them. Trace the slopes of his back with his finger, just to see where they’d lead, leave a kiss on every part of him. As Harry’s breathing evened out, Louis himself relaxed against Harry’s back, allowing them another hour of sleep.
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By midmorning, they had moved into the living room, where Harry had opened the windows to the balcony. The sound of the storm was louder this way, but the air felt crisp and clean, and they both took a deep breath.
The book Louis was reading was just the right amount of boring, where it didn’t need his full attention, as he kept getting distracted by his husband. First it was because he demanded a kiss every few minutes. Then, when he had moved to the other side of the couch to continue one of his newest craft projects, Harry had pushed his cold toes into Louis’ thigh, as a reminder he was still there.
Louis wasn’t sure what Harry was actually doing with all this yarn and the tiny needles, but he indulged him every single time Harry excitedly told him about something new he wanted to try. Mostly, Harry couldn’t keep to one thing, getting distracted through projects and looking for something new. In their storage closet, Harry had a full cupboard of different projects, from crocheting hooks to jewellery beads.
Louis was never going to tell him off though, when Harry always looked so proud, showing him the most wonky and unrecognisable crafts. So, every once in a while, when they deep cleaned their apartment, and the cupboard came into question, Louis would ask “You need to keep all that?” and Harry would always say the same thing. “I’ll continue that when I’m done with my current project.” He never did and all Louis could do was smile about it and buy him another book on knitting for Christmas, hoping one day he’d get a finished sock, or preferably two.
“Look,” Harry said now, tapping Louis repeatedly on his thigh. There it was, the proud beam on Harry’s face, as he showed off a piece of fabric in a wooden circle. The bright yarn in the middle vaguely resembled a flower. Either way, Louis smiled, “It’s beautiful, angel.”
“You recognise it?” Harry asked with a teasing smirk, wagging the hoop a little into Louis’ direction. “Or are you just being nice?”
Harry knew him too well. He could read him like a book. That’s what marriage is about though, Louis figured, as he tried to squint at the flower to see what it was supposed to resemble. “I’m sorry, love,” Louis confessed after a second. “Tell me, though?”
Harry smiled then, in a way that it had taken Louis years to figure out what it meant. In a way that felt like all Harry could do was smile, like Louis was the centre of his mind. Secretly, Louis had called that smile Harry’s Louis Smile. They had talked about it once, after a night of banter and sweet kisses on their balcony, when everything between them had been slow and sweet. Harry had smiled at him just like he was now.
“Baby,” Louis asked back then, gently nudging him, “why are you looking at me like that?” At those words, Harry’s smile brightened, his dimples deepened. When he answered, Harry’s voice was low, mixing with the smoke from Louis’ cigarette.
“You know that feeling when you wait so long for the sun to set? And you look at all those colours and they’re already so beautiful, but you keep looking, because you know there’s gonna be that one perfect moment of those colours, and that’s the one you’ve been waiting for?”
Louis hadn’t been sure he knew exactly what Harry was talking about, but he nodded, and Harry continued. “That feeling, when the whole sky is filled with such beautiful colours, when that moment finally comes - that’s how I feel, when I look at you.”
Now, Louis called it his Sunset Smile.
“It’s a daisy,” Harry smiled, and once he said it, Louis could see it. It made his heart clench with adoration for Harry. Daisies had always been his favourite flowers.
“Come here,” Louis pulled him closer, until they were entangled on the sofa, chest to chest. “It’s beautiful, love.”
They stayed like that for a while, listening to the rain through the open windows. In the years they had known each other, loved each other, Louis came to admire a million little things about Harry. Some of those things were his compassion, his kindness, and his wonderful laugh. Others were how his hair curled at the nape of his neck or the way he tapped his foot to the beat of television commercials. Or Harry’s love for the rain.
He had gotten up and now, as he was standing at the open doors of their balcony, curtains billowing around him with the cold air, Louis couldn’t help but smile fondly at his husband. Even with the severity of the storm, everything about Harry seemed relaxed. The lines of his shoulders smooth, his smile gentle and gaze focussed on the darkness of the sky.
Thunder rumbled in the distance as Louis came up behind him, winding his arms around Harry’s middle and hooking his chin over his shoulder.
“Aren’t you cold, love?” he asked with a kiss to Harry’s cheek. “You’re letting in all the rain.”
Harry chuckled, gripping Louis’ arms and pulling them tighter around himself. “Just a minute more.”
They looked out in the distance for a while, their otherwise beautiful view hazy with the rain. “Just one,” Louis whispered into Harry’s shoulder, just like Harry had told him all those years back when they had met.
It was a rainy Tuesday evening, on the outskirts of London. Louis had been visiting his older brother’s house and they had forgotten the time, so when he finally made his way to the bus station it was late at night and ice cold.
It had been drizzling for hours, typical weather for this early in the year, so Louis zipped his jacket up all the way to the top and sought shelter under the roof of the bus station. On the display it said the bus was supposed to show up in one minute, but it hadn’t changed in a few more than that, which probably meant it was delayed. If he wasn’t so far from home and it wasn’t so close to zero degrees, Louis would’ve walked home. He had no choice but to wait.
A few paces away, a man was waiting as well and he was shivering so badly, Louis could even see it from where he was standing. Not even the occasional car drove by them for minutes.
“It’s not gonna come, is it?” the man turned towards Louis after a while, still visibly shaking from the cold. His cheeks were flushed from the wind, but now that Louis could get a good look at him, he saw the man’s beautifully bright eyes, still sparkling in the dark.
Louis shook his head defeatedly and glanced at the display. It still said one minute, but Louis figured they both knew that it wouldn’t come in the next minute or the one after that. He debated calling for a cab, but his checking account was dangerously close to being overdrawn and the fare home would nearly be equivalent to a week’s worth of groceries.
“Probably not,” he answered, a little demoralised. The drizzle had not only picked up, but had transformed into an outright downpour, splashing onto the ground in thick drops. Both men stepped back, a little closer, under the shelter of the bus station’s roof.
“I should be used to the weather by now,” the stranger smiled at Louis. His hair was plastered onto his forehead, his clothes soaked through, and his lips chapped, probably from biting it distractedly. Louis still had never seen a man this captivating. “But it still surprises me.”
Louis chuckled, agreeing with the attractive stranger. They fell into conversation quickly, both stuck in place by the rain. For quite some time, they stood there, talking in bits and pieces, the display never changing.
“Just a minute more,” Louis answered, when the man who had introduced himself as Harry had asked how long he thought it was still going to be. It was more like an hour, but they spent the time chatting. When he got home that night, he had Harry’s number saved into his phone and the possibility of a date on his mind.
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When Louis had suggested getting a record player some time back, Harry called him a snob. Said Louis was pretentious for claiming “the feel of vinyl is just superior,” teased him endlessly for it.
Some days later though, when Louis came home from work, Harry had cleaned off the sideboard in their living room. On it, he had placed a beautifully wrapped record and Louis unwrapped it with Harry bouncing excitedly in his lap. When it fell out of the paper, it had been one of Louis’ favourite albums, signed by the artist.
It was the vinyl that was spinning on the record player now, soft music filling the living room. Over the years, their collection had grown immensely, going from a very humble collection of favourites to a cupboard designated to all their records. His initial apprehension aside, Louis was sure that most of the vinyls they had now were actually Harry’s.
Now they owned a mix of so many different things, some of them brand new releases, some older than both of them, some by pop princesses and some by indie rock bands. A lot of them they had found on some of their trips, perusing flea markets and looking for older titles and iconic artists. More than a few Harry had simply picked up because he liked the cover art, like the one they had gotten on one of their last trips from a garage sale. They hadn’t known neither the album, nor the artist, but they had liked the cover, Harry gently tracing the artwork, probably faded from years sitting in a dusty basement.
Louis came back from the kitchen with their tea, kissing Harry on the top of his head as he settled next to him on the floor. He was surrounded by stacks and stacks of vinyls, some precariously high and one very close to tipping. Louis straightened it a little with his foot.
“Whatcha doing, angel?” he asked.
“Sorting,” Harry looked up from the record in his lap, smiling at him. “Want to help?”
“‘Course.”
Harry carefully pushed a stack towards Louis and then some clear protective sleeves to put them into. Falling in love with vinyls for Louis meant listening to them whenever he wanted. For Harry it meant a dedication to them, putting care into them. Making sure they’re stored correctly, cleaned and dust free, slipped in protective sleeves.
“You remember this concert?” Harry was holding up the vinyl of one of his favourite bands. It had been one of their first dates, not long after having met. Harry’s friend who was supposed to go with him, had gotten ill. So he took Louis there instead, who accidentally spilled one of their beers down the front of his shirt. Harry hadn’t stopped laughing about it for three songs. He did take off his jacket and offered it to Louis though, even while giggling delightedly.
“You smelled so bad for the whole night” Harry laughed as he started sorting the stacks not only by artist but the year they were released.
“You still let me kiss you goodnight,” Louis countered with a fond smile.
After the date in front of Harry’s door, a little like in the movies, Louis walked him up the stairs, a hesitant hand pressed in the small of his back to guide him. There was a quiet moment between them, like the second of silence between lightning and thunder, where they both swayed forward, closer to each other. It was their first kiss. After seven years of marriage, it was still one of Louis’ favourites.
“That one was ‘89,” Harry pointed towards a vinyl. Louis took it off the 90s stack and held it out to Harry.
They sat in silence for a while, sorting through their collection and replacing some of the damaged protective sleeves. Louis had flipped the record they were playing some time ago, and Harry was singing quietly along.
When he sang, his voice was low and beautiful. It filled Louis with so much warmth, hearing Harry share some of the love Louis had for this album. He joined in, finishing the refrain with Harry.
“I love that record so much,” Louis smiled.
It was funny, how well their completely different tastes in music meshed, a beautiful mix of genres, artist and meaning. But in the end, they both simply enjoyed listening, and enjoyed discussing music itself, no matter their tastes.
“You’d be a good musician yourself,” Harry suggested as he handed him another stack that had come out of alphabetical order.
Louis snorted at that. He loved music, truly, but he wasn’t sure that meant he’d be a good musician. “Are you suggesting a change in career, love?” He laughed at the thought. “You don’t think I’m cool enough now, is that it?”
“Yeah,” Harry giggled, “all I want is a rockstar husband, you’re looking right through me.”
“Aha!” Louis exclaimed and threw an old, crumpled sleeve at his husband. “You just want me for my money and fame.”
“Sure,” Harry smiled. “That’s why I married you when you were dead broke and living with four other people on the edge of town.”
The laughter between them was gentle, reminiscing about that time, so long ago, when they had been so young.
“Come on,” Louis got up from the floor, dusting himself off, even if there was nothing on his sweats. He held out his hand to Harry and after years of being together, his husband knew immediately what he wanted. The smile on his lips was indulgent, humouring Louis’ whims, but always with fondness. “Dance with me?”
It was these moments, the simplest, like dancing in their living room, avoiding stacks of vinyls, that are the ones Louis cherished the most. The simplicity of Harry in his arms, the quiet besides the music playing softly in the background, it all made him feel at home. Harry was his home.
“After all these years,” Harry started and Louis felt like he knew exactly where it was going to go, “even after our dance lessons, you still can’t dance for shit.” He giggled and when Louis pouted in mock-offence he kissed it off his lips sweetly.
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Harry had moved into the bedroom after a while, slipping under the covers with a book, but Louis was quite sure he was dozing off instead of actually reading. He cleaned up a little in their apartment, just tidying up some bits and pieces and threw together a plate of fruit for Harry. When he brought it to the bedroom, Harry was sprawled diagonally on the bed, his face buried in Louis’ pillow and his hair unruly around him.
“Angel,” he whispered, placing the plate of fruit on one of the nightstands and sitting down next to his husband. “You wanna have a snack?”
Harry just mumbled something into the pillow, not stirring in the slightest. In moments like these, where Harry felt so soft and delicate, where all that was between them was love and adoration, Louis would do anything to make him his, if he wasn’t already.
“Baby.”
He could see Harry smile, could see his resolve, to stay smushed into the bedding, crumble. Gently, Louis tangled his fingers into Harry’s curls and scratched lightly at his nape. “I brought some berries for you,” he pressed a lingering kiss on Harry’s forehead, “and some mango.”
Instead of sitting up, Harry just pushed his torso closer to Louis, wrapping his arms around his hips and holding onto him with a smile. He was curled around Louis sitting on the edge of the bed, apparently determined not to let go, pushing his head against Louis’ hand still resting there.
“Come on,” Louis tried to get up, to get a little more comfortable at least, but all Harry did was tighten his grip. “Just budge up so I can properly cuddle you.”
Harry grumbled at that, but Louis knew it wasn’t really serious, since Harry scooted back instantly, making room for him. The second Louis was situated fairly comfortably in their bed, Harry was plastered to his side, nose tucked into the crook of Louis’ neck as he whispered, “You smell amazing.”
“You do too,” Louis countered, and with his hand in Harry’s hair, he pulled him a little from his neck, tipping his head back far enough to look in his eyes. They were smiling at each other, just as they did when they met, when they said I love you for the first time, when they got married, when they made up after a horrible fight. Louis didn’t think he would ever stop smiling at Harry.
Before Louis could bend down to kiss him, Harry lifted himself up a little. He kissed him with so much love, so much like Harry, it made his heart ache. The way Harry kissed was unlike anyone Louis had ever kissed before him. Some of that might’ve been how much he loved Harry, but some of it was just Harry.
He kissed him like Louis was the only thing in Harry’s world, just to feel him close and appreciate all he was. Harry kissed just for the sake of kissing.
It was something that Louis hadn’t done much before Harry. Before Harry, there had only been a short string of flings or relationships that never lasted more than a few months. With them, he had experienced lust, but never love. And none of them had kissed like Harry. He had taught him what it feels like to be content with being close like this, and had made him fall in love with it.
Being close like this, just with each other, intimate without it going somewhere, it still made Louis’ heart flutter. When they pulled apart, Harry’s hair just slightly tangled, he whispered, “I heard you say something about berries?”
A surprised laugh fell from Louis’ lips, both of them giggling like little kids with each other. Louis handed him the fruit nonetheless, and while Harry was snacking on them, he stole one or two off the plate.
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In the evening, the rain faded out into a drizzle. The air was still quite cold, but it felt fresh on their open balcony, and Louis got comfortable on the settee with a blanket from inside. With the awning above him, he was still sheltered from the rain but could enjoy the evening outside.
Harry had been in the shower when Louis went outside, singing along to something playing from his phone, but Louis couldn’t quite figure out the song. Outside though, it was nearly silent, the only sounds were the rain and the quiet drag of his cigarette.
It had been a lovely day, Louis thought. Even after seven years of marriage, a myriad of dates and adventures, more love than he had ever hoped for, he still adored nothing more than these days simply being with Harry. No one ever brought him comfort like Harry did, a calm happiness, contentment.
He was lost in thoughts, onto his second smoke, when Harry poked his head out the doors. “You got room for one more?” he asked with a smile, a beautiful smile. Louis nodded and scooted up the bench a little, lifting his blanket so Harry could slip under it. Pressed against him, Louis could smell the peaches of his shampoo, fresh and sweet like always. He pressed a kiss into Harry’s shoulder.
“Did you talk to your mom,” Louis asked after a while. Under the blanket, Harry linked their hands and squeezed twice.
“Oh, you’re so worried!” he chuckled, but then he added, “But yeah, they’re great. Being spoiled rotten, probably.”
“I’m not!” Louis defended himself, but they both knew he was. “But it’s their first overnight weekend with them and they’re still so tiny.” He pouted a little, mainly to give Harry just a tiny bit of a bad conscience, but also because he felt like his worries were justified. Louis was just used to having his daughters with him, and as lovely as their day was, he did miss them.
When they took the twins home from the hospital, Harry had been so careful, so anxious about being too loud or jostling them too much. Louis had made fun of him relentlessly, teasing his caution with a fond smile. The first evening they stayed with their grandparents however, so that they could have a little date night, Louis was pacing the living room nervously. He was the one who was overly worried, checking his phone every few minutes when they had finally gone out for dinner, the first time in months.
When Harry then pointed out who the helicopter parent of them seemed to be, Louis only gave him an angry look over the dinner table. They laughed about it later that night, when Louis was laying on the couch, a baby girl in each of his arms, alternating kissing their foreheads.
“You’re such a dad,” Harry teased, but he rested his head against Louis’ shoulder, and it only felt affectionate and gentle.
“I know,” Louis laughed, “I can’t help it.”
Life changed with the arrival of their girls. Obviously, it did. Louis had always known Harry would be a good parent, caring and kind, understanding and loving. In Harry, he had always seen the qualities he’d cherished in a parent, had seen the potential of raising the most wonderful children. Not once did he doubt what an amazing parent Harry would be. Only his own abilities had made him afraid, scared if he could offer the girls what they needed. Scared to be a bad father.
Louis had always done great with kids, loved his younger cousins, or nieces and nephews with ferocity. He had also always known he wanted to be a father, more even wanted to be a dad. He had simply been afraid of not being enough.
The second he had held his little girls in his arms however, Harry’s chin hooked over his shoulder, hugging him from behind, all those doubts crumbled. Looking at them, with his husband, at their little family, Louis felt like there was nothing they couldn’t conquer. He’d conquer the world for his baby girls.
Tipping his head back to look at the sky, Louis smiled at the memory. They couldn’t look at the stars, like Louis knew Harry would love to, but the night still looked beautiful. Calm in a way, after the force of the storm had died down a little. It still felt a little like stargazing as they sat there, hand in hand, watching the heavy clouds pass by.
“Wanna go inside?” Harry lifted his head from his shoulder. “I can cook us some dinner.”
Even though it had gotten quite cold outside, and Louis was quite hungry, he didn’t want to go inside, not yet. He wanted to have just a little more time out there, in the quiet. Winding an arm around Harry, he pulled him closer into his side, resting his hand on the soft skin of his waist.
“Just a minute more,” he said and so they stayed.
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