little bitty rattle (and all our dreams are comin' true)

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/23806690.

Rating: Explicit
Archive Warning: Choose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Category: M/M
Fandom: One Direction (Band)
Relationship: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Character: Niall Horan, Zayn Malik, Liam Payne, Gemma Styles, Anne Cox, Jay
Tomlinson, Original Male Character(s), Original Styles-Tomlinson
Child(ren)
Additional Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha Louis Tomlinson, Omega Harry
Styles, Omega Zayn Malik, Alpha Niall Horan, Alpha Liam Payne,
Mpreg, Male Lactation, Pregnant Sex, Pregnant Harry Styles,
Hormones, Protective Louis Tomlinson, Pregnancy Kink
Series: Part 2 of SGASB 'verse
Stats: Published: 2020-04-23 Completed: 2020-07-09 Chapters: 8/8 Words:
71451

little bitty rattle (and all our dreams are comin' true)
by itsmiz

Summary

Louis and Harry are young mates in love. This is the story of them expanding their family,
and all the love, hormones, and events that come with that.

Notes

This is set directly after Sometimes Green and Sometimes Blue ends, and if you've read that
fic, this will probably make more sense, but since SGASB is a beast, I tried (**tried**) to
make this comprehensible as a standalone. It may not, though!
 Chapter 1

Nineteen and Twenty-One, July

It’s been one month since their ceremony and two weeks since their extended honeymoon ended,
and like he has been for the past two mornings, Harry’s curled up in bed, awake without wanting to
be, face twisted in discomfort. He feels a familiar soft hand on his shoulder blade, then the voice of
his mate: “Take the test.”

Harry blinks his heavy eyes. “Babe,” he groans, long and low. “Let me sleep.”

“You’ve been awake this whole time, Haz. C’mon, take the test.”

“I don’t have to pee right now.”

“That’s what the water’s for.” Louis’s got a small box in one hand and a bottle of water in the
other. He’s come prepared. Just like three days ago when he’d previously done this. Harry should
honestly be surprised it’s not a daily morning ritual by now.

“I’m not thirsty,” Harry complains, but his scratchy voice says otherwise. He sits up.

Louis opens the top of the water bottle and presses it to Harry’s lips. “Just drink, baby.”

Harry makes a face. “It smells.”

“It’s water,” Louis says. “It doesn’t have a smell.”

“It stinks,” Harry maintains, but he still takes a sip. He then rubs his eyes and shoves his messy
hair to the side. The water bottle is pressed to his mouth again, and he accepts it, but without
enthusiasm. Water dribbles down his chin and onto his lap.

“Harry.”

“I don’t feel good,” Harry mumbles, sliding off the bed and stretching. He starts walking in the
direction of the bathroom, and Louis follows him like a shadow.

“Because you’re pregnant.”

“I know, Louis.”

“Not until the test says yes, though. I can’t even smell it yet. There’s always a chance you’re not.”

“Don’t possibly see a way that could be,” Harry mutters. “We already went through this last week.”
He shoves down his pajamas and underwear before sitting down on the toilet and holding out his
hand. Still drowsy, his eyes are closed, but when he feels the light weight of the plastic stick in his
palm, he opens them. There’s a click as Louis pulls the cap off.

Because privacy isn’t really a word that exists between him and Louis and because he’s too tired to
protest anyway, he pushes his penis down and starts peeing, not commenting to Louis watching
him from his side. When he’s done, he puts the cap to the test back on, places it on the counter, and
stands up.

Louis looks at the toilet before Harry pulls up his undies and flushes it. “Harry, come on. You’re
dehydrated as hell.”
Harry groans again for no reason. “My stomach hurts, and I just woke up.”

“You need to drink more liquids,” Louis just says again.

“Opposed to drinking what?” Harry grumbles, poking Louis’ side. He’s done nothing but drink
excessive amounts of liquids for the past month, mainly water. They’d gone to South America for
their honeymoon, and not that Harry considers himself a big drinker or anything, but he hadn’t even
had any alcohol there at all; his mating ceremony was the last time he drank beer. He and Louis
both didn’t want to risk anything.

Harry goes to the sink and begins his morning routine of brushing his teeth, washing his face, and
shaving what little hair grows on his jawline and above his upper lip. When he sticks his toothbrush
in his mouth, he immediately gags, and he winces the entire time it takes to finish up.

"How long’s it supposed to take again?” he asks while splashing his face with water.

“Eight to ten minutes tops,” Louis automatically replies. He’s staring at the test with laser eyes, but
nothing’s changed; there’s still just one pink line there. If another one appears, there’s their
confirmation. They both know this. Louis looks over at Harry and stares for a little bit before
speaking. “Do you really feel like you are?”

Harry shrugs. Nods.

Louis steps closer to Harry and wraps an arm around his side. “It’d be so great if you were.”

“I don’t know,” Harry says, trying to joke as he holds his nauseous belly. It’s not even nauseous.
Nausea at least has an end to it. Nausea means throwing up and then relief. There is no relief with
this. It’s just...hurting. “Not if I feel like this the whole time.”

Next, Harry feels his fingers in his hair, and he purrs. He knows that he’s pregnant; he’s gotta be.
With how many times Louis knotted him during their vacation, there’s no way he shouldn’t be...
But there’s still that tiny little speck of doubt...

“It won’t last forever, baby,” Louis murmurs nicely. He pushes himself up on his toes and kisses
Harry’s temple.

Harry just wants this so bad.

“Easy--Just fuck and see if he can knot you,” Harry’s friend Will had suggested. “Alphas can’t
knot their mates after the pregnancy takes.” But Harry’s felt too sick lately to sleep with Louis
since coming back to the states, honestly, and he’s taken a pregnancy test every two days for a
week, anyway. Plus, he knows he’s pregnant despite what the previous tests have said. He just
knows it. It happened on his ceremony night. That’s what Harry’d like to think, anyway.

When Harry’s cleaned up, he finally turns away from the mirror and looks at Louis. While Harry
has been purposefully ignoring it, the disappointment from the previous negative results too much
in his mind’s forefront, Louis’s still been staring at the pregnancy test this entire time, and his face
is unreadable.

“Has it been ten minutes?” Harry whispers, not knowing why he’s whispering. “What’s it say?”

“Well, Hazza,” Louis whispers back, looking up at Harry with sparkly-blue eyes Harry will never
stop appreciating, “looks like we’re having a baby.”

Harry keeps his face still and takes a deep breath. He looks at Louis with steady eyes. “Are you
lying to me?”

Louis laughs. “No.”

“You’re not joking? You’re serious?”

“Yes.” Louis grins. “Dead serious. Come here and look. It’s only been a few minutes, too. You
must be giving off super-pregnant hormones all of a sudden now.”

“It says yes now? There’re two lines?”

Beaming now, Louis nods. “Yeah.”

With the first bit of energy he’s had all week, Harry skips to Louis, directly into his arms, and hops
up so Louis has to hold him under his ass to keep steady. As Louis takes a few steps to steady
himself, Harry buries his head into Louis’ neck and squeezes him.

“Harry, be gentle,” he chuckles. “You got a baby in there now.”

“Oh, my God, I can’t believe this,” Harry rushes out. “A baby. How are we gonna tell people?!”

Nineteen and Twenty-One, August

It’s very exciting in the days after Harry discovers he’s pregnant. It’s Louis constantly scent-
worshipping Harry, musing, “It’s our baby in there,” and “You smell so good" as the scent of Harry
growing life in him spreads out of him like it's a part of his aura or something. It’s them breaking
the news to their closest family and friends with tons of cheers and dropped-jaws and grinning
faces. It’s endless Pinterest boards of how they’ll decorate the nursery. It’s multiple apps
downloaded on Harry’s phone reflecting what food the baby is the size of right now. It’s some long
makeout sessions that lead to Louis dropping down to nuzzle at Harry's stomach. Some really good,
slow-passionate sex. It’s happy.

Even through the excitement, though, the fatigue hits Harry hard in no time, putting a little bit of a
damper on the fun newness of the discovery that he's expecting a baby. More than just being
sleepy, an exhaustion covers him so entirely that his days become close to impossible to get
through. Added to his all-day sickness, it’s rough.

Sometimes, he actually throws up. As in every single morning when he has to brush his teeth. As
in every single day at his now extremely-part-time job at the bakery when the sickly-sweet smells
of baked goods get to him too much and his stomach aches and aches and aches. He trudges along,
though, looking and feeling like shit, way too pale for the summer, hoping for the day to come
when he won’t physically feel so bad.

After weeks of not being able to cook or clean or even really make an effort with his appearance,
Harry honestly grows pretty miserable after a while, and he’s also pretty sure he’s losing weight,
not gaining it.

According to the dates they’ve given Louis’ mom, she says it’s still too early for Harry to have a
prenatal appointment with her. Louis still calls her over to the apartment on multiple occasions,
though, and she just reassures them both that Harry’s fine. Harry keeps hearing the same thing--eat
crackers, drink Ginger Ale--and all that does is make him more sick, especially smelling them
together. So he has to limit himself to two or three things that don’t get him sick: water, bananas,
and oatmeal. And it sucks. Louis tries to help out the best he can, but it still sucks.

Harry quits the music internship he'd started a few months back in good standing, hoping to work
there again in the future when he can. Maybe as an actual staffer. His boss, Ashley, has really
grown to like him, reminding him constantly he's like a brother to her, but she gets that he has to
quit. At first she tells him that he’s welcome to stay as a part of the team just with amended duties,
but since so much of his job would still involve lifting musical equipment and being around loud
music, it just wouldn’t be a good idea right now. They briefly side-hug on Harry's last day, and
because Ashley's a silly "tough as nails" Alpha, when Harry scents actual sadness come from her,
she dismisses herself and quickly throws herself into a made-up task instead of seeking more
comfort.

Harry sticks with his job of over four years, the bakery down the street. There's no way he could
quit, not when Barbara has put most of the managing responsibilities on him now that she's getting
older. Going there just for a few hours a day becomes enough to literally wear him out by the time
he gets home each afternoon, though. He lays on the couch every night just wishing for the
discomfort to end, and there seems to be no end in sight.

Luckily, since it’s summer, Louis can stay home with Harry for most of the day, making it at least
somewhat bearable without him being away on campus. Their routine becomes just lying on the
couch together watching television for hours. They manage to get through two seasons of some
new show in one weekend and then three entire seasons of another show the next. Before too long,
though, Harry ends up having to just stay in his bedroom. Laying on the couch is too close to the
kitchen, and even though Louis’s great and takes over all the cooking, Harry can’t handle the
smells. Even from the neighbors’ apartment across the hall, he can detect everything they eat for
every meal of the day, and he constantly feels ill. Even sex gets put on hold; Harry just doesn’t feel
into it.

The first visit to the omega center is one of the only things Harry looks forward to in the miserable
early days of his pregnancy, and when it’s finally time for his first appointment mid-August, his
excitement entirely trumps the fact that he’s still not feeling the best.

“So, prenatal care here is much less invasive than hospital-care would be,” Jay explains, and Harry
nods from the day-bed on which he’s sitting. He’s in an examination room set up like a bedroom.

“We’re also more thorough,” she goes on. “Each of our appointments takes about an hour on
average. But maybe shorter with you, Harry, since you’re family and I’m pretty familiar with
everything going on with you, anyway.” She winks. “But just know that everything is really
holistic here, and I want you to be able to talk to me about anything at all. I'm here to offer you all
the resources and help that'll make this experience a positive one."

Harry smiles. “Awesome. That’s just what I want.”

“Not too weird that I’m your mother-in-law?”

Harry shrugs goofily. “I guess you’ve seen it all before, right?”

She laughs. “That’s one way of putting it, yeah. And this is my grandbaby,” she indulges. “My
very first grandbaby. You know you’re going to get extra special treatment here.”

“So are you doing an ultrasound today or no?” Louis asks his mom from Harry’s side.

“I’d like to, or we could wait until the next appointment,” she explains. “Right now, based on the
dates you guys’ve given me, Baby’s just going to be a little blob. I’d like to measure how far along
you are, though, so that would be the point of the scan if we did it today. I’m pretty sure you’re
about seven or eight weeks, though. So--still really early along. Up to you if you want a sonogram
to take with you.”

Harry looks to Louis.

“I don’t know if it would change your mind, but the baby’s too small for me to see anything today
by scanning your belly,” she says. “It’d have to be inter-anal. Did you want to try that?”

Louis makes a face. He quickly schools it back to something normal when his mom looks at him
disapprovingly.

“What...exactly does that mean?” Harry asks.

Jay smiles and gestures to a totally not-scary looking device attached to the ultrasound machine.
It’s like a thin wand with a camera-like thing at the end. “We’d have to look at Baby with this thing
if we’re doing it today. It can wait until next month if you want, and then the baby can be seen if I
scan your tummy.” She gestures to a much better looking device on the machine. “I’d use this
instead on the bottom of your stomach.”

Harry considers his options. “Um. I mean, I kind of do want to do it today, yeah.”

Louis meets Harry’s eyes and smiles. “Yeah,” he agrees. “I want to see.”

Jay smiles largely. “Then let’s see my grandbaby,” she replies, and there’s excitement in her voice,
and then she gets the equipment ready as Harry moves to a little examination bed.

It’s so much better than the weird tables he’s used to being on at the doctor where he used to get
his birth control shots. It’s just a regular little bed with a twin-sized mattress on it, covered in a
purple sheet. Beside it is a big computer/machine thing on wheels, and Jay wheels it beside Harry
while he lays down, puts a blanket on his lap, and takes off his shorts and underwear. Soon after
that Jay’s reaching in between his legs to push the wand inside after a gentle warning, and
everyone’s staring at the computer screen.

“Gonna see our baby, Haz,” Louis revels, eyes never leaving the screen.

“Totally worth a dildo in the ass for,” Harry says, shocking both Louis and Jay. He realizes he’s
said it too late, and he clamps a hand on his mouth.

“Harry, Harry, Harry,” Jay just admonishes, and she goes back to work between his legs.

Harry shouldn’t worry, but he does. The moments where she’s searching for the baby are the
hardest. Then it’s there. She’s not really looking at anything, just moving the wand-thing around
with her hand until she finds what she’s looking for, but still, Harry tries very hard to not think that
this is Louis’ mom doing this until her hand finally stills.

“Wanna know what you’re looking at?” she asks. She moves the computer mouse and clicks on a
little black speck inside a white-looking oval space. “This is it. This is the baby.”

“That?”

Louis’ hand is on Harry’s then, and Harry links their fingers together.

“Tiny little thing, isn’t it?” Jay asks. She keeps staring at the screen, and the silence freaks Harry
out. She’s not saying anything reassuring.
“Does...everything look okay? Is it supposed to look like that?”

“Yes, yes, everything’s great,” she tells Harry soothingly. “No worries, Harry, no worries at all.
Just doing the measurements. So, I was pretty close. You seem to be eight weeks and two days
along.”

Jay prints out some pictures of the ultrasound on a long sheet of waxy paper, and Louis stares at
each picture while Harry gets his pants back on.

“Will we get pictures every time we have an appointment?”

“No,” Jay replies as she pushes the big machine to the side of the room again.

“Why not?” Louis asks.

Jay shrugs. “It’s not necessary.”

“Not necessary, my ass,” he says, cussing to his own mother and not even caring. “It’s my baby.”

“Your baby that your omega is carrying,” his mom corrects him. “Don’t forget that. Even though
you’re the Alpha, it’s Harry’s choice in how all of this goes. I know how you are, Louis, and I get
it. I know you want to make sure the baby is healthy, and that’s what the appointments are for. The
only other scan after this will be in about twelve more weeks.”

“That’s it? Why just two?” Louis asks.

“The first one’s just to determine exactly how far along he is, and the next is to make sure
everything is developing healthily. And to determine the sex, if you guys want.”

“But if you do an ultrasound each appointment, wouldn’t that be better?” Louis insists.

Jay stares at her son for a while and then turns to Harry. “If that’s what you want, Harry, then sure,
we can do that. I’m just simply saying it’s not necessary. I check the heartbeat every time you’re
here. I measure your stomach for abnormalities every time you’re here. If you’d like pictures each
time you’re here, too, then that’s fine.”

Harry nods. “Okay.” And that's that. Harry carefully places the sonogram photos in the bag hed
brought along. He's gonna take pictures of them to send to his mom and Gems, then probably Will
and Zayn.

Next, Jay checks the baby’s heartbeat with a little handheld machine with a speaker, and a fast
whoosh, whoosh, whoosh sound enters the room, like the baby’s racing. Harry swears he sees
Louis start to tear up.

Harry stares at his stomach after gazing at Louis for a long time. “And it’s okay that it’s fast like
that?”

Jay smiles, her eyes damp, too. “Everything is just like it should be.”

“Okay,” answers Harry. “Sorry if I’m being stupid. I just--”

Jay puts down the monitor, and Harry lowers his shirt. “Harry, it’s completely fine. But please
don’t worry. Everything is great. You’re doing great.”

Harry nods, smiling softly. “Thanks.”

“So how’s the sickness been?” Jay asks as she sits down on the mattress next to Harry.

Harry makes a face. “A little better. It’s still there, but it’s nothing like before. I’m just really tired
all the time. And my stomach feels weird sometimes in the morning, like I’m nauseous, but it
mostly goes away. Or I’m just getting better at dealing with it, I guess.”

“That’ll be because it’s empty after going all night without eating,” she explains. “You could
maybe have a snack on the table next to your bed and try eating a little of it with some water before
getting out of bed. That may help.”

Harry nods.

“And you’re taking your vitamins?”

“Yeah, but they make my stomach hurt, too.”

Jay smiles. “Try some that don’t have iron. Such a sensitive stomach you’ve got.”

“Tell me about it,” Louis chimes in. “He’s super picky.”

Harry drops his mouth. “Am not. And you’re one to talk. You have the palate of a toddler. Always
picking crap off your plate if it’s not, like, the same five foods you always consume.”

“Food aversions are totally normal right now,” Jay gives a meaningful look to Louis before looking
softly at Harry and saying. “It’s fine as long as you’re getting your vitamins because babies are like
little sponges. They’ll suck out all your nutrients for themselves. So take those vitamins! No need
to eat more, just make sure you’re still eating well.”

“Oh, spinach and strawberry smoothies every day, Mom,” Louis mumbles, sticking a finger in his
mouth to mime gagging. “Don’t you worry.”

Harry sticks out his tongue.

After that, Jay weighs Harry and discusses his medical history paperwork he’d filled out and
brought along. She asks if there’s any medical issues that run in his family.

“Jackassery by his father,” Louis quips, and Jay flashes her eyes.

“Louis William.”

“Was just a joke,” Louis explains, but he backs off at the look his mom gives him.

“I’m gonna suggest you both do some reading,” Jay says at the end of the appointment. She writes
down a few titles on a pad of paper and gives it to Harry. “Check out those books, or buy them if
you can. It’ll be helpful for both of you.”

Jay then grabs a few pamphlets in a basket next to the bed. “In the next few weeks, a lot of the
major formative growth will happen. Here are a few magazines and brochures to read about the
baby’s development. If you have any questions at all, though, you know you don’t have to wait
until our next appointment to ask me.”

Putting all the brochures in his bag, Harry nods and smiles gratefully. “Thanks so much. You’ve
been great.”

She smiles back. “I’m just so excited,” she says. “It’s such an honor, really, to be able to help my
own grandbaby come into the world. Have you considered birth options?”
Harry looks to the side, then to the other side. “Like…?”

“Like how you’d like your ideal birth to be. The location, a plan for it, anything like that.”

Harry meets Louis’ eyes. “Well, I’d really like to stay out of a hospital.”

“Definitely understandable,” Jay agrees, “unless it’s medically necessary. You’re a healthy young
omega, though. We have rooms here I can show you.”

“But does it have to be here, though?” Harry asks.

Jay shakes her head. “Of course not. You could even do it at home if you want, as long as
everything continues low-risk. That used to be really common, and it’s making a comeback, mainly
with omegas. Has a lot to do with the smells of home being really soothing compared to a cold and
sterile environment like a hospital. We do try to make it as homey as possible here, but there’ll still
be that foreign away-from-home feel. Just stuff for you to consider.”

Harry nods.

“You’d want to do it at home?” Louis asks him, hand on his shoulder.

“I...I think so, yeah. If you think about where I’d be most comfortable, then...that’d be it.”

“You two have got time to discuss your options,” Jay says, looking between the two of them. “So,
that’s it, unless you have any other questions?”

Harry shakes his head and gets off the table with unnecessary help from Louis.

“You should start feeling better by your next appointment,” Jay tells Harry after giving him and
Louis a hug. “You should regain some energy and not feel so achy. Take care of yourself, both of
you, and let me know if you need anything. Open invitation to dinners each Friday, too, don’t
forget!”

Harry smiles and walks to the car, but Louis doesn’t go with him yet; his mom tells him to stay
back for a minute to chat privately.

During the drive home, Louis surprisingly brings up Harry’s dad.

“Sorry for what I said,” he apologizes almost immediately after pulling out of the center’s parking
lot. His voice is quiet. “Shouldn’t’ve said that.”

“What, about him being a jackass?”

Louis nods.

“Well.” Harry opens his mouth and then closes it. His instincts tell him to defend his father, but the
hurt from the past is just too much. “It’s true.”

“Have you told him yet?” Louis asks, motioning to Harry’s stomach. There’s a lot of people they
still haven’t told since it’s so early, but most of their close friends and family are aware. Harry isn't
sure if he wants to do some type of special reveal or not, mainly because he doesn't want to bother
Louis with a photoshoot, but he really thinks Louis wouldn't mind.

“We don’t talk anymore, so no,” Harry just says. Louis holds his hand the rest of the drive home. It
means he drives with his left hand only, and it makes Harry happy.
Harry finds himself so exhausted just from that appointment that he takes a nap on the couch as
soon as he gets home, blanket covering him chin-to-toe, his cat Butters by his head and dog Bruce
curled up by his feet. When he wakes up again, it’s due to Louis barging through the front door
with a ton of grocery bags in his hands.

“Oh, shit,” Louis looks ahead and cusses as Harry stirs. “Didn’t mean to be so loud.”

Harry stretches but can’t talk yet, so he just waves Louis’ concern off. He needs to wake up,
anyway.

“I got you those almonds that you like,” Louis says as he realizes Harry’s decided to sit up and not
go back to sleep. “The ones they’ve been out of the last few times we’ve gone.”

“Aw, babe, thanks,” Harry scratchily says, standing up. He walks the few steps into the kitchen to
see Louis unloading two cartons of eighteen-count eggs. He raises an eyebrow.

“Eggs have a ton of protein, you know, so it’s good for you two. We could scramble them, fry
them, boil them, all types of stuff. As long as the smell won’t make you sick." Louis continues
pulling things out of the bags. “And here’s the whole-grain bread you like. I thought maybe you
could put that hummus you like on it? But if not, I got lots of veggies you normally dip in that stuff.
Asparagus, ‘cause I know you like to bake it, then all your fresh fruit for your smoothies…”

Harry wipes his sleepy eyes and walks behind Louis as Louis keeps unloading the bags. He puts his
chin on Louis’ shoulder and, breathing deep, presses a kiss to his bond-mark. He smells good. It’s
nice.

It’s nice until it’s extremely overwhelming.

A wave of overwhelmingly tender hormones assaults Harry so suddenly he feels like crying. His
Alpha is the best Alpha. He has the best, strongest, most able Alpha to be the father of his kids.
Louis cares about Harry, and he cares about their baby, and he doesn’t like cooking whatsoever,
but he’s been cooking for them for weeks, and he’s gone to the grocery store to buy Harry kale
even though he’d made a joke to his mom about how weird Harry was for liking it, and he is the
fucking best.

Louis could impregnate Harry as many times as Louis wanted to, and Harry would just let him.
He’d gladly give over nine months of his body being his own to have the biggest family possible
with Louis. He’d go through all the nausea and fatigue again and again. All of this, ten times over.
He just loves him so much.

To keep himself from outright sobbing and scaring Louis, Harry snuffs around under Louis’ ear
with his nose until Louis finally starts laughing and turns around, and he puts his hands on Harry’s
hips and kisses him and kisses him and kisses him again.
 Chapter 2

Nineteen and Twenty-One, September

After his professor dismisses the class for the day, Louis immediately pulls out his phone to check
for messages from Harry.

Louis’ friends might say it’s funny how whipped he is for Harry, how utterly fucking gone for his
mate he is, how devoted he has been to this omega since childhood. His friends might say that if
they wanted a fist to their jaw. So they don’t.

It’s not funny, not in the least. Not even if Calvin wants to curl up his lip and say it’s just amusing
seeing you like this, that’s all, or whatever-the-fuck. It’s not. It’s what Louis’s always wanted.

He’d be happy just simply mated to Harry; all the rest is a giant, extra perk. The actual mating
cermony they’d had. The fact that Harry has his last name now. They both have claiming marks on
their necks. Rings on their fingers. Just another source of dual-ownership, Louis thinks, smiling
serenely to himself as he packs up his laptop and textbooks, texting Harry with his free hand.

Louis’s always been proud to say that he’s never been an ultra-conservative Alpha. He’s not
controlling, he’s not dictating, he doesn’t place punishment or shit on Harry like other Alphas
sometimes do with their omegas. What they have together is a partnership, a friendship and a bond
that’s ridiculously deep, and Louis being an Alpha doesn’t make him any better than Harry, just
like Harry being an omega doesn’t make him any less than Louis. Harry’s amazing. He’s growing
life inside him, a new life, a baby they’ve created together, and it’s what Louis’s dreamed of
forever.

Knowing that he’d gotten Harry pregnant makes Louis feel a thousand feet tall and made of steel.
They're mated, and they’re having a freaking baby together.

Still. Despite there being an overwhelming happiness to Harry being pregnant, Louis can’t stop the
nagging feeling of underlying worry--like a fear, a fear that won’t go away. He wants to be able to
keep any harm from happening to Harry and their unborn child at whatever cost. This pregnancy
has been so fucking hard on him so far, and Louis just wants his mate and his child okay and
healthy.

Even though Louis’s not controlling, his natural instincts still have to come out somehow. It’s
really just boiled down to telling Harry to check in with him throughout his day, asking for a text
when he’s leaving the house or whatever. That way Louis’ll always know where he is if any type
of emergency were to happen. It’s a simple rule; these are normal Alpha things. The obsessive
amount Louis ruminates over them, however, is not. And he knows it.

Louis stops texting about halfway through a line of typos to just call Harry instead.

Harry answers the phone goofily. “Hellllllo?”

"Hey, Haz,” Louis says, smile in his voice. “You home yet?" He hears commotion in the
background signaling that he’s not.

“Wrappin’ things up now. Think I’ll be another half-hour tops.”

Louis walks out of the building where a majority of his classes are now housed and makes his way
to the parking lot. “I’m gonna swing by the apartment and drop off lunch. What are you in the
mood for?”

“Lou, you--”

“What are you in the mood for?” Louis interrupts.

“Um.” It’s quiet for a bit. “Chicken?”

“I can work with chicken. Chicken what? Chicken nuggets, chicken sandwich? Chicken strips?
What?”

“Surprise me.”

“But no, not if it’ll be something that’ll make you sick. What sounds best?”

“Nuggets.”

“I’ll get you a Happy Meal,” Louis decides, and he grins at the child-like noise Harry makes in
response. This is the person carrying his baby, and he’s so in love with him.

The days eventually get easier for Harry.

It’s not like one morning he springs out of bed with a bunch of energy or anything, but he can tell
it’s different when he brushes his teeth one morning and doesn’t immediately throw up.

Time passes, and Harry can cook again. He can clean again. He can still move around without
aches and pains. Everyone says the hard part comes later--the time when he gets huge and
stretched-out and achy. For now, though, he’s golden. He’s...he’s enjoying this pregnancy thing.

Then comes the excitement again. The energy. The restless feeling of wanting to get things done.
Happy visits to his mom and Robin's apartment. Long talks with Gemma on the phone. Good days
working at the bakery.

The Pinterest boards start to fill up. Harry and Louis start shopping together, start making a baby
registry even though it’s way too early for that. Harry finally responds optimistically to unanswered
texts from Will that the worst part of the sickness seems to be over.

“You don’t even look pregnant,” Will tells him when they finally get to meet up and go out for
lunch.

“Lou’s mom says I have a long torso,” Harry explains with a mouth full of salad, “so I won’t show
for awhile.”

“Stomach won’t get in the way of mating, then,” Will jokes, and Harry tries to laugh.

“Yeah,” he just quietly agrees.

While it’s true that not being so sick has resulted in his desire for sex coming back after being gone
for what’s felt like forever, there’s one side effect Harry’s recently discovered, and it honestly may
be worse than the morning sickness and the fatigue combined. There’s no way he’s bringing it up
to Will, though. Or to Louis’ mom. Or even to Louis himself. It’s something he never expected
whatsoever--never would even think to expect--and that is his body’s sudden inability to produce
regular slick anymore. Not like he used to be able to.

It’s weird.

A few days before, Harry’d recently discovered it by fluke, actually, when he was in bed with
Louis after a long day of Louis being away in class. They were just cuddling and making out for
the first time in forever, and he’d known from the tug he’d gotten in his stomach when Louis did
something nice with his tongue that he’d be leaking into his boxers soon, but the feeling never
came. While in the middle of kissing Louis, he’d even embarrasingly checked so he could visibly
sneak a peek at his fingers, but nope...nothing. Nothing of substance, at least. Nothing like his usual
slick that would easily coat his fingertips.

He ended up just jerking Louis off after that, reverting to his ongoing nausea as an excuse for
continuously not being in the mood for anything more. And the night after that, when the same
thing had happened, Harry’d jerked Louis off again, but he’d gone down on him first to get him
wet and slicked up with spit. And it was fine, because his nausea has basically gone away, plus
Harry loves making Louis happy, any way he can.

It’s just...he somehow can't self-lubricate anymore, so he won’t be able to make Louis happy by
actually mating now.

Harry guesses it makes sense. Biologically, if Louis can’t knot anymore because his pheromones
know Harry’s already pregnant, it’s perfectly logical why Harry can’t get slick anymore for the
same reason. The online forums he goes to don’t really tell him anything helpful, just that sex while
pregnant is fine, but he already knows that; he and Louis mated the night that they found out, and
they did it a bunch more after that, before the freight-train fatigue hit him. Nothing he researches
tells him any information about his specific situation, and his online searches have ranged from
pregnancy slick to omega pregnancy symptoms to omega sex while pregnant. All he really
succeeded in learning from those searches was that there’s an entire world of pregnancy-related
porn with such vidid pictures and stories that Harry had to quickly click out of the browser entirely
before Louis caught him.

Harry’s never imagined having this issue, and it’s fucking embarrassing. He’s nineteen years old,
and if he and Louis were to mate again now that Harry’s been feeling better, they’d probably have
to use lube like Betas.

He doesn’t say any of this to Will during their lunch, and he doesn’t ask Will for any of his possible
experiences with it either, despite knowing Will would be open to sharing just about anything. It’s
just too awkward.

It’s ironic. When he was younger, Harry used to get embarrassed for getting wet in the first place.
Now he’s embarrassed for not being able to. And Will’s right--he doesn’t even look pregnant right
now, not really. He’s just about three months along, and it’s unnoticeable.

Having gotten himself a bit self-righteously sad, Harry lets himself eat a little too much at the
restaurant with Will, happy that in doing so his stomach swells out, but for some reason, by the
time he gets home, the fact that his stomach is just swollen only because he’s full of food depresses
him all over again. His feelings don’t make sense.

When Louis slides his hand into the waistband of Harry’s underwear that night in bed, Harry does
something he’s never done before, and he jerks away.

Louis slides his hand back up to the safe-space of Harry’s side and kisses his neck. “Hey, you
okay?”

“Fine, yeah.” Harry relaxes the slightest bit into Louis’ hold and nods. He knows Louis’s probably
a little annoyed that they haven’t had sex in so long, but Harry just doesn’t think he can right now.
And Louis’s being so great to him, not even bringing it up, which makes Harry feel worse. “Little
bit of a headache, that’s all.”

Harry feels the warmth of Louis’ hand spread throughout his abdomen. “Sorry this has been so
rough on you, babe.”

Harry gives Louis a tiny smile. “It’s okay. It’s worth it.”

“You’re right,” Louis agrees, hand now resting still and protective over Harry’s stomach, “but still.
Wish I could make the pain go away.”

In the next instant, Louis rolls out of bed and gets him Tylenol without Harry even asking, and
Harry can’t find it in him to be amused at how Will would call Louis “a trained Alpha”. It’s the
first time he’s ever faked a headache to get out of sex, and he kind of hates himself for it.

Nineteen and Twenty-One, October

Louis' paranoia builds every pregressing day of Harry’s pregnancy once the first trimester is over,
but he does his best to keep all the stressful shit tucked inside. He doesn’t think it’d do anybody
any good to voice how afraid he is that something might go wrong.

Harry chooses a fall-themed pregnancy reveal theme, because it’s October so of course he does.
The Alpha mate of one of Louis’ omega coworkers is into photography, so in mid-October, they
meet up with her and drive an hour out of town to the country for a photoshoot. She takes pictures
of them mostly in the middle of some type of field, but there are a few photos taken by trees since
the leaves that haven’t fallen already are changing colors and look nice. They’ve brought pumpkins
along, too--two that are medium-sized along with a miniature one--and inside the empty barn that’s
off to the side of whatever property they’re on, they sit on some steps with the pumpkins by their
feet and kiss while camera clicks go off.

When they get their pictures the next week, Harry cries when he looks at them. The one where
they’re on the stairs inside the barn, Louis standing on a step behind Harry holding his stomach,
really gets to him. His coworker’s mate had made it black and white and all artsy-looking. The one
with the pumpkins by their feet looks good, too: Harry and Louis kissing in the background is out-
of-focus, and the image of the pumpkins by their feet and what it implies is sharp.

Louis’s beaming in the pictures, because of course he is; Harry’s having his baby. As he goes
through each and every one, though, he can’t help remembering how anxious he was that day. His
coworker’s mate--some Alpha he can’t remember the name of now, sadly--had touched Harry too
much that day, guiding him in certain poses. The whole entire time Louis literally just thought, stop
touching my mate stop touching my mate stop touching my mate. He’s glad it’s not noticeable in
any of the photos.

He sort of blames his mother and uncle for how much he’s worrying lately, honestly. Growing up
hearing all his mother’s midwife stories or his uncle’s emergency room stories from the
hospital...Louis’ mind is geared to think of the worst-case scenario when Harry so much as
complains about a headache.

And he’s been doing that a lot lately.

More and more, Harry’ll say his head hurts. And even though everything Louis’s read has said that
Tylenol is safe, after the second headache, Harry stops taking medicine entirely, saying that he’d
rather that the pregnancy be as natural as possible. And Louis agrees, so that’s when he rubs
Harry’s temple and scratches Harry’s hair. Sometimes it’s Harry’s legs that hurt, so Louis makes
sure to massage them, and sometimes he says it’s his nausea, so Louis rubs his belly until he falls
asleep. Only after that does he allow himself to sneak into the living room to do his homework on
his laptop, homework that’s already been piling up from all five of his classes this semester. When
he’s done, he normally climbs back into bed to see Harry open-mouthed and snoring gently, and
the sight makes him peaceful yet hungry at the same time.

It’s not that Louis’s tracking it. It’s not that he’s tracking it whatsoever, but Harry and Louis
haven’t mated in a long, long time.

Louis misses it.

He really can’t complain, though, and again--it’s not like he’s tracking it. It’s just something that’s
noticeable. Going from many times a week to just once a week to not-at-all-in-multiple weeks, it’s
noticeable.

Harry’s morning sickness had been horrible in the early days, seriously just awful--awful for Harry,
clearly, and awful for Louis to witness and not be able to assist with--and Louis knows it’s still
rough for him here and there. (For instance, last weekend, he was eating his regular breakfast of
oatmeal and fruit in the kitchen and had to make a mad-dash for the bathroom. Louis had barely
had time to look up from his own bowl of cereal before he heard the tell-tale sound of gagging and
liquid splashing into the toilet.) Clearly, feeling sick or having bodyaches or headaches would
make Harry not want to have sex.

What it doesn’t explain, however, is why Harry has started secretly masturbating.

The scent of it is so vague it’s almost unnoticeable at first, but Louis picks up on it, anyway. In the
shower. Harry’s cum. At least twice now.

Louis fights with his own head for an entire week, pushing down the emasculating thoughts that
keep entering, the questions about why Harry has been feeling the need to do that and attempting to
hide it with spray rather than seeking out Louis himself. And worse, why he’s been turning down
Louis’ advances when he tries to touch him. After almost four entire weeks of no sex, though, or at
least no penetrative sex, Louis addresses it.

While cuddling and watching television in bed like usual on one of the first cold nights of the
season, Louis shifts a bit behind Harry, nose pressed to his neck, hand splayed out on his stomach.
“You know sex won’t hurt the baby, right?”

Harry’s totally silent for the longest time. “Yeah. I know.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Louis settles back in their prior position and keeps watching television. “So just. Like, when you’re
feeling better. Or when you want it again.” He clears his throat. “You can let me know, yeah? You
can come to me for anything you need.”

“Okay. Yeah, I know, Lou.” His voice is soft.

“I’m just saying. Like. Not pressing it, it’s fine. I just want to make you feel good.”

Harry nods next to Louis, and Louis just keeps trailing his hand up and down his belly, imaginging
he can feel the little guy. Or girl. Their baby. Must be a self-conscious thing, Louis thinks.
Probably Harry’s changing body keeping him from wanting to be naked in front of Louis. Unless
he’s still feeling shitty and just doesn’t want to mate. But that doesn’t explain why he has been
touching himself with Louis not around… Maybe it’s just at night where he doesn’t feel that good.
He’s probably exhausted by this time.

“Or maybe if you don’t feel up for sex and just feel like jerking off or something, we could do it
together, or I could hold you while you do it, if you’d want that, or--”

The tips of Harry’s ears get beet red, visible even in the dim light of the room.

“What?” Louis asks curiously. The stifling-hot embarrassment coming from Harry just builds,
though, so Louis drops it. It’s so bizarre.

“I love you like this, you know that, yeah?” Louis whispers, moving his hand that’s been trailing
along Harry’s torso back to the front, over the tiniest little swell there. Louis thinks of the day
when he’ll do this and feel a kick. “You’re beautiful. And when you’re feeling better, just--
whatever you want to do. I just want you to know I want you. Always.”

Then Harry’s scent settles into something happier, so Louis’ll take it.

Harry doesn’t stay that happy for long. By the morning he’s acting weird again, almost moody
when he gets out the shower. And Louis gets it, he does. He understands omega’s mood swings
quite well, having lived with Austin during his multiple pregnancies. He gets that it’s hard for
Harry, and he’s not gonna, like, judge him for not feeling good, but it’s just--Louis’s trying here.

He’s trying. And maybe it’s hard on him, too.

It’s not that Louis needs sex. It’s fine; he’ll live. But what he does need, though, is to make Harry
happy. And he’s getting the feeling he’s fucking up somehow.

After Louis showers alone and gets ready for class, he walks out the bedroom and finds Harry in
the kitchen eating oatmeal. Louis kisses him before telling him a simple thing: “Drive safe to work
and text me when you get there,” and that’s all. It’s no different than any other morning, but
Harry’s still moody and closed-off and smells wrong, and then Louis’s tense on his way out the
door to class. It’s enough to make him walk right back into the kitchen to scent him.

He noses at Harry’s scent-gland and presses a few kisses atop his mark. Their next kiss goodbye is
better, but Harry keeps his gaze averted.

Louis holds Harry’s jaw to make him look at him. “Hey.”

Harry’s eyes widen, and his eyebrows rise.

“Talk to me.”

Harry schools his face into something resembling confusion.

“What’s going on?”

Harry shakes his head. “Nothing.”

“You feeling sick?”

“Not really. I’m fine.”

Louis sighs and lets go of Harry’s chin. “Alright, then. Text me if you need anything. I'll see you
tonight.”

He feels weird, but he kisses Harry once more, and impulsively, he bends down and kisses his
stomach, too. When he walks out the door and looks back over his shoulder, Harry’s finally smiling
a real smile. Louis returns it.

After class, Louis procrastinates on a PowerPoint presentation he really needs to get started on in
order to go chill with Calvin. He’s been pushing the project back enough as it is, but he doesn’t
want to deal with anything school-related right now, and he sort of owes Calvin and his little
family a visit after not seeing them in weeks.

When he gets to Calvin’s apartment, though, only Calvin’s there. He lets Louis inside and
immediately turns on his Playstation, tossing Louis a remote.

“Where’s Will and the baby?”

Cal looks at Louis strangely. “Out with your mate…”

“Seriously?” Louis just looks at Calvin and asks. He gets his phone out, worried, and then sees the
message from way earlier that he’d somehow missed: got off work early, duck pond with will and
timmy, then going to moms for dinner

Louis’ quick to reply. you dont want to eat at home w me??

? last night you said you had the theater dinner thing for the new staff at the Grand

Shit. Louis had totally forgotten about that. He has no idea how he’d forgotten about it, it being
quite a large event at his theater, but...fuck.

Louis texts Harry back and pockets his phone, sighing.

Cal smirks at whatever look is on Louis’ face. “What’d you do?”

“Nothing.”

“Can’t bullshit a bullshitter.”

“I don’t even know,” Louis honestly tells him, a little agitated. He and Harry are fine, they are, but
could they be better? Probably. But then again, maybe it’s the bond making Louis question
everything. Maybe there’s something true about...what is it that the pregnancy book he’s been
reading had called it? Sympathy hormones or something? “Said something he didn’t like this
morning, I guess. I don’t know what else it could be. Something about him being careful driving to
work or something. When I literally say that every day to him.”

Buttons on the controller click as Calvin mindlessly stares ahead and makes his soldier go into an
empty building. “That sucks.”

“Probably the way I said it,” Louis comments, “who knows.”

Calvin laughs dumbly. “Will did all that, too, when he was pregnant with Timmy. Like he was
punishing me for wanting to protect our baby.”

“Right?” Louis asks, nodding. “Thank you. That’s how it feels sometimes.”

“Omegas,” Calvin mumbles.

Louis quirks a smile. It quickly leaves his face. Harry’s out at a duck pond with Will, and he hadn’t
even asked Louis if he wanted to go. Louis’s never fucking liked duck ponds and for all Harry
knew, Louis could probably still be on campus, so why he cares about this is stupid, but he wants
Harry to fucking want him, wants Harry to want to do things with him. But it’s dumb! They live
together, they’re bond-mates, Harry’s pregnant with his child, and they sleep next to one another
every single night and kiss and hold each other and do shit together constantly.

But Louis doesn’t get what he’s doing wrong lately. Is he even doing anything wrong at all? Is it
all in his head? He just fucking hates this. Doesn’t know how to make Harry happy right now. Not
having sex with him shouldn’t affect so much else, but sadly, it does. He misses Harry. He misses
feeling wanted by him. The recent handjobs are nice, but not if they’re just a means to an end. He
guesses he’s getting more affected by Harry recently masturbating without him, after all.

“Hey,” Louis says nonchalantly after a long, drawn-out battle scene that makes Louis feel a little
better. “Did you and Will still mate while he was pregnant?”

“Yeah...”

“Right,” Louis says, shaking his head at himself because of course he and Will still mated during
that time because it was a period of nine whole months, “but I mean, like did you hook up the same
amount as before, or…”

Calvin makes a face as he tries to remember. “Sort of the same. Maybe not exactly as much,
especially at the end there. And I had to be more careful than normal.” He shrugs.

“How long was the longest you’d go?”

“Without?”

Cal shrugs again. “A week, I guess. Something like that.”

Louis keeps his face even.

“What?” Calvin asks, staring ahead at the screen. “Havin’ problems?”

“No,” Louis lies. “Just curious.”

“Yeah, right,” Cal comments. “I will say this, though. It did take a lot more to get Will in the
mood.”

Louis glances over. “More time or more…”

“More time. More...effort. Then eventually one day it was all good. In the beginning there, though,
not so much. I forgot about that until just now.”

That settles Louis, but only somewhat. After Calvin pauses the game to go get snacks, he comes
back with a bag of chips and hits the back of Louis’ head.

“What is with you, dude?”

Louis punches Calvin’s arm, but not hard. “Nothing, man, just tired.”

“What’s up your ass, though? You look pissy.”

“Just not sleepin’ well.”

Calvin smirks. “Wait ‘til the baby’s here.”

“Yeah,” Louis says quietly.

Once the game’s been paused forever and they’re just either on their phones or eating snacks
quietly, Louis finally says something else to Calvin. “I’ve been having these real fucked up dreams
lately,” he admits. “Keepin’ me up at night. Dreams where Harry’s gone when I come home, and I
can’t find him, can’t get him to pick up his phone. Then I’m immediately rushing through these
hospital doors--these same two hospital doors. It’s all white after that.”

Calvin puts down his phone. “Jesus, Louis.”

“Yeah.” Louis tries not to shudder. “Pretty shitty, huh?”

“Yeah. You’re in your own head too much again. Cut that shit out.”

“Not that easy. I can’t relax.” Louis settles back on the couch and closes his eyes, rubbing them a
little.

“Look, man, I get it, I do, but Harry’s fine. You guys are healthy people. Well, you need to stop
with the cigarettes, but Harry’s healthy. Chill out.”

Louis just shakes his head. “You know that feeling before your rut, when you feel like...I dunno,
like locking out the world to be with your mate, but really you just get broody and shit? That’s how
I’m starting to get. It’s gettin’ a little out of hand.”

Calvin nods a little, and Louis looks at him wordlessly, knowing that if Cal were to reply, his
advice again would just be to “cut that shit out”.

After that, it’s silent. Louis wants to laugh a bit, thinking about how, if this were a few years ago,
he and Calvin would be sitting here together getting high. Now Calvin’s a dad, and Louis’s got one
on the way.

Calvin knocks Louis out of his thoughts. “Gonna get Will pregnant again soon, I think.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. He’s itchin’ for another. Be nice to have an Alpha.”

“Yeah,” Louis just agrees. He honestly doesn’t care either way. Just as long as the baby’s healthy,
as long as Harry’s healthy. His thoughts travel again to Harry, wondering what he’s fucking doing
wrong with all of this. He knows he worries too much and it probably does come across as
controlling, maybe, but Louis’s away a majority of the time, and they have so many neighbors.
There’s a lack of privacy. There are potential threats from all sides of where they live. Harry must
understand that. Louis’s being no different to Harry than he’d be if, like, he knew Harry was due a
heat or something.

This isn’t just a heat. This is their child.

After leaving Calvin’s, Louis goes home to quickly change into a suit, then drives into the city and
calls Harry on his way to the Grand Capitol Theater. They talk for a bit, and it’s polite. It’s not
them.

“You back home now?” Louis asks.

“Yeah,” Harry answers. “Just feedin’ the kids.”

Louis chuckles. He likes the sound of that sentence even if Harry’s just referring to their cat and
dog. “Have a good time with Will?”

“Yeah,” Harry says again. “Timothy is getting really big. He’s talking so much now. So it was fun.
But they went through, like, an entire loaf of bread, and I told them that feeding that stuff to ducks
isn’t good for them. So I hope that they’re okay.”

“Isn’t good for who? The ducks?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re not the only ones who give ducks bread, babe. It’ll be alright.”

“Yeah.”

“Your mom and Robin doin’ good?”

“Yep.” Harry’s quiet for a bit. “They said to tell you hi. You at work yet?”

“Almost.” Louis sighs. There’s gonna be a lot of schmoozing at this dinner for his company’s new
production team, and he’s honestly not in the mood. He just wants to get home to Harry.

“So, I’ll, uh, leave you to it, then,” Louis finally says after beeping at someone who cuts him off.
“Want me to bring you back leftovers?”

“Nah. I’m pretty stuffed. Mom made this soup she used to make for me when I was little. Ate, like,
the entire pot.” Harry’s voice is quiet. “Prob’ly will be asleep by the time you get here, anyway.”

“You alright?”

“Yeah, kinda tired,” he answers, and Louis has no reason to not believe him, but still. He takes a
deep breath.

“I’m sorry for earlier.” He doesn’t really know what he’s saying sorry for.

“What d’you mean? You didn’t do anything to apologize for,” Harry says curiously.

But Louis feels like he has. “Love you,” he just murmurs. “Get some sleep, baby.”

“All I do is sleep,” Harry mumbles, yawning. “Love you, too,” he says a second later.

“Growing a baby is hard work,” Louis tells him. “And you’re doing so great. So go lay down. Text
me if you need anything.”

When Louis gets to work, he throws himself full-force into his duties at the theater: helping his
supervisor remember where things are, mainly, since he’s so flighty. Brilliant, but flighty. The
night doesn’t even end up being too bad; it’s actually pretty informal, and Louis has fun getting to
know the actors and actresses he’ll be working with for the next six months or so.

There’s a smell in the air when Louis finally gets home and takes a few steps inside his apartment,
an all-at-once satisfyingly familiar yet distant smell. Louis steadies himself for a moment before
acting. It’s quiet and dark, so Louis carefully kicks off his shoes, drops his jacket, and starts
walking. Louis keeps walking, and he pushes his bedroom door open a little, and then he promptly
freezes.
The bedroom is dark, but Louis can still see clearly from the sliver of light from underneath the
bathroom door. Harry’s eyes are closed, and he’s laying on his side, almost completely still. He’s
got the tips of two fingers in his mouth, either to keep himself quiet or to suck on them. Under the
blanket, his other hand is moving, and though Louis can’t make it out exactly, the rhythm alone
makes it clear what Harry’s doing.

And Louis doesn’t know what to think about it.

He stares at Harry for a few more seconds.

He can’t be mad about this, and he’s not. He’s known that Harry’s been doing this. The feeling is
more...disappointment. That he’s not giving this to Harry himself. But the past few times Louis
tried to initiate things, Harry'd frozen up. His body language had told Louis to not proceed. He
hadn’t even wanted to talk about it.

Within a moment, when the dog notices Louis and lifts his head from the floor by the bed, Harry’s
eyes dart open, and his hand under the blanket stills. He quickly removes the hand from his mouth,
and even though the flush of his face isn’t visible, Louis can smell his humiliation. Clearly he
wanted to do this before Louis got home.

Louis stands resolutely still, trying not to breathe. He doesn’t know if it’s the right thing to say, but
he says it anyway: “Tell me to go away, and I will.”

Harry makes a noise, almost like a gasp.

“Tell me you don’t want me right now, and I’ll go. I’ll--I’ll shut the door and go. Whatever you
want.”

Harry breathes quicker, but he doesn’t answer. Louis’ hands are clenched, his body tight.

“Harry. I want you so bad right now.” He doesn’t think it’s possible for him to sound more clearly
awake and raw than he already is. Even after a night of bad sleep, even after an early-morning start
on campus, even after a production event in the city. “Tell me you don’t want me.”

Finally making a tiny desperate noise, Harry meets Louis’ eyes and just bares his neck, and thank
God.

“Thank God.”

Louis breathes out the breath he’s been holding, crosses the room in three strides, and within
seconds, he’s on the bed, on top of the blanket and on top of Harry. He lowers his face to Harry’s
neck, and, careful of his weight, begins wholeheartedly scenting him. He rubs his chin over
Harry’s jaw, his neck, his cheek, then he pushes down the covers from Harry’s upper body and he
starts licking the exposed skin above Harry’s collarbone all the way up the side of his neck.

It’s--it’s a lot, and he may be being overbearing, but Harry’s gripping him, too, and they’re giving
each other beard-burn from their stubble by scenting one another so vigorously all of a sudden, and
it’s good. It’s so good. Then they’re kissing, and Louis’s smiling, and Louis’s fucking thrilled that
Harry’s mouth is open and yielding, so he takes back the taste he’s missed so long. Harry still
smells familiar but different, and Louis can’t place it, guesses it must be the changes in his body.
And that’s okay, that’s great. He needs to re-familiarize himself with all of it. The way Harry’s
kissing him back, though--that’s already familiar. God, Louis’s missed this. They’ve kissed pretty
often recently, but not like this. Not with this type of yearning.

Louis fixates himself on plumping Harry’s bottom lip, drawing it out and making it tender with
little nibbles only to soothe it again with swipes of his tongue. It’s a reclaiming, and Louis can’t
stop his body from slowly grinding into the sheets atop Harry. It turns into a gentle rhythm the two
of them make together, their clothes and the down-comforter in between them causing a certain
heady friction almost instantly.

“Is this okay?” Louis asks.

Harry nods. “It’s nice,” he whispers.

“Just rocking?”

Harry nods again.

“Can I--” Louis scrabbles for the blanket, trying to shove it away. It’s keeping him from being able
to really feel Harry, and he doesn’t want to hurt him by not being able to really see what he’s
pressing against. “Let me get under here with you.”

When Louis lifts the comforter, he finds Harry underneath dressed in boxers and a loose t-shirt.
Louis notices the way the fabric of his shirt protrudes outwards just a little and grins at Harry
brightly.

“God,” he just says, then settles back in between Harry’s legs and wetly kisses him once more.
There’s a tingling warmth that travels in his veins, lighting him up.

As their molten grind starts again, Louis’ fingers roam, touch-hungry, but they mainly caress
Harry’s stomach. It’s just a bump, that’s all it is. It’s not much, but it’s enough. It’s soft but firm
somehow, a nice little growing pouch. It’s enough to make Louis officially as hard as he can get.
He matches his dick with Harry’s and starts panting into his mouth as they brush against one
another.

When Louis’ hands stop worshipping Harry’s stomach and explore out, it’s to lightly stroke Harry's
legs that’ve wrapped around his waist. He’s on an up-stroke of Harry’s right thigh when he lets his
hand creep into Harry’s boxers from the side, and he reaches back and grabs a handful of ass
before pressing just the ghost of a touch to Harry’s rim.

Harry’s not that slick yet, but it’s alright. Louis thinks about what Cal had said. It takes longer for
pregnant omegas to get in the mood. Maybe Harry doesn’t even want penetration. He’d said that
just this--the rocking together--is nice.

Louis trails his hand back down Harry’s thigh, gripping his leg, pulling Harry more into him. “Can
I take your shirt off?”

Harry nods, and after Louis helps him tug the shirt over his head, he rests back on the pillows and
looks up at Louis. His tattoos are noticeably stretched a little. Louis stares at them, smiling.

In the next instant, Louis bypasses Harry’s mouth entirely to dip down and kiss his nipple, and he
can’t help it--his other hand goes to cup the swell of his stomach again. He caresses around, up
Harry’s side and to his other nipple, then back down and around his belly button where he traces
little figure-eights while licking his nipple. Harry’s got his hands on Louis’ head, fingers squeezing
his hair, and when Louis tries to move to the other nipple, Harry’s grip is so tight it almost
prevents Louis from being able to at all.

“Feel good?”

Harry nods. He’s being abnormally quiet.

“What d’you want, babe?”

“What do you want?” Harry asks instead of answering.

It’s a little strange hearing Harry this shy, like Louis’s not seen everything there is to see of him
before. It’s endearing. “Anything. Everything. Wanna taste you.”

Harry looks away for a split-second then nods, and Louis leans down and kisses him. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Louis trails down Harry’s body, placing little kisses everywhere he passes, mostly on his tummy.
When he reaches Harry’s groin, he takes one last look up at Harry, covers his shoulders with the
blanket, and lowers his mouth to Harry’s clothed cock. He undoes his belt and unzips his dress
pants while staring up at Harry, and he slides them off and kicks them until they’re tangled in the
bedsheets somewhere.

He draws everything out with his mouth, just breathing on Harry and teasing him from the outside,
but he slides off Harry’s boxers when he starts twitching, silently asking for more. After that, it’s
only more slow, drawn-out actions as Louis purposefully does everything he can to make it good.
He licks him slowly, he sucks him slowly, he touches him lightly. Everything is soft.

It’s when Louis lowers his hand underneath Harry’s balls that Harry finally says something. Louis’
fingertip at Harry’s entrance is just a tease of pressure, nothing more, but it causes Harry to clench
up.

He gasps. “Louis.”

Louis peeks up at Harry, circling Harry’s rim with the same finger, and he feels Harry relax. Using
a bit more pressure, Louis presses forward with his fingertip, and he raises his eyebrows at Harry
questioningly until Harry closes his eyes, a look on his face Louis can’t place. Louis hopes
everything’s alright.

“Good?”

When Harry nods, Louis presses his finger barely inside, the heat surrounding it so, so welcome
and so, so missed. Harry’d been doing this to himself, Louis realizes, as he sticks another finger in
along with the first and starts suckling on the head of Harry’s dick again. It’s so hot to think of,
Harry fingering himself. Not being able to wait. Louis doesn’t know how he’ll even fucking last
through the next few minutes of this.

“Why didn’t you just ask me, baby?” Louis quietly asks as he gets in to the first knuckle of both
fingers, though he doesn’t even know if Harry can hear him. He kisses Harry’s cockhead. “I coulda
been doin’ this all along. Any time you want, baby, God.”

He thinks he hears Harry say “stop,” and he chuckles at Harry’s shyness in admitting he’d been
caught masturbating. He begins pumping his fingers in and out, a slick little drag. “Seriously, baby.
So hot, though. You touching yourself.”

Then hands are in Louis’ hair. “Louis, really, wait. Stop.”

Louis freezes and looks up. Harry’s face is--shit, it’s all fucked up in discomfort. He doesn’t like
this. Louis slides out his fingers and removes his hand entirely from the area. “Oh, God, did I hurt
you?”
Harry quickly shakes his head. From his sudden heartbeat and his face, he’s on the verge of
panicking.

“Are you o--Hey, what is it? Too much?”

Louis’s already climbed back up the bed next to Harry’s side, but Harry’s not even looking at him.
“I’m not even--God, this is embarassing.”

Louis frames Harry’s face with his hands and kisses his cheek. “Baby, no, no, what is it?”

Harry loudly swallows.

“Haz, hey, it’s okay, I wasn’t, like, making fun of you or anything, seriously, it’s fine. You don’t--
We don’t even have to--”

“It’s artificial slick.”

Louis shuts his mouth. “Huh?”

Wordlessly, Harry stretches out to his side of the bed and opens the top drawer of his nightstand.
It’s a weird angle, so he ends up reaching inside and tossing something on the bed with no
particular aim. Louis stretches, too, in order to pick it up. It’s a little red tube. Louis just turns it
around in the palm of his hand, confused.

“I--I--What you’re feeling down there is...it’s this. It’s not even me.”

“Oh.” Louis looks down Harry’s torso. It takes him a minute to piece together what Harry’s even
telling him, but then the vague smell in the room makes sense. “That’s okay,” he reassures,
immediately meshing himself to Harry’s side again. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay,” Harry argues, almost in tears. “Nothing about this is okay. It’s--it’s wrong. I’m
wrong. It’s going to feel horrible for you.”

“Harry, baby, no, it won’t. It’s okay,” Louis softly tells him. He has a vague smile on his face that
he tries to keep from Harry, because if this is the reason Harry’s been acting the way he has, then
Louis can deal with that. Louis can so deal with that. It’s fine. As long as Harry still wants Louis,
that’s what matters. “It’ll be the same. Same for me, and same for you.”

Harry remains quiet. Under the arousal that Louis had been buliding up is shame. Louis’s gotta fix
it.

“Is this why you’ve been…? But Haz, really, if you’re upset, we don’t even have to--”

“I just feel fucking stupid. Can’t even get wet for you.” Harry’s voice is like gravel, so completely
low.

“No, baby, you’re perfect,” Louis tells him. He wonders if they were even good orgasms Harry’s
been having. Louis reaches for the bottle again. It’s almost completely full, but it’s clear that it’s
been used before. “Does it feel good with this stuff? It’s good for you?”

Harry shrugs. “It’s fine, but...Not the same. I’m defective.” He tries to laugh.

“No,” Louis says with finality. “Don’t say stuff like that, Harry. You’re perfect.”

Harry’s quiet.
“You’re perfect, babe,” Louis repeats, nuzzling against Harry’s bond-spot to calm him down. Harry
sighs, turning his head to expose his neck more to Louis. Yeah, Louis thinks.

“Haz, c’mon, you miss it, yeah?” Louis asks, not in a sleazy way to coerce Harry or something, but
more in a way to get him to admit it. He kisses his neck and feels Harry nod. “Yeah, you miss
something inside,” Louis says, turning his voice almost into a purr for Harry’s sake. “I’m right
here, babe. It’s okay. I’m right here, and I want you so bad, you have no idea. Wanna give it to you
so good...”

Harry shakes his head. “But there’s something wrong with me.”

“No, there’s not,” Louis firmly replies. “There’s nothing wrong. Me myself, I can’t knot, so--”

“But most omegas get even wetter for their mates when they’re pregnant,” Harry interrupts.

“I don’t see how it’d even be possible for you to get wetter than you normally do, seein’ how you,
like, regularly flood the bed when you’re not pregnant.”

Harry lightly pushes Louis’ shoulder, and Louis grins, finally glad that Harry’s smiling.

“See? This is a good thing. Less mess.”

“Louis, shut up,” Harry says, but he’s quietly giggling.

Louis situates himself back atop Harry, back in between his legs. Smiling, he kisses Harry slowly,
then purposefully until Harry finally wraps his legs around Louis’ waist again.

“You’re my mate,” Louis quietly tells him, scenting him again all over his neck. He’s mindful of
his body weight. “I love you. Especially like this. I want you. All the time.”

Harry lets out the prettiest noise, prompting Louis to cover his mouth with his again. Louis lets out
a little moan into Harry’s mouth as he once more starts trailing a hand down Harry’s body, his
other keeping himself propped up. “Can I touch you again?”

Harry nods and pulls on the collar of Louis’ button-up shirt. “But take this off already. And the
underwear."

Smiling, Louis sits up and undresses the rest of the way. He sits on his haunches with Harry’s legs
still spread atop his upper thighs then reaches out for the little plastic bottle next to Harry, opens it,
and drips liquid onto his fingers. He flits his eyes up to Harry’s briefly before possessively
reaching out for his balls, lifting them up against the base of his dick to better expose his hole. Two
fingers of his free hand move to press against Harry’s rim, and he circles them there before
pressing both inside at once.

He’s slow with it, stopping multiple times to add more lube to his fingers and stretch Harry out as if
he’s prepping him for a knot he won’t even get. It’s worth it to make Harry comfortable, to hear the
little sighs that mean he’s relaxing into this, the soft sounds of pleasure that mean he’s enjoying it.

Harry’s hands absentmindedly trail over his stomach and chest, and Louis’ breath quickens as he
watches. He doesn’t have much control over his own fingers anymore, twisting them any which
way inside Harry’s heat, because Harry’s touching his belly, his pregnant belly, and playing with
his nipples, nipples that’ll feed their baby some day, and--fuck, he’s a fucking marvel to look at,
cheeks rosy already and kiss-swollen mouth slack. Louis’s missed this so much. He just--he wants.

Louis pulls his slick fingers out of Harry and opens the lube again to coat himself. He uses too
much, and it drips all over the sheets, but their sex is always messy, so it doesn’t matter. He jacks
his cock a few times before lining up and pressing in, and he and Harry both groan long and low
the second he breeches the ring of muscle.

“So good,” Louis has to say, because Harry has to know. There’s no way they’ll ever have bad sex.

It’s quiet and intimate as Louis starts gently moving, still on his knees with Harry’s legs around his
waist. Louis holds onto Harry’s thighs as he slides inside, then retreats, then slides in even more,
but soon his hands start traveling, touching Harry’s tattoos, worshipping his skin as he finally
bottoms out and starts thrusting.

“Come down here,” Harry breathes out after a while, reaching his arms out.

Louis stays inside Harry while he adjusts himself. Normally he’d stay in position on his knees and
just fold Harry’s legs up to his shoulders as he leaned down to kiss him, but he won’t do that now.
Instead, he straightens his legs out and places a hand on either side of Harry’s face. Harry wraps his
legs more firmly around Harry’s back, and Louis starts moving again, his abs straining to keep
himself from going too quickly.

“Good?”

Bottom lip bit inside his mouth, Harry nods, then Louis starts fucking him.

He’s fucking him, but it’s long and slow and languid, mouth open and panting wet at his neck, one
hand low and possessive on his stomach. His teeth drop on instinct when a scent enters his nose,
because that smell, that’s Harry’s slick.

“Fuck, yeah,” Louis groans. He feels Harry’s hands roam over his back, over his gently pumping
ass, and Louis bites over Harry’s bond-mark.

“Lou,” Harry urgently whispers. “Lou, kiss me.”

It’s nothing for Louis to move his mouth over Harry’s jaw, his cheek, his lips. It’s easy and
uncoordinated, and Louis’ dominating teeth clank against Harry’s, but neither of them care.

“Were you thinkin’ of this when you were touchin’ yourself?” Louis asks before kissing Harry
again, another sloppy, sipping kiss.

“Thought of you,” Harry says, his fingers all in Louis’ hair now. Louis kisses him again, longer,
tongue going out to claim Harry’s, to swallow Harry’s little noises of pleasure, to use his
lenghtened canines to nip at Harry’s plump lips.

“Say you’re mine.”

Harry’s wet now, and the smell is in the air. Louis strains to maintain his careful movements, to
keep his upper body off Harry’s torso. Harry throws his head back and whines.

“Harry, baby, tell me you’re mine,” Louis pants. “Tell me you’re mine, say you--say you want
this.”

After turning his head to the side to show off his neck better, Harry nods. “I’m yours, ‘course I’m
yours.”

Louis’ mouth covers Harry’s bond-mark again. He sucks hard enough to pull blood to the surface.
“Say you want it.”
“Want it,” Harry replies obeyingly. “Feels good, Lou...”

Louis’s getting winded, muscles burning with the effort to keep himself from laying flat on Harry,
hip flexors burning. “Haz--Haz, say you want me.”

Understanding crosses Harry’s face when he meets Louis’ frantic eyes. He presses his hand to
Louis’ cheek, body being jolted by Louis’ thrusts. His voice is breathy when he says, “I want you.
All the time. Want you. It never stops.”

Louis turns his face to mouth at Harry’s fingers.

“So much.”

Louis licks at Harry’s fingers, at his hand. He meets Harry’s lust-blown eyes with the tip of one
finger in his mouth. “Look so good. So fucking good. Feel so good around me. Smell so good.”

Harry bites his bottom lip and grabs a handful of Louis’ ass in both hands, pulling him in deeper.
“Go harder, Lou.”

Louis lets out an embarrassing whimpering sound.

“‘S okay. C’mon. Let go, babe,” Harry tells him, ”go harder. I’m so close--this is so good--”

Louis drops himself to his elbows beside Harry’s face, breathing in his air and Harry breathing in
his.

“You’re the best Alpha, mine, and you--you’re so much. I want you all the time, Lou. You’re--
Louis, all the time.”

Louis’s gonna fucking come. He knows Harry feels weird talking like this sometimes, and him
doing it right now is pressing all of Louis’ buttons, is really fucking doing it for Louis, reasuring
him that he’s strong and wanted and is making Harry feel good.

In reward, Louis’ thrusts get harder, rocking their bodies up the bed. It’s frenzied for a bit as
Harry’s nails bite deep into Louis’ shoulders, and they both get progressively louder until Harry
ultimately throws his head back, face twisted up as his noises stop.

Harry shakes and comes quietly, thighs quivering around Louis’ hips. Louis fucks into him a few
more times before his body seizes up, too, and he buries his face into Harry’s shoulder and groans
while he pulses and empties himself inside. He lets out a string of curses, long and deep, right into
Harry’s skin. Nothing’s vulgar, though; Louis’s pretty sure he’s just repeating different variations
of fucking beautiful, fucking hot, fucking perfect, fuck.

A good thing about not knotting is that Louis can roll off Harry immediately and not squish him.
Without either of them even coming down from their orgasm yet, Louis withdraws from Harry’s
body and heavily slumps himself off to the side.

Breathing heavy and quick, he immediately slides his body to Harry’s side and puts a hand on
Harry’s stomach. It’s splattered with his cum, and Louis rubs it all over the warm and soft and
smooth skin. Inside is his kid, his baby.

“Jesus,” Harry just says, voice raw. He reaches out for his shirt from earlier and wipes himself off.

Everything smells so good in the bed. The sheets are dirty but smell so nice. In exhaustion, Louis
reaches out for the forgotten blanket from earlier and covers them with it. They should shower, but
they probably won’t. They should change the sheets, but they definitely won’t.

Louis’ hand goes back to Harry’s stomach as both of their breathing evens out, and soon, Harry’s
hand covers Louis’. Their mutual awareness is pretty much solely centered on the bump, together
feeling warm, and content, and happy again.
 Chapter 3

Nineteen and Twenty-One, November

“Can’t wait to meet you. Less than five months now. It’s already been four months, can you
believe it? You’re four-womb-months old.”

Harry wakes up slowly, consciousness drowsily coming to him as he shakes off remnants of the
dream he was just having. Even though his first trimester fatigue is long-gone, Louis has been big
on urging him to take afternoon naps recently, and Harry can’t say they aren’t needed. The holidays
are always a hectic time, and just preparing for them is enough to tire Harry out. There’s something
extremely gratifying, too--now even more than normal--about being wrapped up in all the sheets in
his bed, surrounded by everything that smells like him and Louis. Their combined scent.

Louis’s whispering so low Harry has to strain to hear.

“Daddy loves you, did you know? Yeah, that’s silly, of course you know. I already love you so
much. You made your Papa super sick at first, but it’s okay. It’s not your fault. We still love you
so, so much.”

Fully awake now, Harry keeps his eyes closed to just lay there and listen to Louis speak to his
stomach in a hushed voice. He’s not even talking to Harry’s stomach but rather, the blanketed area
that Harry’s stomach is behind. He wonders if Louis even napped with him at all or if he spent this
whole time in the middle of the bed talking to this pile of sheets near Harry’s belly.

“You gonna have your Papa’s long legs so you can play soccer with me one day? Or are you gonna
be short like me?”

Harry wants to argue at that because Louis’s not even that short, but he doesn’t want to give away
that he’s awake yet.

“You might like to sing like your Papa, who knows. Did you know your Daddy can sing, too?
‘Cause I can. Not bad at it. But your Papa has the prettiest voice. I’ll sing to you one day, though,
whatever you wanna hear. Your Papa can write a song, and we can sing it together for you. How’s
that sound? You like that? Yeah? I bet you do.”

Harry remains quiet as he smiles and blinks open his eyes.

“You’re gonna be great at whatever you do. Know why? ‘Cause you’re you. And you’re perfect.
Aren’t you?”

Audibly groaning with a stretch, Harry gives away that he’s no longer sleeping, and Louis looks up
at him and smiles. “Good nap?”

Harry nods and rubs his eyes.

“Good.” Louis crawls up the bed and kisses Harry, cradling his face in two sure, firm hands.
“Hungry? Thirsty? Need anything?”

After pecking Louis again on the mouth, Harry shakes his head. “Fine.”

“Well, I’ll pack snacks for you just in case.” He looks beyond Harry to the clock on the nightstand.
“We’ll have to leave in about an hour, you might get hungry by then.”
For the next hour, Harry lets Louis dote on him while he lays in bed and talks on the phone with
his mom. It’s nice. The way Louis keeps touching him, especially his belly...holding him as he
talks on the phone...Harry adores it.

When they get to the omega center, they make happy small-talk with Louis’ mom before Harry
lays back on the bed and lifts his shirt. Jay squirts clear gel on the swell of Harry’s belly and starts
smoothing it out with the ultrasound wand, and as she does so, Harry stares at his stomach.

At four months along now, Harry’s stomach clearly isn’t flat anymore. He’s noticeably pregnant,
and he’s thrilled that his belly has finally decided to pop out enough that in public, he sees people’s
eyes dart downwards when he walks past.

He’s officially wearing new clothes now. A whole new wardrobe, actually. Louis has gone
completely overboard on all of Harry’s pregnancy clothes ever since he started remotely showing,
insisting on buying him so much shit he’ll have enough for, like, three more pregnancies. He
guesses that’s actually the goal here--maybe--and the thought makes him fuzzy inside.

“So, if Baby cooperates, I can tell you what you’re having today,” Jay informs Harry and Louis, “if
you’re still interested.”

“Heck, yes, we’re still interested,” Harry says from the bed, eyes now on the little screen where he
smiles upon seeing his baby. Each time is familiar yet different and so, so exciting.

Louis’s standing next to Harry holding his hand. “Can’t wait.”

Jay smiles. “I was the same way with you and all your siblings.”

Then she’s quiet while she studies the images on the device. Harry and Louis watch in awe.

From the beginning, Harry’s had a feeling that he’s having a daughter, even went so far as to tell
Louis he’s sure it’s a girl, but then he had a random dream of holding a boy recently, so...he
honestly doesn’t know anymore. He can’t wait to find out.

“Aw, it looks like you, Louis,” Jay says. “Look at that tiny little nose.”

Hearing Louis laugh quietly, Harry keeps staring. And staring. Anticipating. Louis’ thumb strokes
the back of his hand.

Jay, picking up on Harry’s anxiousness, gently soothes Harry the entire process, too, naming
everything she’s looking at from the hands to the arms to the legs and then the cute little feet.
Sometimes it’s hard for Harry to see what he’s looking at, so he’s happy for the play-by-play as she
presses around. Sometimes she presses into his stomach a little firmly since she has to in order to
see, and when she does, the baby actually moves. Now it’s got its hand by its face.

“God, that’s so adorable, babe,” Louis murmurs. “Look.”

Harry nods. Inside, he can feel the baby’s movements sometimes--little flutters, nothing much yet.
He always likes those sensations and has been waiting for them to get strong enough for Louis to
feel, too. They ground him, make him feel that, even though he can’t see the baby yet, that it’s in
there, growing healthily, moving around.

“Everything looks great, Harry, you don’t have to worry,” Jay smiles and tells him as she keeps
clicking little pictures. “Just measuring everything.”

Harry nods, still staring at the screen.

“And…Down here between the legs. There are...no boy parts. So...Baby Tomlinson is female.”

“A girl,” Louis whispers, eyes wide. “You were right, Haz.”

Immediately, Harry lifts his head up to Louis, and Louis leans down to kiss him. “A little girl,”
Harry repeats. All his teeth show, he’s smiling so big.

“A daughter,” Louis comments, breathless. “We’re having a daughter.” He kisses Harry again. The
stubble from his face tickles Harry; he hasn’t shaved in over a week, and he’s getting a beard.
“Can’t wait to find out the gender now.”

“Not ‘til birth,” Harry and Jay say at the same time.

“Yeah, I know,” Louis quickly straightens up and says. “I know how it works. I was just saying.”

Harry gently pinches Louis’ thigh. “Yeah, yeah.”

“Ow,” Louis says, sticking his tongue out. “We gonna do some big sex-reveal thing now?”

“No, I’ve always thought those were weird. And Gemma would never let me hear the end of it,
having a party celebrating genitals,” Harry mutters, lowering his shirt and looking at all the new
sonogram photos Jay hands over to him. He holds one up, grinning. “Is this her butt?”

Jay laughs. “Yeah. Her left leg and left arm are right there and right there, see?”

Harry stares in awe. This is inside him. He never thinks he’ll be able to get over it. He keeps
carting through the images, mainly loving the ones Jay had gotten of her face. Her. They’re gonna
have to settle on a name now. And paint the nursery.

Louis’s got class the rest of the day and then theater work in the city after that, so after the
appointment, Harry’s left to fend for himself alone the rest of the day. Harry knows that Louis
hates it but relents to leaving Harry since they text constantly, anyway, and he says he feels better
that at least Bruce is at the apartment with him as some sort of protection. (Bruce would never bite
anyone.)

Harry feels good. Really good. He’s feeling really, really great for once, and after calling his mom
again and about five other people to share the news that he’s having a daughter, he uses the burst
of energy he gets to clean the entire apartment room-by-room. Everything except the nursery. Or--
the room that will eventually be the nursery. Currently, there’s nothing in there that even suggests
he and Louis are going to have a baby, and even though everyone has been reassuring Harry by
saying that there’s no rush yet and that babies don’t even sleep in their own room for months,
Harry still feels a little anxious about the fact that there are still desks in there, still laptops in there.
The crib they’d chosen is still in its original box in the closet. Louis doesn’t really feel the same
urgency that Harry does to get it all ready just yet.

So, Harry does some yoga. Breathes in deeply, whooshes all the stress away. Bruce won’t leave
him alone when he’s on his mat, but it’s okay. He just gets lots of doggy-kisses. Harry takes
pictures while in his yoga gear, the tight clothes nicely accentuating his round little belly. He
mainly does it for all the reactions it gets out of Louis, and every time he texts Louis a new picture,
Louis sends back hearts.

Everything is put away and candles are burning when Louis comes home that evening, and when
he walks in, he’s wearing Harry’s favorite suit. Harry immediately walks over to greet him, and so
does Bruce, wagging his tail violently.
Mm. Louis’s such a strong Alpha. So dedicated to working and providing for his family. Harry’s
hormones might be tilting more towards “I’m horny do-me-now” compared to the floaty happiness
of earlier, but. Well. Harry’s picked a good mate. He hopes Louis’s impressed at everything
Harry's been able to get done while he’s been away. The entire apartment is clean for the first time
in forever, and there’s dinner hot and ready on the table, and after Harry kisses Louis, he looks at
him with hopeful expectation. Maybe they’ll be reckless and just do it on the couch tonight.

Louis spends time touching Harry’s belly, and when he finally looks around, though, he’s got a
look on his face. “What’s different in here?”

Harry’s expectant face falls. “Huh?”

Louis scrutinizes the living room. “Something's changed.”

“I’ve just been cleaning,” Harry says. He gestures around the room happily. “There’s been so much
clutter everywhere, but, you know, I feel better now so I picked up. Everything’s clean again.”

“Yeah, but...that little table. It used to be...there. And now it’s...there.”

“Oh,” Harry comments, happy that Louis’s finally picked up on his decorations. He never really
comments much. “Yeah, I thought it looked better with the two of them on each side of the couch
instead of--”

Louis tosses his keys on the chair beside him and loosens his tie. “Who’s been here today?”

Harry’s vague smile drops again. “What d’you mean?”

“Has somebody been here today?” Louis repeats, now kicking off his shoes.

“No,” Harry asks, confused. “What are you talking about?”

“Well, I know you wouldn't be moving furniture on your own, you know, being five months
pregnant. So who else was here today?”

“Four months.”

“Almost five.”

“I just pushed it,” Harry brushes off, rolling his eyes. “I had to clean under it, anyway.”

“You had to clean under what?” Louis asks. He looks at the end-table. “That?”

“Yeah,” Harry answers hesitantly. “I vacuumed...There was all types of animal hair...But then I
thought the table would look better over there by the couch. So I just pushed it there.”

“What the hell are you doing moving furniture, Harry? You’re not even supposed to lift more than
ten pounds, and--”

“Says who? I lift more than ten pounds all the time, Lou.”

“Since when?!” Louis snaps, and Harry recoils a little at the tone in his voice. He’s not used to that,
and he’s not expecting it.

“Since always,” Harry retorts. “I mean...jeez. A couple bags of groceries are more than ten pounds.
It’s not gonna kill me.”
“I--Haz. I seriously can’t believe you right now. We just find out we’re having a daughter, and then
you go and--what? Rearrange the house?” Louis walks down the short hall into the bedroom. He’s
in the bathroom when Harry finally starts following after him, and he’s already stripped down to
just his boxers and a white t-shirt now. He starts brushing his teeth with force.

“Are you...are you honestly this angry at me?” Harry asks.

“Yes,” Louis answers with a mouthful of toothpaste. He spits in the sink. “I love you, you know I
do, but--yes. I wish you would’ve just waited.”

Harry looks at the floor. “I just wanted to clean the place up. I thought you’d be happy after having
it look like a pig-sty for months. I’m finally feeling better--like, really normal again, and happy
after this morning’s appointment, and I wanted to clean. That’s it. That’s all.”

Louis sighs. “Babe, I get that, but I don’t understand why you couldn’t just wait until I got home to
move it? If you had to clean under it so bad, I could’ve moved it for you. If you wanted the table
someplace else, I could’ve moved it for you. That’s my job. Use me.”

“But you’re busy all day, and when you come home you...I mean, it’s your time to relax. I don’t
wanna ask you to do stuff around here when I’m here most of the day and can do it myself.”

Harry doesn’t want to bring up the nursery because he feels like he’s done that enough in the past
few weeks, but the last time he’d asked Louis to help him out in there, he’d said he’d get to it when
he got a break in the semester, and...well. It’s not even been cleared out yet.

“I wouldn’t mind,” Louis insists. He sighs in a way that makes Harry feel shame. “You know I
wouldn’t. It’s just a table. Not that hard for me to do.”

“It’s not hard for me, either,” Harry argues petulantly.

“It’s not only you I’m worried about here, so stop thinking I’m babying you. It’s our actual baby
I’m concerned about, too.”

Louis looks at Harry’s growing stomach, and suddenly Harry’s shoulders are shaking as he cries.
“If I thought it was dangerous, then I wouldn’t have done it.” Harry looks to the ground again. “It
wasn’t heavy. I promise.”

Louis sighs again, steps forward, and wraps his arms around Harry. He lowers a hand and places it
on the swell of Harry’s belly. “Harry...”

“I’m sorry,” Harry sobs. Quickly, with Louis’ help, he breathes himself into a sense of calm.

“It’s alright, Haz. Don’t cry, it’s okay. Just. Don’t do it again,” Louis tells him. He wraps his arms
around Harry, but Harry’s stomach isn’t flat, so it’s not quite the same. Harry nods at him.
“Swear?” he presses.

Harry quickly nods again, and Louis wipes the tears off his face. It looks like there are a thousand
worries in Louis’ eyes, but he doesn’t say anything for the longest time.

“I’m not trying to guilt-trip you here, but I...I just.” He sighs. “You know I trust you. I do. But I
don’t want you to push yourself past your limits. You’re growing a baby, and you’re doing a really
fucking amazing job, and I...want you to be careful.”

Harry nods. He doesn’t want to worry Louis. He wasn’t even thinking of that, honestly.
“Need,” Louis corrects. “I need you to be careful.”

“I am,” Harry whispers. “I will.”

Louis tightly nods. He holds Harry until his eyes are clear again. “Please ask me next time. That’s
what I’m here for.”

“To move furniture?” Harry tries to joke, and Louis smiles. Feeling better, Harry leans down and
kisses Louis, and it’s good again. “I made dinner if you’re hungry.”

Louis just kisses Harry again. “What didn’t you do today?” he jokes, and finally, Harry laughs. He
takes Louis’ hand and leads him to the kitchen.

Even though Harry’d said he didn’t want to do some big sex-reveal thing for the baby, Louis still
knows how important it is to share the excitement with his friends. That’s why, even though
Harry’s already posted the information that they’re having a baby girl online to share with people,
Louis still plans a surprise party for Harry.

It’s the end of November now, and all the fuss from Thanksgiving has died down. Everyone’s
mostly on Fall Break from college, making it a good time for Louis to not be too bogged down with
assignments and a good time to get Harry’s friends who are back in town all together again.

Their apartment isn’t large enough for the amount of people Louis invites, but it’s the easiest way
to surprise Harry, and he figures they’d all be the most comfortable there, anyway. When Harry
gets home from work on the last Saturday of the month, he’s greeted by his mom, Gemma, and
Robin, the entirety of the football team that is Louis’ family, and his friends Niall, Zayn, and Will.
Louis had tried to invite more people, but for various reasons, they weren’t able to come, but it’s
okay; Louis will make sure Harry’s baby shower is killer.

Harry’s face is simply cherubic as he walks inside, still in his apron, and witnesses all the guests
and balloons and streamers everywhere.

“What’s all this for?” he looks around and asks, beaming.

“A...Congratulations-on-Having-a-Female-Baby Party?” Gemma asks, stepping forward and

hugging Harry. “I wouldn’t let them get pink balloons, so you get rainbow ones instead. Thought
you’d like.”

“I love,” Harry corrects, hands clasped together under his chin as he still looks around at
everything and everyone. He gasps when he sees Niall and Zayn, and he walks to them and hugs
both of them at the same time. Louis’ feet move forward of their own accord when Niall touches
Harry’s back, but he forces himself to stand still; Niall’s not a threat.

Niall’s not a threat.

“Hey, man.” Zayn grins. “You’re huge.”

Louis watches Harry roll his eyes, and he steps aside to start mingling with other people to let
Harry catch up with Niall and Zayn, both of whom he hasn’t seen since the summer.
Louis doesn’t stray out-of-earshot from Harry. He still can’t help but think Niall’s standing too
close to him, but Louis has to keep telling himself to let it slide. Louis’s pretty sure Niall’s mates
with Zayn--or something like it, at least, from the stories that Harry tells him that he honestly can’t
keep up with. All he knows is that they’re not actually bonded. Or at least not yet.

Anyway, Niall, as an Alpha, naturally just makes Louis a bit on edge even though he’s one of
Harry’s most trusted friends. Something that also puts Louis on alert is that from the moment he
takes off his apron, Harry has three sets of hands on his stomach, like, at all times. Mostly from
Louis’ little sisters, but still.

“Does she kick yet?” Phoebe asks.

“A little bit. Not a lot, but she moves in there.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, totally,” Harry says. He’s got a huge smile on his face, and Louis can feel through the bond
how satisfied he is with all the attention. Louis’s proud.

“What is she doin’ now?” Daisy asks, hand on the top of Harry’s stomach. “Is she sleepin’?”

“She might be,” Harry answers.

“Yes,” Louis answers directly afterwards, coming to stand next to Harry after briefly catching up
with Harry’s mom and Robin. “So shh.”

“But I wanna feel her kick!”

“After I eat, she’ll kick,” Harry promises.

So they eat.

Everyone’s standing or sitting around various areas and surfaces of the kitchen, dining room, and
living room as they eat and drink. Harry’s mom and Louis’ mom made most of the food, and
Louis’d stocked up on a bunch of snacks.

“I was in charge of plates and cups,” Will explains over all the boisterous noise suddenly
everywhere (Louis’ family is so massive and loud, honestly), gesturing to the “Happy 1st
Birthday” plate he’s eating off of, “but I kinda dropped the ball and forgot. Sorry, Harry.”

Harry holds up his plate. It’s got colorful leaves all over it, clearly left over from Thanksgiving.
“Eclectic. I like it.”

Will laughs. “Of course you do. I brought some from Fourth of July, too. You can use one of those
for seconds.”

Harry rubs his stomach. “Don’t know if I can fit seconds in here. Gettin’ a little cramped in there.”

“Hey, if I put this on your stomach, could you balance it?” Zayn asks, holding out his paper cup
and pretending to put it on Harry’s stomach.

Making a face, Harry replies, “I’m not even that big yet, Zayn, jeez!”

“I’m just sayin’, last time I saw you, you were, like--”

“Not pregnant at all?”

Niall laughs. That’s when Louis steps over a little closer to Harry. “You’ve been standing up this
whole time,” he reminds him. “You should probably sit for a little.”

“‘Kay,” Harry easily agrees.

With Harry sitting down on the couch, Louis relaxes a bit more and lets himself walk around the
apartment and actually eat. His sisters flock to Harry again in order to see if the baby’s kicking yet
since Harry’s just eaten--no luck. When Louis comes back to Harry’s side, Will has replaced the
spot previously taken by all of Louis’ sisters, and he and Harry are apparently talking about their
children being older.

“I dunno,” Harry’s saying to Will. “Fifteen, I guess.”

Will makes a face. “FIfteen? I think maybe fourteen.”

Harry shrugs. “Maybe a little too young. Fifteen is a good age to go out and do something together
with a potential mate. Like a date to the movies or something.”

“Eighteen would be even better,” Louis comes back with, sitting next to Harry. Louis’s now on his
right, and Will’s on his left. “Or twenty. Or maybe thirty?”

Harry swats at him.

“I think we’re gonna start tryin’ for another soon,” Will says to Harry, and he gasps. Louis takes a
sip of soda.

Harry tucks his hair behind his ears and settles back into the couch, hands going to his stomach.
“That’s awesome, Will. Do it soon so we can be pregnant together.”

Will smiles. “As soon as we can, man. Two’s gonna be crazy.”

Louis gestures around the apartment. “Eh, it’ll all be good. We got--how many siblings do I have
here?--I dunno, something like five or six? I don’t even know. It’s loud as hell with so many, but
it’s doable.”

“Yeah, it’s crazy, but that’s family,” Harry looks at Louis and agrees, smiling. He then turns back
to Will. “You shoulda brought Timmy. He and the little twins could’ve met. They’d be so cute
playing together.”

“Next time, promise,” Will says. “Just kinda wanted to get out on my own for once. It’s nice to get
away.”

Niall takes a seat on the floor in front of the couch, Zayn quickly following suit. They’re carrying
plates of cake.

“Not that I don’t love Timothy,” Will quickly corrects. “Just nice to get some alone time, that’s all
I meant.”

“Calvin babysitting?” Niall asks with a full mouth.

Will rolls his eyes and scoffs. His scent turns sharp. “It’s his own child. He’s not babysitting; he’s
being a parent.”

Niall holds up a hand in an innocent gesture.

“Sorry,” Will says, his scent settling. “I just hate when people call it babysitting just ‘cause it’s the
Alpha watching the child and not the omega.”

“Totally get it, my bad,” Niall apologizes to Will, mouth still full. He glances over at Zayn. “Bad
choice of words. Omegas get enough stereotypes as it is.”

“Yeah,” Zayn just agrees quietly, going back to eating.

“You guys are awesome, man,” Niall just says, reaching out to touch Harry’s knee before looking
at him and then over at Will. “Not bein’ weird--”

“You’re always weird,” Will interrupts, and Zayn laughs. Louis wraps his arm around Harry on the
back of the couch, and he keeps his hand on Harry’s shoulder.

“No, really, not bein’ weird,” Niall grins and says, “but I couldn’t do it. No way.”

“What? Be a dad or be pregnant?”

“Be pregnant,” Niall clarifies, already back to finishing the last of his cake.

“Good thing you can’t get pregnant, then,” Will counters.

Niall lets out a stupid laugh, and Louis watches Harry and Will make quick eye contact.

The conversation easily leads back to Harry’s pregnancy, everyone now speculating on the baby’s
gender (”I think she’ll be an Alpha like Lou’s mom,” Harry says). Louis drowns most of it out;
he’s still purposefully trying not to think about how Niall just touched his mate’s knee.

He’s trying not to think about it.

It was only a small touch. Niall’s own mate--or whatever Zayn is to him--is right next to Niall. This
is a happy event. Louis repeats these three sentences inside his head and clenches his jaw in order
to not let his stupid thoughts show on his face.

He wishes Will had brought Calvin, honestly. He’s not looking for some therapy session, not
looking to get all up in his feelings or anything, but he needs to talk to an Alpha his age who’s gone
through his omega’s pregnancy before. To put him at ease. To give him some validation that he’s
not slowly just going crazy. Because...this is just getting out of hand.

As familiar as it’s become for Harry to wake up from naps to Louis whispering to his stomach, it’s
just as familiar for him to wake up from the insistent press of Louis’ dick to his back. There’s
something comforting about the hard press he always feels against him each morning, and that’s a
stupid way to describe a dick--comforting--but it is. It’s a reminder that Louis’s there, that he’s
been there all night, holding him, protecting him.

Louis’s wrapped around him like a barnacle; his height makes it so when they spoon, his head is
right at the nape of Harry’s neck, and more often than not, he bunches a pillow under his face,
presses his forehead into the little dip between Harry’s shoulder blades, and just dozes like that.
Right now, that’s exactly his position, and he even has a leg in between both of Harry’s. Even with
a hard-on, he’s fast asleep, and Harry wakes him up accidentally as he disengages himself from his
body. Louis doesn’t let go.

Harry makes some noise. “Gotta get up.”

Louis groans and still pulls Harry back, grumbling out a sleepy, “Nooo.”

Harry taps on Louis’ wrist. “Gotta pee. Let me up.”

When Harry gets back to bed, Louis’ eyes are open, but just barely. They’re squinty though
discernably bright, and he’s watching Harry like Harry’s doing a strip-tease or something, like he’s
sauntering back to bed instead of carefully balancing the weight of his clumsy body with each step
so he doesn’t trip in the darkness of the room. It’s barely seven in the morning.

Louis slides to Harry’s side of the bed and pulls back the covers. “Get back in here.”

Harry climbs into bed on Louis’ side, the side closest to the bathroom door, and smiles to himself.
Louis moving to the other side of the bed could mean that he’s just being polite so Harry doesn’t
have to walk all the way around the bed, but Harry knows the real reason. Louis’s admitted
recently that he “works better” with his left hand.

“Good dreams?” Harry jokes, sliding closer to Louis and pulling the covers on top of them.

Appreciatively, Louis just runs his hands all along Harry’s legs and thighs and waist. Harry sighs.
Louis is good with both his hands, really, but his left hand does seem to be a bit more precise
sometimes. Harry closes his eyes, settles into the bed, and lets himself be caressed.

The hair on Louis’ head is too long. He’s going through a phase like Harry where he won’t cut it,
and it’s all in his face, messy from sleep. His face is still raggedy, too, a full-on beard he hasn’t
shown any interest in shaving off recently. He’s not very hairy elsewhere, just a dusting of chest
hair tapering into a thin trail down the center of his torso, down his thin but defined stomach. Out
of impulse, Harry scratches through the curls on his chest. Louis makes an appreciative, low moan
and juts out his hips. In the time it took for Harry to get to the bathroom and back, he’s removed
his boxers.

“How are you this hard,” Harry muses, feeling Louis poke him from the side.

“Try sleepin’ next to the best-smellin’ omega in the world, pregnant with your baby. See how you
feel.”

Harry bites his lip. “I’d rather sleep next to the Alpha who made me pregnant.”

Like he needs reminding, Louis’ hand touches Harry’s stomach. Harry closes his eyes and sighs.
“Thanks again for my party.”

Harry trails his hand further down Louis’ chest, easily finding and wrapping his hand around his
cock. The smooth and giving skin under his palm is hot to the touch, and it’s easy for Harry to
glide down to the root. “Of course, baby,” Louis just says.

Louis makes some noise as Harry starts moving his hand up again, but when he reaches out to take
Harry’s shirt off, he removes Harry’s grip on him in the process.

Harry hesitates before raising his arms to let Louis undress him. He’s happy to be pregnant, but
there’s this dark line that runs down his belly now, and his tattoos are a little too stretched. His
chest isn’t--it’s not swollen, it’s way too early for that--but it’s...okay, it’s swollen. His nipples are
darker now, and his chest is swollen, and his body is different. When Harry’s bare from the waist-
up, Louis looks at him like fresh meat he wants to stare at forever and call pretty.

“What d’you want?” Louis asks. His hand has immediately attached itself to Harry’s bump, thumb
running over the swell below Harry’s belly button. He puts his head back on the pillow as he
caresses there.

“You’re in charge,” Harry just says while settling back onto the mattress, too, careful to speak into
the pillow and not into Louis’ face. It’s morning and he hasn’t brushed his teeth. Harry reaches out
for Louis’ cock again, but Louis swats his hand away.

Louis reaches up to tuck a strand of Harry’s hair behind an ear. “I am, aren’t I?” he muses. He then
puts his hand under his cheek, meeting the other one that he’s been resting his head on atop the
pillow, and he stares at Harry, blue eyes piercing. He looks...ridiculously fucking hot. He should
touch Harry again. Or let Harry touch him. Last night, there’d been no time. Guests had stayed too
late at the party, then they had to clean up.

“Are you scheming?” Harry jokes, smirking while scooting himself a little closer to Louis. He feels
a little more awake now.

“Mm. Not scheming. Just thinkin’ of you tellin’ me I’m in charge.”

“You are. You’re the Alpha, aren’t you?”

Louis just smiles.

“You like hearing that so much,” Harry mutters. He’s smiling softly, but there’s more than just a
playful edge to his statement. His hormones have been highest in the mornings, and after touching
Louis and feeling how hard he already is, he wants him inside him.

Instead of answering, Louis moves to dig into the nighstand beside him. There’s the sound of
plastic popping open, and then Louis rolls back over.

“Take off your underwear and open your legs,” he instructs, and when Harry complies
immediately, Louis lowers his hand and presses his slick fingers to where Harry’s empty. He then
kisses Harry’s shoulder.

After several minutes of sleepy and whispered dirty-talk while Louis’ fingers lazily open Harry up,
Harry finally feels ready, and he sits up. His growing stomach has resulted in skin and ligaments
being stretched in ways he’s not used to, and he’s not able to stay on his back any longer. To
continue, he’ll have to roll over on his side, get on his hands and knees, or sit on Louis’ lap.

“So you’re the Alpha and all,” Harry says, “but you wouldn’t have a problem if I ride you, would
you?”

“No fuckin’ problem at all, babe,” Louis answers, and Harry chuckles. He knew the answer to that
already.

Harry turns and lifts a leg over Louis, careful to keep the blanket on his shoulders as he does so,
and he meets Louis’ hungry gaze.

“Yeah, baby,” Louis mumbles while Harry grips Louis’ cock again and matches it behind him. “Sit
on it.”

Harry closes his eyes at the first sharp press inside, and he lets out a breath he hadn’t known he’d
taken in as he works himself down the first inch or two. Louis finds Harry’s wrists easily as he
continues lowering himself, then his hands, and by the time Harry’s fully sitting on Louis’ cock,
they’re holding hands with their fingers intertwined.

“God, look at you.”

Harry swallows. From the window to the side, the sun is starting to rise, and light is coming in
through the sides of the closed curtains, casting light on Louis’ face. His eyes are flitting
everywhere, searching all of Harry’s face, then his chest, then his stomach, then his chest again,
then his face again. His gaze is heavy. Harry experimentally lifts himself up as slowly as he can
just to see his expression change. Louis’ mouth makes an o-shape, and he closes his eyes briefly.

Harry does that a few times, gliding along Louis’ dick slow and pretty, then Louis growls and pulls
his hips down, causing both of them to moan. After that, Harry’s instincts take over, and he starts
truly riding Louis. The artificial slick helps in the beginning, but after a while, Harry grows slicker,
and the smell of it can’t be missed, nor can the way it trails down to Louis’ balls as Harry keeps
moving.

“Fuck, Harry.”

When Louis starts thrusting upwards to match Harry, Harry gives over to it, placing his hands on
Louis’ chest so his face is closer to Louis’. They still haven’t kissed once, and it somehow makes
this even more intimate. Harry’s mindful to keep his mouth closed even though he’s breathing
roughly and moaning in the back of his throat. Louis clearly hasn’t had time to brush his teeth,
either, so he keeps his mouth closed, too, and both of their huffed breaths come out through their
nostrils.

“Baby,” Harry still lets out. “Close.”

Louis nods and grips Harry’s thigh. “Come on me,” he huffs, so, so quietly, so so low. He’s staring
at Harry’s stomach, at the way it’s poking out and touching his own.

Harry looks down to where Louis’s staring, and the image of his pregnant stomach touching Louis
is so meaningful he has to close his eyes. He doesn’t even think to put a hand on his dick; the
pressure of it against Louis’ skin is good enough, and the fullness inside is all Harry can think
about. He’s on top of Louis, but Louis’s still in charge, he’s everything, and he’s so thick Harry
feels like crying out, and so he does. That’s when Harry feels a sharp tug on his scalp that signifies
Louis is now holding his hair firmly. Harry still feels the other hand on his leg.

Heavily blinking his eyes open, Harry just succumbs to Louis, finally halting the jerky movements
of his hips to just let Louis thrust up and take over. “‘M…’M gonna--”

“Full of our baby, Haz, fuck,” Louis groans.

Harry’s face twists up like he’s going to cry, and that’s when Louis pulls on the handful of Harry’s
hair that’s in his hand, hard enough that Harry knows that even if he wanted to he can’t move at all
anymore, but not hard enough to actually pull his head back.

Harry’s mouth drops open and he squeezes his eyes shut while his orgasm washes through him,
and he realizes once he’s on the other side of it that the hand of Louis’ that isn’t in his hair has
been somehow jerking him off. Harry doesn’t think of the strange, bended angles their bodies are
in. He just lets the feeling run through him.

His heart is pounding when he rolls off Louis, and Louis’ cum floods out of him onto the sheets.
His orgasm was so good, he can’t even be bothered by it.
“We need to shower.”

“Yeah.”

They go back to sleep.

“Let’s do something today,” Louis tells him an hour or two later when Bruce and Butters finally
wake them up to eat.

Harry yawns. “Whatcha wanna do?”

Louis meshes his body to Harry’s side and kisses his shoulder, making his way up to his neck.
“Shower together to start with…”

“Mm.”

Louis stops just below Harry’s ear, tickling Harry with his facial hair, and he bites Harry’s earlobe
before sitting up. “We can go grab something to eat, like--go to an actual restaurant together. We
haven’t done that in forever.”

“Oooh.” Harry actually sits up at that, too. “What time is it? We can have brunch.”

“Food,” Louis corrects.

“Yeah. Food called brunch.” Harry gets out of bed.

“Anyway--”

“You’re so anti-brunch. Say it with me. Brunch. It’s a good word.”

Still in bed, Louis looks exaggeratedly at the ceiling. “I mated a dork.”

Harry cackles.

“You remember where we did that pregnancy shoot?” Louis asks in the shower. He washes
Harry’s back then gives the loofah to Harry so he can do the same to him.

“Yeah.”

“They have hiking trails and stuff nearby we could check out. Nothing too crazy long. Think
you’re up for it or you just wanna hang out today? It’s not supposed to be too cold today, I don’t
think. Just regular jacket weather.”

After Louis rinses his hair and opens his eyes again, Harry stares at him to feel him out, but his
expression is serious. A feeling goes through Harry’s stomach, like--he hates saying this, but like
butterflies. Louis, who would much rather sit on the couch all day playing video games, especially
on a Sunday, is proposing that they go on a hike together.

Louis misreads Harry’s silence. “Yesterday probably wore you out with all those people over here,
huh? Stupid idea, it’s all good.”

“No, idiot,” Harry says. “I want to hike.”

“You do?”

“‘Course I do,” Harry says, stepping out of the shower and toweling off. His skin feels so
stretched. “I wasn’t bein’ quiet ‘cause I didn’t like the idea. I’m, like, extremely impressed by you.
You planned a surprise party for me yesterday, now you’re taking me on a hike…”

The look on Louis’ face can only be described as smug as he gets out of the shower.

“Lou, I think I might wanna have your babies.”

Louis caps off a perfect day by heating up leftovers from the party the night before while Harry
sprawls out on the couch. Bruce is laying underneath Harry, exhausted from running free all
afternoon on their hike.

“Thaaanks,” Harry tells Louis after accepting his plate.

“Sure, baby,” Louis answers. He settles himself on the end of the couch opposite Harry, and they
both put their legs up and twist them together as they eat. It’s relatively quiet except for Harry’s
loud laughter at the stupid old episode of Friends he’s got on, and when they’re both done, Louis
takes their paper party plates and tosses them on the coffee table. He then reaches out for one of
Harry’s feet and starts rubbing it.

“It’s okay,” Harry tells him. “They don’t hurt.”

“You walked a lot today. Let me rub them.”

Harry settles back on the couch, adjusting the pillow under his back. Louis’s Alpha-grumpy
sometimes and overprotective in ways that are sometimes completely extra, but he balances it out
with all of this.

“Today’s been really great,” Harry says after Louis has thoroughly massaged both of his feet. “This
whole weekend has been.”

“Good.” Louis smiles. “What was your favorite part?”

“Brunch,” Harry answers, grinning.

“Not this morning in bed?”

“This morning,” Harry corrects, “and then brunch.”

Louis laughs. “Glad you like me better than brunch. I still got it.”

“You never lost it.”

“Smooth.”

“The smoothest,” Harry replies, laughing, too. They go back to watching Friends, Louis somehow
still rubbing Harry’s feet, until Harry finally says, “Hey, Lou?”

Louis looks to him with his eyebrows raised in question.

“Um. So. Do you think we could start maybe getting the nursery ready soon?”
“Yeah, babe, of course,” Louis answers right away.

Harry smiles. “When?”

“After this semester’s over, I’ll have more time. Prolly will have to wait until after Christmas
‘cause it’ll be a lot going on, I’ve got a few projects to wrap up and shit, but, yeah.”

Harry’s smile falls.

“What?” Louis asks.

“I’m just.” Harry sighs. “I dunno. I guess it’s nesting, just...omega-stuff. I just really feel like I need
to get it done soon.”

Louis watches the television for a bit before turning his face back to Harry.

“So, yeah, your sister called me up today.”

“She did?” Harry asks, immediately grouchy that she hadn’t called him. “When?”

“Relax,” Louis chuckles. “When you were getting ready for brunch. It was about your baby
shower.”

Harry’s happy again. “What about it?”

“She told me she wants to be in charge of planning or whatever, so I told her go ahead.”

“She would want to be in charge of planning it,” Harry just comments.

Louis smiles. “Yeah, so. My thoughts were...Maybe we can wait until after the shower so we can
put everything up all together?” When Harry’s face falls again, Louis corrects himself. “I mean,
the painting can be done first, of course, but the...I dunno, the hanging up pictures and whatever--”

“It’s called decorating.”

“Decorating,” Louis mocks. “All that maybe could be put on hold? Until you get all the gifts?”

“Um. Sure.”

“Or not,” Louis suggests.

“No,” Harry relents, “that’s actually a good idea, ‘cause if I start decorating now I might have to
move stuff around. Or--you would have to move stuff around for me. It makes sense.”

“Okay. Good. We were thinking of doing it at my mom’s house since she offered, plus there’s a lot
of room there to host, you know?”

“Yeah, sure, sounds good.”

Louis squeezes Harry’s foot a little to get his attention. “You good, babe? Does that sound okay?”

“Yeah,” Harry says, nodding quickly. “I just wanna get everything done, you know?”

“I know. I’ll take care of it all, though, alright? I got this.”

“You got this,” Harry repeats.

 Chapter 4
Chapter Notes

Harry's hormonal.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Nineteen and Twenty-One, December

Harry’s sitting on the couch watching It’s A Wonderful Life and crying when Louis gets home
from campus. Like, full-on sob-crying, face-red-and-wet crying.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Louis mumbles, immediately dropping his things by the door and rushing to sit
down beside him. He senses that Harry’s not sad, but rather emotional, but still, he gets next to him
and puts his arm around him, and Harry immediately leans into the embrace and cries harder.

Sniffling uncontrollably, Harry continues staring ahead at the television. Louis sighs and runs his
hands through Harry’s hair to settle him down. He’s watched this movie with Harry before and
tried to pay attention, but it being in black-and-white kind of bored him, though he never admitted
it to Harry. Or to anyone else, really. He’s a theater major, so he’s watched a ton of black-and-white
shit, but it’s just--it’s boring. He still watches it, though, ‘cause it’s something Harry likes.

He realizes it’s the very end of the movie. There’s a huge group of people giving money to some
Alpha who needed it to save his job, or to protect his mate and kids or something, and the
community’s all rallied together to give it to him just in time for the holidays. It gets to Harry every
single time he sees it.

“It’s so much,” he just says as everyone on screen starts singing Auld Lang Syne. “Everyone loves
him.” Harry motions to the character, George, with a tiny motion with his jaw. ”And he never
knew how much impact he had on people. It’s so much.”

Louis leans over to kiss Harry’s head. “You gonna be okay?”

Harry nods quickly, straightening up and wiping his face. Louis notices he has random fingernails
on both hands painted blue and purple. “I always get like this watching this movie.”

“You do,” Louis agrees. “Sh, it’s alright.”

Harry talks a little bit more about the movie, and Louis hums and listens. He gets so invested.
“You gonna be alright?”

Harry finally lifts his head off Louis’ shoulder and wipes his face. “Yeah, of course. I love this
movie. I’m just--pregnant and crazy.”

“You’re not crazy.”

Harry puts his hands on his stomach. “D’you have to go to the Grand tonight?”

Louis shakes his head. “Off tonight and pulling two all-nighters in a row tomorrow and Thursday to
prepare for opening night.”

Harry doesn’t pout, but Louis knows his scent well enough to notice the tiny shifts in it. He lifts his
hand from its spot around Harry’s shoulder. “I know it sucks,” he says, standing up. His knee pops
as he does so. “This month is gonna be stupid busy for me with the new production taking off. I
apologize in advance.”

Louis bends down to kiss Harry, and it’s short and sweet and a little snotty, then he straightens up
and heads to the kitchen. “You wanna do an early dinner and just eat in bed?” he calls out. He just
wants to fucking snuggle with Harry. His drive to smother his body with his own is high tonight.

Harry replies something affirmative, so Louis goes through the refrigerator and cabinets for
something to make. Harry wordlessly joins him moments later and takes charge of grabbing out
food. He and Louis move around each other in perfect synchronicity after that, Louis getting pots
and pans and spices for Harry and then sticking around to the side of the stove to be his designated
food-stirrer and tester.

They eat on leftover party plates on their bed, and Louis chooses to put some mindless and sappy
Hallmark movie on television to get Harry’s mind back in a happier place. When they’re finished
with their food, Louis cleans up and then runs a bath with a bunch of good-smelling bubbles he’d
bought for Harry recently. He normally only does it after heats, but Louis joins Harry in the bath, if
only to rub his shoulders and feel his skin and soak in all the time they can before Louis’ schedule
blows up.

It’s nice like it always is, holding Harry. Louis’s in a sitting position with his legs spread open so
Harry fits in between, his back against Louis’ chest. Harry’s legs are too long to submerge under
the water with two of them in the tub like this, and even though he’s usually flexible enough to
contort himself strangely to get his legs under the water, his pregnant belly currently prevents that,
and he ends up stretching his legs up and resting them up by the faucet. The room is dark, lit only
by a few of Harry’s candles, and it’s quiet, only the small sound of sloshing water here and there
making any noise.

One day Louis’s gonna get him a big house with an actual jacuzzi-tub. They’d both fit in it without
having to do it like this. It’s been Louis’ dream for a long, long time, to get a huge home with the
best stuff inside it. Harry could keep his legs under the water in a bath as large as that, and Louis
could even put his legs on top of Harry’s shins, entwined like otters under the sea.

“You thought about what you wanna do for your birthday?” Harry asks after a while, breaking the
silence of the room and the loudness of Louis’ thoughts.

Louis makes a noise like a scoff. “Not even on my radar, babe.”

“Last birthday before Olivia’s here,” Harry reminds him.

Louis’s been slowly and carefully massaging Harry’s shoulders and arms. He stops for a second.
“Oh, Olivia, is it, now?”

Louis’d thought they’d decided on something else, but Harry keeps changing his mind.

“I’ve been goin’ through the books again,” Harry says, shifting a bit in the bath. Louis moves his
hands from his shoulders to his chest, slightly rubbing the tender muscle there. “It’s a good one.
It’s on a bunch of lists, too. Getting popular.”

“Yeah, so in five years, that means all her classmates will have the same name.”
“I like it.”

“Me, too,” Louis admits.

“So?”

Louis’ fingers freeze atop Harry’s puffy nipples. “Hm?”

“Birthday plans.”

“Oh, right,” Louis murmurs. He runs a hand through his too-long hair, the wetness on his fingers
causing it to slick back in the front. “Babe, it’s not important, really. I’ve got finals to start studying
for next week and then the premiere of this production to prepare for...then actually be at the
Grand for all the weekend runs for the next month…” He sighs. “I don’t know. I don’t need
anything special. I’m gonna be happy just to be able to spend it with you, really.”

“You’re stressed,” Harry comments.

“No more than usual this time of year.”

Harry takes Louis’ hands and drags them down to his stomach. He places them on his skin there
and keeps his hands atop Louis’. “Yes.”

Louis sighs again. “Yes,” he admits.

“We should do something to make it better while we can, then,” Harry suggests. “Make you forget
about all that stuff for a little.”

“Hm.” Louis lets his hands roam a bit across the wet skin of Harry’s belly. “What did you have in
mind?”

“Mm.”

Louis laughs quietly into Harry’s ear. “Not gonna tell me?”

“Maybe it’s a surprise.”

“Oh,” Louis replies. He’s starting to chub up. “You know I like those.”

“You like those when they’re for me,” Harry answers, moving his head a little so it’s resting more
towards one side of Louis and not in the middle. Louis can see his face better now. “Not so much
when they’re for you.”

“Why? You not gonna tell me what it is?”

“No,” Harry replies, moving his ass a little to rub against Louis’ groin. Louis can hear the smile in
his voice.

“That’s not playing very fair, is it?”

“Who said I play fair?”

“Yeah,” Louis echoes, hands running up and down Harry’s sides, “you do play dirty, don’t you?”

While Louis and Harry softly move against one another, Harry closes his eyes. “Don’t know what
you’re talkin’ about.”
“I think you do,” Louis answers. “Teasin’ me is playin’ pretty dirty.”

Harry smiles after briefly biting his lip, and his eyes twinkle in the dark room. “I think it’s playin’
pretty nice, babe.”

Louis laughs quietly, the mood playful. He taps on Harry’s shoulder to indicate for him to sit up,
and as he does, Louis stands. He gets out the tub dripping water on the floor and holds his hand out
to assist Harry do the same. They stand on the big fluffy white rug Harry’d picked out when they
first got this place and stare at one another before even thinking about drying off. Once they do,
with one towel draped across both of their bodies, Louis can’t stop himself from holding Harry’s
stomach and leaning forward to meet his mouth.

When Louis’ flat stomach reaches Harry’s belly bump, Louis opens his mouth, hot tongue
immediately darting out to taste Harry’s. One of Louis’ hands slides up to the back of Harry’s neck,
pulling his face in deeper. Harry’s been so horny lately that Louis knows how he wants it, and he
licks in his mouth, intending to savor him. Harry’s tongue dances right along with his.

Harry makes a tiny whimpering noise when Louis lets go, and Louis just kisses him again. “I
know, baby. I got you,” he murmurs.

Louis slides the towel off their shoulders and hears it fall to the floor, then reaches out for Harry’s
hand.

“I gotta…” Harry’s skin is so pale in the dark room it looks supernatural. His dark hair frames his
face in curls that look out of a salon commercial. He draws attention to it when he pushes it out of
his face and tucks it behind his ears. “Shit, d’you mind waiting just a second while I put on some
lotion? I’m really sorry.”

Feeling a little drunk already from the scent building in the room, Louis responds belatedly to the
question. He’s confused for a second before remembering that water dries out Harry’s skin, and
he’s been super adamant about lotioning his belly lately.

Louis drops his mouth open. “Yeah, ‘course. Yeah.”

“Sorry I...” Harry says meekly.

Louis kisses him once more and takes a step back. “I’ll be waiting. On the bed.”

Harry smiles. “You better be.”

On top of the comforter in the middle of the bed, Louis gives in and strokes himself just a few
times but then makes himself stop before getting too carried away. He’s patient until he’s suddenly
not.

“Babe, what’s takin’ so long?” Louis calls out. Harry doesn’t answer.

Louis hops out of bed and is confused to find the bathroom door locked. It was weird enough that
Harry closed it. The little smile on his face drops. He knocks on the door. “Harry? What’re you
doin’?”

“Just a second!”

“Harry,” Louis says sternly, jiggling the locked door back and forth. “Seriously. What’s up?”

The door opens a second later. Harry’s got a towel on, and he does smell head-to-toe like lotion,
but his face is weird. “Chill. I’m fine. I was putting lotion on like I said.”

“But why’d you lock the door?”

“‘Cause I just wanted some privacy.”

“...After literally taking a bath together and rubbing your ass against my cock?”

Harry weakly shrugs. Louis puts his finger on Harry’s chin, hand on his jaw to get him to stop
averting his gaze.

Harry takes a deep breath and exhales. “Okay, fine. Fine. Instead of making something up and
running to hide under the covers or something--I’ll tell you.”

Louis expectantly waits. “Well?”

“You gotta let go of my face first.”

After Louis does, Harry takes a step to the side. He opens the cabinet door below the sink, bends
over, and reaches inside towards the back while groaning at the stretch.

When Harry stands back up, he’s got some silky balled-up thing in the palm of his hand. “I got this,
and I was gonna put it on--Well, I did put it on, but I...took it back off.”

Louis’ face remains scrunched up in confusion. “What is it?”

“This,” Harry says, tucking in a towel he’d put on across his chest with his free hand. He then uses
both hands to stretch out what he’s been holding: some sort of silky, lacy black top. It’s simple, like
a lingerie tank top (Louis has no clue if tank top is the right word to call it, but it’s small and silky
and has a spaghetti strap), but down the center of it, it’s see-through and split, almost like someone
took scissors and just cut right up from the bottom to the center. Louis imagines how Harry would
look if he put this on. His pregnant stomach would poke out the middle there.

Louis swallows. “Why’d you take it off? When’d you even get it?”

“Sunday.”

“When you went to the mall with Calvin and Will?”

Harry nods.

“You didn’t try it on before you bought it?”

Harry shakes his head. “I bought it while Will was trying something on. Just. Saw a size that would
fit and got it while Calvin was in the fitting room with Will.”

"Harry.”

“They were...Will was shopping for baby-making stuff, which I don’t even wanna begin to think
about, but. I thought. Since I was there. You know. I’d get something, too.”

“Why’d you take it off?” Louis repeats.

“Made my--made my chest look weird.”

Louis’s head might be spinning a little, like that feeling when you’ve been under water too long.
“What does that even mean?”

“This is--it’s cut for omegas. But maybe female omegas?”

“Bullshit,” Louis says quietly. “You wouldn’t look weird in this.”

“But I sort of do,” Harry mutters.

“You painted your nails today, too.”

“Yeah, I--” Harry clears his throat. “I did.”

“Well, even if you don’t want to wear this right now, you can’t just put it under the sink, silly boy,”
Louis just says, taking the lingerie out of Harry’s hands. “Can’t believe you just threw it in a ball
and shoved it under the sink.”

Harry quietly snorts as he follows Louis into the bedroom. He drops his towel and climbs into the
bed, covering himself with the blanket and snuggling in, but Louis takes his time joining him. He
carefully strokes the tank top, getting all the wrinkles out, and he folds it into a little square before
placing it on the dresser.

“What is that?” Harry asks as Louis finally climbs in bed. “You never fold clothes. Not even your
own clothes.”

“That’s different.”

“Mkay.”

“It’s not just clothes, Harry. You know that. It’s special.”

Harry smells pleased.

“You sure you don’t wanna put it on for me?”

Actually bashful, Harry shrugs. Louis leans in closer and strokes his chest under the blanket. Up
and down, right in between his tits.

“I’d like it. You don’t like it?”

“I mean. I don’t dislike it. It just feels like I’m wearing a bra-thing. The top of it--it’s got space
for...”

“For when you grow there,” Louis finishes for him.

Harry’s breath is coming out shuddery. “Yeah.”

“For when you get full of milk there.”

Harry closes his eyes. “You’re fucking killing me here.”

“I’m killing you?” Louis chuckles, then leans even more into Harry and starts nibbling at his neck.
Harry obediently turns his neck for him--like always--and Louis finds that soon, his nibbles turn
into bites which turn into sucks which turn into marks.

“Okay,” Harry decides a second later.

“Okay?” Louis repeats dumbly, breathing quickly on Harry’s saliva-covered neck.

“I wanna put it on for you,” Harry says.

Louis settles back on the pillows. “Baby…”

“Just. Wait here.”

This time, after Harry’s waddled to the bathroom, Louis kicks the blanket down to the foot of the
bed and strokes himself without restraint. He’s still slow with it, but he’s continual, and he can
barely hold back his own groans as each stroke pulls out a little bit more pre-cum to glisten the tip.
He moves to sit up against the pillows on the headboard.

Like he’s literally just fucking touched a hot stove, Louis gasps when Harry opens the bathroom
door and walks out. He squeezes his cock. “My fucking God.”

Harry bites his lip at Louis’ reaction and steps forward. He looks down at himself. He’s naked
from the waist-down, cock mostly hidden by the protrusion of his stomach. The top he’s wearing is
simple--two small bits of satin fabric over his nipples, a little black bow in between, and then the
flowing lace underneath that, perfectly framing Harry’s stomach while still showing all of it.

“Want me on top?” Harry asks, climbing slowly on the bed and making his way to Louis.

“Yeah, get up here,” Louis answers in a low voice, hand still on his dick. “Let me touch you in
that.”

Harry settles himself atop Louis’ thick thighs, and he puts his hands on Louis’ shoulders. Louis’
hands are now everywhere on Harry.

“What’s this thing called, anyway?” he asks, mouth already on the fabric, tongue darting out to
wetly flick at Harry’s nipple underneath.

Harry laughs, but it turns into a whimper when Louis starts sucking. “A camisole.”

“Mm. It’s pretty.”

Harry shifts on Louis’ lap, causing their cocks to brush against one another. Harry's hard, rounded
stomach remains a constant presence against Louis' own.

“You’re wet,” Louis says, moving to Harry’s other nipple. “Can smell it.”

“Yeah.” Harry’s hands are now in Louis’ hair, and it’s long enough for him to take a huge fistful of
and tug.

Louis groans. “Real wet. Can picture you in a few months wearin’ this thing.” Louis starts moving
his hips to grind against whatever he can.

“Gonna poke right out the center,” Harry whispers. “Huge and tight.”

“Fuck,” Louis whispers back. He lifts his face and seeks out Harry’s lips again, and his hands
cradle his face as their mouths align. “Fuck,” he says again.

Harry’s only reply is a moan.

“Get up here, c’mon,” Louis tells Harry, pulling at his waist. “Get your pretty fucking self on me
already, let me inside.”
Harry’s panting, and with Louis’ help, he shifts until Louis feels his cock against the wet rim of
Harry’s entrance.

“You need my fingers?” Louis asks. “Need lube?”

Harry shakes his head. “I’ll tell you.”

Louis just nods, and as Harry lowers himself, he says, “Kiss me.”

With his mouth covering Louis’, Harry whimpers while he impales himself, and Louis keeps his
hands on his stomach the whole time.

“Yeah. All the way.”

Harry hisses when he’s fully sat on Louis’ lap. Their stomachs touch, and Louis still desperately
kisses Harry.

“Gonna be so fucking round, Haz,” Louis murmurs. Harry nods quickly.

“The tattoos. Gonna be so pretty.”

Harry just huffs a little, and Louis makes the smallest movement to push himself up inside deeper.
He’s so hard he’s throbbing, and he can feel it with every beat of his heart.

“So full of my baby. All mine.”

That gets Harry to whimper, so Louis keeps at it, barely moving his hips as Harry remains
completely still, mouth pressed to Louis’.

“Your chest. Gonna be so swollen.”

“Louis--”

“Can’t wait to suck them, can’t wait to see.”

“I’m gonna come,” is all the warning Harry can let out before clenching down so ridiculously
fucking tight on Louis’ cock, and he moans loudly, right into Louis’ open and panting mouth.

“Baby,” Louis groans. “Baby.”

Harry’s thighs are shaking. Louis feels a wet stickiness on his lower torso after that, and he grabs
Harry’s hips to still him, to pull him in again. Without the ability to help himself, as Harry
whimpers through his orgasm, Louis lifts a hand to pull Harry’s hair to the side, freeing his neck,
and he leans up and bites down. He groans and bellows like he’s being unraveled from the inside
after that, right into the skin of Harry’s neck, and when it’s over, he collapses back on the bed.

Blindly, Louis feels Harry dismount himself, and they stay side-by-side and touch one another
while breathing slower and slower together. Louis eventually feels the bed dip when Harry gets up.

“Don’t you dare get out of this bed,” Louis mutters. “Get your ass back in here.”

“I gotta get my washcloth myself since my Alpha can’t be bothered to.”

Louis smiles when Harry returns to bed. He just wiped himself off with the towel Harry’d just
thrown in the hamper.
“Sorry I’m a lazy fuck who didn’t get your washcloth,” Louis says, kissing Harry. "Too tired from
makin' you come in less than a minute."

“I understand,” Harry just replies, yawning. “You were too overcome by your omega’s sexiness.”

“Mm. Damn straight.”

Louis finds the covers and pulls them over himself and Harry, snuggling up to his side and putting
his hand atop his belly, like always.

“Lou,” Harry protests, shifting a bit.

“We gotta cuddle after sex, babe,” Louis just sleepily says. "Rules."

“We never clean the sheets afterwards, though,” Harry giggles.

“‘Cause we’re heathens.”

“You’re a heathen,” Harry corrects.

“Mmhm,” Louis agrees. He’s sleepy, and he wants to surround himself with Harry’s scent and just
doze off. His voice is slow and syrupy, almost just like Harry’s, when he drowsily replies, “I’m a
heathen, and you’re a pretty princess.”

In the nursery-that’s-not-really-a-nursery-yet, Louis looks at the clock at the bottom of the

computer screen; he’s got one more hour of study-time, then they’ve gotta go to Louis’ mom’s
house for dinner. It’s not his birthday for two more weeks, but they’re gonna have to do the
celebration early this year ‘cause of Louis’ work schedule. Louis’d told them they don’t have to do
it at all, but his mother, of course, insisted. As did Harry.

Louis’s got half-a-mind to call Harry in here to help him study because he’s such a good study
buddy. Harry’s admitted that assisting Louis with his work in college has helped make him feel
less dumb for not being in school anymore, and he says he enjoys it. Louis won’t pull him into this,
though. It’s fucking business shit, anyway--not that Harry isn’t familiar with it, but it is pretty
complicated, actually--and Louis doesn’t want to bore him.

Louis looks around at the room and sighs. It’s emptier than it’s been before, but it’s still got his
desk and computer in it. There are jars of unopened paint underneath the window.

Sighing again, Louis’ hand goes to the cat on his lap.

Louis has been chosen for Butters to sit on. Butters has chosen him. He’s never chosen; it’s Harry’s
cat. He feels obligated to stay still. So he does, and he reads through all his notes saved on his
computer until Harry quietly knocks on the door. When Louis turns in his computer chair, Butters
jumps off his lap with an attitudinal meow.

“Mm. Look at you,” Louis comments, standing up and stretching. Harry’s wearing a nice pair of
pants and a turtleneck that Louis knows is more to hide the marks on his neck than because of the
weather.

“Like it?” Harry asks, and Louis just nods.

“Go get dressed. We gotta leave in ten.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “I don’t wannnnna.”

“You gottttta,” Harry sings back. “You’re gettin’ presents and eating birthday cake, c’mon, cheer
up.”

Louis’ old childhood home is as big and noisy as he’s always remembered it. When he walks in,
though, even though it’s his birthday celebration, Harry gets all the positive attention.

“Ugh, gross,” Lottie says as she gives Louis the quickest hug ever, careful to not get close to his
scruffy face. “When’re you gonna shave that thing off?”

“I shaved just the other day. I’m not a fucking hobo," Louis counters with, pulling the ends of her
hair. She smacks his arm, and Louis punches her lightly on hers.

“Look like it,” she says, hitting him back again.

“Speak for yourself, buttface,” Louis says, kicking her shin.

“Oh my god, look at you,” Lottie practically squeals to Harry.

“You just saw me the other day,” Harry laughs, opening his arms for a hug. He does the same for
all the other people quickly gathering up close to him.

“Unlike my brother, you look so good, Harry,” Lottie gushes. “Oh, my goshhhh. Look at your
stomach.”

Throughout the night, Louis’ parents look at Harry and Louis a lot--almost admiringly, some sort
of wistfulness in Austin’s expression. After dinner and a small amount of presents, everyone makes
their way to the backyard with blankets, graham crackers, marshmallows, and chocolate.

They spend the night by the fire pit in the back, Lou’s hand in Harry’s curls and Harry’s head on
Lou’s shoulder, talking and laughing and just generally having one of the best carefree nights
Louis’s remembered in a long time. It’s a random weeknight--the only time they could all get
together with their schedules--but it’s like an old Saturday night to Louis. Like--no bedtime, no
worries, just hanging out and genuinely being happy.

Inside, before driving back home, while Harry’s talking baby-stuff with the family, Louis goes
missing for a little bit to pack the car with presents and to walk around the now-unused wing of the
house. He’s not gone but about five minutes, and when he emerges from the area Harry used to
sleep in when he briefly lived with them, he sees Harry in the foyer putting on his boots.

“What were you doing back there?” Harry asks, then answers himself. “Checking out my old
room?”

Louis just smiles. He bends down and helps Harry push on his shoe. “Didn’t know if you still had
anything here of yours.”

Harry looks at Louis like he’s silly. “I lived here years ago?”

“We had lots of good times in that room,” Louis tells him. “Just wanted to see what it looked like
now.”

Harry smiles, and Louis offers out his hand. Taking it, Harry groans, lifting himself up with his
other hand on his back.

Harry’s due-date is in almost three months, and as he nears the third trimester, his desire to mate
grows to a level almost insane enough to make him forget about nesting. Almost.

It fills his body at the most inopportune times. Like when he and Louis are in the park with Bruce
one day playing fetch, and Louis’s throwing a ball, and Harry just catches a glance of skin and
boxer-elastic when his henley rides up with the forward motion of his arm, it’s enough to make it
feel like July in December. Then the other day Harry was looking through a magazine and there
was a random cereal advertisement--an Alpha and his son sitting at the table eating Cheerios--and
Harry got legitimately wet.

He's just happy his hormones have decided to do whatever it is they're doing to make him produce
slick again. Sex feels amazing now. It feels like it lasts forever, too. Harry just wants it all the
time...

Louis being busy so often this month has meant mornings are Harry's best chance. They often
spoon and mate like that, but on one morning close to the end of the month, Harry awakens before
Louis does and slides down to the middle of the bed.

As Harry mouths at his cock, it doesn't take long for Louis to wake up. With a hand in Harry’s hair,
he pulls back the strands falling down and makes a ponytail, a handle for himself. Harry plays
around before finally putting his skill in practice and jerking Louis off to the suction of his mouth.
A fast and high quickness to Louis' early-morning breathing is the only signal Harry gets before he
explodes into Harry's mouth, and Harry greedily swallows it all.

“I thought I liked the getting-you-pregnant part,” Louis throws a hand on his face and groans,
muffled. “Jesus Christ, baby."

Harry crawls up next to him, Louis looking exhausted but happy, and he kisses him.

Harry’s extremely smug.

Harry settles himself onto his pillow. "Whatcha mean?"

"The you-being-pregnant part is fucking insane," Louis just murmurs.

"Is that a bad thing?"

“Not at all,” Louis replies, his eyes a little droopy, a bit from drowsiness and a bit from desire.

Satisfied, Harry smiles and closes his eyes. "Goin' back to sleep with me now?"

“You know me better than that, now,” Louis just murmurs. And after pushing Harry onto his back,
he trails down the bed and pulls the covers over his shoulders.
Louis’ overprotectiveness of Harry doesn’t let up. Harry’s omega basks in it, mostly, since it
means he gets a lot of foot rubs, a lot of bubble baths, a lot of kisses, and lately, a lot of attention
he needs in the bedroom. As the month nears an end, however, with Louis’ increasingly busy
schedule keeping him distant from Harry, he gets moody. It’s something totally out-of-contrast
with the cheerfulness of the holiday season.

Standing in front of the stove, Harry sings along to the radio while frying bacon and sausage. After
months of food aversions, he can’t get enough of cooking now. And eating. Breakfast, lunch,
dinner--any time of the day. For instance, it’s currently the middle of a bleary December afternoon,
and after spending the morning chatting with Niall and Zayn in his living room since they’re home
from college for about a month now, he wraps presents, starts baking cookies, and then
immediately cooks the same meal he’d had for breakfast.

Harry busies himself by shoving scrambled eggs in his mouth while turning his breakfast sausages
over in the skillet, and he thinks about how one day soon there’ll be a baby sitting next to him in a
highchair--their daughter--and he’ll be cooking for a family and not just him and Louis, and next
year the baby’ll have Christmas presents under the tree with her name on them--

“Mom got called into work at the last minute,” Louis comes in the room and tells him, sighing and
rubbing his temples as he makes himself some tea from the kettle Harry’s put on the stove for him.
“Some woman’s in labor. She can’t come over now.”

“Oh.” Harry pauses in front of the stove. His free hand automatically rests on his belly. “Well,
that’s okay. Tell her it was nice of her to offer to do it, but I think I can just go ahead and get
started on it on my own since I’m off work for two days, anyway. It won’t really be that hard.”

“Oh, like hell,” Louis replies, sharply looking up. “You’re not gonna paint by yourself, are you
joking?”

“But with the window open, it’ll be fine,” Harry argues. He knew Louis would be like this. “The
paint I got is low-odor and specially made to--”

“No,” Louis repeats. “It’s freezing outside; don’t open the window. And it’s not just about that. It’s
the bending and the stretching and all that.”

Harry shuts his mouth until his lips are a thin line. He wants to argue more, but there’s no point.
Plus, Louis’s right. It’s just--they’ve been stalling on getting the nursery ready for long enough.
Harry’s getting antsy.

“Okay,” he still placates Louis after turning back to face the stove. He’s trying not to feel
resentment towards Louis about this. He gets that this month is crazy for him. He gets it. Still, he
wishes that Louis would feel the same desire that Harry does to prepare the nursery. In three
months, they’ll have a baby. It's like Louis isn't excited at all. “Okay.”

Louis sighs while the tea bag he’s placed in his mug steeps. “I’ll just paint this weekend. Now I
gotta find out who else can come over here to be with you before I have to leave for work,” he
mutters, scrolling through his phone.

Harry turns around again. “Come over here for what?’

“While I’m gone,” Louis answers. “It might be a long night for me. This production is a fucking
beast. We’ve got to meet up for costume changes and other bullshit."

“I don’t need a chaperone just ‘cause you’re working late,” Harry says, laughing in disbelief. “I’ll
be fine.”

“It’s late in the pregnancy now. You’re...I don’t feel right leaving you alone anymore.”

Harry stares at Louis in confusion. “You’ll be gone for, like, just the night, though, right? That’s a
regular shift.”

Louis thinks on it for a long time before finally shaking his head. “No. I can’t let you stay here by
yourself. I just--I don’t like the feeling of it.”

“Louiiiiiis,” Harry groans. “What are you trying to say here? I--I can’t be left alone for--what is it,
for the next three months?”

“Not at night,” Louis states. “Crime goes up around Christmastime. Last night someone's car out
here got broken into. Neighbor told me this morning."

“You’re being serious right now?”

“Harry. I can’t leave you here alone at night. Not with a clean conscience. Anything could
happen.”

“Like what?! And what if I wanted to be alone, huh? I don’t feel like I’ve had any time to myself in
forever. Not where I’m not sleeping or something. Not to get the nursery straight or to do laundry
or to--read a book. Nothing! All I do is sleep, clean, walk the dog, or go to the bakery!”

“Then you can have time to yourself with someone else here, too. You can still be alone. Just with
someone else in the living room or something.”

“That’s not at all what I meant.”

“I’m not discussing this any more." Louis sighs and looks at Harry, his face not unkind, but Harry
just feels angry. "My answer is no. What if someone tries to break in? It’s Christmastime--I mean,
anything crazy could happen like that. What if you get dizzy again like last week?"

"I stood up too fast--"

"Or what if you go into labor?”

“It’s nowhere near that time yet. I’ve got weeks and weeks and weeks to go.”

“It could happen earlier,” Louis argues. “You never know. Some omegas have it happen this early
and they have to have it medically stalled.”

“Could I just go with you, then?” Harry turns off the stove and asks. He’s never felt more like a
child. At his feet is Bruce, almost cowering and covering his toes with his body.

“What, to work?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t think so. There’s gonna be too many people there, too much going on. Lots of equipment--
lighting and stuff. It’s not safe.”

Harry stares at Louis in disbelief. He’s literally never felt more like a stereotypical omega than in
this moment. And he’s never felt this exact type of annoyance towards his mate before, ever. The
pregnancy has brought out new things about each of them, and Harry gets that, but this is...this is
too much.

The thing is--Harry’s visited Louis’ set at the Grand Capitol Theater before. Back when Louis was
logical, and nice, he took Harry there and individually introduced him to every single person who
works there. Suddenly, daydreams enter Harry’s head, fantasies. Fantasies of actual human
interaction that’s not in the form of texting, of socialization outside of just his regular bakery
patrons or his midwife appointments. At Louis’ work, he can already picture people coming up to
him and touching his stomach, and he’d smile and tell the ones who don’t know him yet--"I’m
Louis’ mate. That one right there, you know him? The assistant to the stage manager.”

“You think the lights are just gonna fall on top of me or something? Or that I’ll trip over the--the--”
Harry scrambles for a word-- “the fog machine or something ‘cause I’m just so clumsy--”

Louis firmly places his mug on the table. “Harry, that’s enough!”

Harry lifts his foot up to stomp, but when he realizes what he’s doing, he stops himself. “Louis, for
the tenth time, I’m fine alone. I can catch up on the other stuff for the nursery besides painting. I
could nap, I could watch TV, read...I mean. It’ll be fine.”

Louis’s quiet, and he stares out into the distance. His jaw is sharp. “No.”

“Do you not trust me or something?” Harry digs. “You think I’m gonna paint the nursery behind
your back or something?”

“Well, you moved furniture behind my back.”

“I dragged an end-table about ten feet across the living room floor, yeah,” Harry says,
argumentatively, “and surprisingly, I’m still alive! And I haven’t done it since, and--”

“Look, do you not care about this baby?”

Harry gasps. “How could you say something like that?”

“Because you’re arguing with every little thing I say. When I’m saying it for your own good.”

“You’re being controlling.”

“Protective,” Louis corrects. “I’m your Alpha. In case you forgot.”

Grumbling, Harry says quietly, “I’ll just call Gemma to see if she can come over, then.”

Louis scoffs. “She couldn’t protect you.”

“What do I need protection from? I’m--”

“You’re six months pregnant.”

“You always do this. I’m five months pregnant.”

“Almost six.”

“And the whole world isn’t flocking to the apartment to kidnap me, surprisingly,” Harry
sarcastically bites back, now in A Mood. He takes out his phone and starts waddling away while
texting. Bruce follows his side, whining.

Louis follows him into the living room. “What’re you doing?”
“Texting Gemma.”

“I told you, don’t worry about it.”

“Well, there’s really no other Alpha that you’re cool with me being alone with, so I don’t know
how I can win. You apparently want to keep me locked up inside this place like a prisoner.”

“That’s not what I want at all, and you know it,” Louis mumbles.

“You’re being rude,” Harry sulks, crossing his arms.

“I’m not,” Louis answers with forced patience, looking down at his own phone and texting.
“You’re just mad at me because I’m making a decision you don’t like.”

“You don’t know what it’s like!” Harry yells. He’s probably feeding off Louis’ own annoyance,
and he doesn’t even care to distinguish it anymore. “My body is huge and stretched out, and I hurt
in weird places, and you barely let me leave--”

“That’s not true whatsoever.”

“Not alone, at least!” Harry argues. “This place is a wreck, and the nursery isn’t close to being
done, and I’m not ready for this baby at all, and I won’t be able to get ready, ‘cause all you do is
bitch if I do anything whatsoever! It’s like you want me on bed-rest or something! Your mom said
I’m completely healthy and that I need to stay active. That means doing things.”

“That doesn’t mean moving furniture, and that doesn’t mean putting yourself in stupid, dangerous
situations!”

“Like taking Bruce on a walk outside?”

“Not alone!” Louis retaliates. “It’s too cold. And there’s a pool out there. You have a horrible
track-record with pools! Every time you get close to one you just about drown!”

Harry scowls. Angry tears burn his eyes. He owns jackets, and he would be wearing one if he chose
to take a walk outside. And the apartment pool is gated. And covered with a tarp right now. He
wouldn’t be walking anywhere near the fucking pool, anyway.

“I know how other Alphas are, Harry,” Louis tells him with forced calm, standing in front of him
and holding onto his shoulders. “And you, of all people, should know, too. They’re assholes.
They’re awful.”

“But I’m marked,” Harry says, sobbing. “And I’m pregnant--”

“Like that’ll stop them?!” Louis sounds frantic almost. “Seeing you, this gorgeous, pregnant
omega, all on his own, mated or not--”

“--and I couldn’t be more yours,” Harry finishes.

“Yes. Meaning, you’re mine to look after. If something happens to you, and anything could happen
to you without me around--”

“You’re being so paranoid.” Harry doesn’t know what to do with his frustration, so he growls.

“You’re being careless. My answer is no,” he says firmly. He looks at Harry seriously while Harry
looks down at his phone, texting with blurry vision.
Harry shoves his phone in his pocket, shakes himself out of Louis’ grip, and thumps down the hall
to the bedroom. He angrily wipes his eyes.

“Who were you talking to now?” Louis asks, following Harry. “Gemma?”

“Will.” Harry sighs heavily out of his nostrils. “He says he and Calvin can come pick me up.”

“Pick you up to go where?”

“He’s going to a yoga class. Starts in an hour.” Harry rifles through his dresser and haughtily picks
out stretchy pants to change into. He gets an ugly and old t-shirt out, too, figuring there’s no real
point in trying to dress cute. He’s a fucking round lump of lard as it is.

Louis raises his eyebrows. “Calvin’s going to a yoga class?”

“Calvin’s taking Will to a yoga class,” Harry replies dryly. He turns around and takes off his shirt,
replacing it with the new one. It’s big enough to cover his belly and his entire ass, and after he
takes off his pajama pants, he slides his yoga pants on and just as quickly walks out of the room--as
easily as he can with a big belly. He bets he looks ridiculous.

“Who’s watching the baby?”

Harry shrugs. “Probably Calvin.”

“Where’ll Calvin be while you’re in the class?”

“I don’t know, Louis,” Harry says in exasperation, walking down the hall again. “Guarding the
doors, I guess?”

Behind Harry, Louis purses his lips and sighs. “You know I’m right.”

Stop talking, Harry thinks. He finds a hoodie hanging by the front door and shoves it over his head.
“Aren’t you going to work now?”

“I’ll just wait for Cal to get here.”

They sit in silence on the couch. When there’s a knock on the door, Harry gets up, unplugs the
lights on the Christmas tree in front of the living room window, and walks outside without saying
goodbye to Louis. He bypasses Calvin, and while Louis remains inside talking to Cal, Harry walks
downstairs alone to Calvin’s car and gets into the backseat. Beside him is Will’s son, Timothy,
asleep in his carseat. Putting his head in his hands, Harry bursts into tears.

“Whoa, what’s wrong with you?” Will turns around from the front and asks.

“I thought this was supposed to be a happy time in our lives,” Harry says croakily. “But it’s
horrible. All I want to do is punch Louis in his face.” That’s not necessarily true, but in this
moment, it feels like it.

“Aw, that’s just your hormones,” Will says. “Both of you.”

“I don’t care what it is,” Harry snaps, lifting his face and wiping his eyes. “It sucks, and I hate it.
He’s so...he’s so...Ugh.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“Louis’s acting like a complete jerk,” Harry immediately says, venting. “Like, apparently I can’t go
places on my own anymore. Then there’re boxes all over the apartment. Old furniture from the
guest room still in the guest room. Nothing’s set up for a nursery at all. The room isn’t painted or
anything. As if I need more shit to do. I know I don’t work a lot, but I--I really do do a lot of stuff.
Louis’s the one putting off getting the nursery ready, and he’s a fucking slob and leaves crumbs all
over the floor and the counters, and he never sweeps, and he leaves plates all over our room, and
empty water bottles--for God’s sake, if I see one more empty fucking water bottle--and my due
date’s in, like, just over three months!”

“Well, your baby shower’s gonna be in a few weeks, so once you get--”

“Then it’s just gonna feel more cramped.”

“You’re just nesting. I’ll help you get organized after you get all the shower gifts, alright?” Will
soothes. “Try to relax. We’re goin’ to yoga. Focus on your inner lotus flower or whatever. At least
it’s getting you out the apartment.”

Harry finally smiles. Inside, he still feels horrible, though, like he just needs to go take a shower
and have a good cry under the water.

It only gets worse when, before the yoga class starts, Harry takes a call from his dad despite
everything in his brain screaming at him to ignore it after not talking to his dad in probably over a
year. The phone call gives him a lot of tense silence and even more passive-aggressive questions,
the one hitting him the worst being: “Were you just going to let me find out I’m going to be a
grandparent by accidentally running into you at the grocery store one day or something or were
you gonna actually make an effort to tell me? Hopefully it just slipped your mind these past six
months."

Harry doesn’t need this shit. He mumbles a bit to his dad before ending the call, then he texts
Gemma “talked to dad” along with a bunch of frowny faces. She immediately texts back a string of
exclamation points and a “dont give that asshole the time of day, you dont need the stress”.

Harry tries his hardest to calm down during yoga and focus on taking deep breaths in and out. It’s
the worst he’s ever been at the poses, though; his downward dog is stiff, and his upward dog is
now basically impossible. He does manage to do a pretty bitchin’ cat/cow combination, though. He
makes sure to brag to Will about it.

When it’s over and he gets back home, the apartment is empty; Louis’s still at work. Calvin and
Will hang out with Harry in the living room, and they all play with Timothy and watch a Hallmark
Christmas movie together. Harry doesn’t have to ask what’s going on. He knows Louis’d asked
Calvin to stay until he got back.

“I think I’m gonna take a nap,” Harry announces to the room half-way into the movie. It’s too late
to acceptably take a nap, honestly, but he’s pregnant, so no one says anything. “Just...make
yourselves at home.”

Out of defiance, Harry leaves the dirty dishes in the sink. If Louis wants to be mad at him for doing
too much shit, then he can just do it all himself. Apparently, yoga didn’t really give him the sense
of calm he’d been hoping for. He goes to sleep easily, but he goes to sleep upset. And his back
hurts.

It’s dark in the bedroom when something awakens Harry, and when he blinks his eyes, Louis’s
standing by the side of the bed, staring down at him. Harry instinctually reaches up a hand but then
remembers he’s angry with Louis, and he pulls it back to himself. He hates this.
“How you feelin’?” Louis asks quietly. He crouches down next to the bed and runs his hand
through Harry’s hair, pushing it back from his face. It’s nice.

“Fine.”

“Left the theater as early as I could,” Louis tells him softly. “Texted you, but I guess you were
napping. I made you dinner.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Did you already eat?”

Harry shakes his head.

Louis sighs. “Please get up?”

Louis doesn’t really say please that much, so Harry sighs loudly and pushes his heavy body up,
awkwardly getting out of bed and waddling down the hall in front of Louis.

“Got you flowers,” Louis explains as Harry enters the kitchen, even though the fact that he’d
bought them is pretty self-explanatory. A vase filled with water is on the kitchen island, and a
variety of different-colored flowers are shoved inside in a way that appears to have taken a lot of
thought. Harry wipes his tired, itchy eyes before reaching out to touch them. He remains silent,
looking around the room. Louis’s cleaned the kitchen up, and he’s cooked.

Harry looks at the kitchen table. Two plates are already there, and there’s already food on them.
Harry tries not to immediately melt. It’s one of the only fancy meals that Louis knows how to make
perfectly, and it’s...symbolic. It’s stupid, but it’s always been symbolic. It’s their meal.

Traitorously, Harry’s eyes start welling up. He forcefully keeps himself from letting the tears spill,
stubbornly holding onto the last bit of annoyance he’s keeping inside.

“C’mere,” Louis tells Harry as he takes a seat at the table. He pats his thigh, something he always
does to get Harry to sit in his lap. “Sit down with me.”

“I’m huge.”

“You’re not. C’mere,” he says again.

Harry sits down on one of Louis’ legs. Louis immediately wraps his arms around Harry’s waist,
hand settling protectively on his stomach. “Sorry for earlier,” he says.

“Thanks,” Harry says shortly. He doesn’t know if he can let it go just yet, but he likes the effort
Louis’s making.

“I shouldn’t’ve raised my voice at you.”

Harry looks down and nods. “Me, either.”

“Harry...Look at me.”

Harry’s voice breaks almost immediately despite him trying to keep his shit together. “I’ve been
trying really hard, you know. I know I don’t work a lot, and I can’t do a whole lot anymore these
days, but I--I try.” His eyes start to leak.

At that, Louis gathers him in his arms, and it’s just so, so comforting. “Honey, I know. I know you
do,” he whispers. “You’ve been great.”

Harry finally looks at Louis, and Louis begins wiping away his tears. “What’s going on, then?” he
whimpers. “What’s wrong with us?”

“Nothing. There’s nothing wrong with us. It’s me. I just have stuff I need to get through, I guess.”

Harry sniffles. “What stuff?”

“This--this shit goin’ on in my head.” Louis frowns. “I don’t want to add any stress to you, so I’ve
been trying to keep it to myself. Even though I know we said we wouldn’t do that. But I can’t keep
it in anymore though. It’s not healthy.”

“Is it--Do you...Do you not want to have this baby anymore?” Harry asks apprehensively.

“Harry, wh--? Of course I want to have this baby,” Louis replies passionately, disbelieving. “You,
of all people should--Are you kidding? I want this baby more than anything.”

“We didn’t have big fights like this before I got pregnant,” Harry whispers. He sniffs again, and
he’s snotty and gross.

“You sure about that?” Louis asks.

“You know what I mean,” Harry retaliates, not even trying to smile at Louis’ attempt at humor.

Louis takes a deep, audible breath. “I’m your Alpha. You’re having my baby. I want to protect you.
I need to protect you. More now than ever before. Like, it’s non-negotiable. You keep fighting it.”

“I just want more freedom,” Harry admits.

“And I understand that. And I feel like shit that you feel like that. It’s the last thing I ever wanted
for you, not being happy. I don’t want you to feel that you can’t leave when you want or do what
you want to do or be who you are while you’re here.”

“I’m not, like, unhappy. I’m super happy. It’s just I don’t get the feeling you trust me.”

“It’s everybody else I don’t trust. Look, I want to remind you of some stuff, Harry. There are shitty
Alphas in the world. I work with ‘em every day. We grew up with them, had to go to school with
them. They’re everywhere. If certain Alphas want an omega, they will literally do whatever it
takes to get them. You’re marked, you smell like me, we’re true mates--it doesn’t matter to some
Alphas. And now you’re carrying our baby, and...it’s all that I can think about, all the time. But it’s
startin’ to come out where I’m being shitty to you now, and that’s not right at all. I never want you
to be scared of me or something. I don’t want to be that Alpha.”

“I’m not scared of you,” Harry replies, trying to lightheartedly laugh. “I...I just want to get out
more besides the bakery.” He shrugs. “Just...maybe do more for me. That’s literally it. I guess I
feel cooped up in here.”

“That’s, uh. That’s actually what I wanted to bring up.” Louis meets Harry’s eyes. “I…” He sighs.
“I’ve been stalling on getting the nursery painted because...I think it’s time we move.” There’s a
short pause after he says it, and Harry adjusts himself on Louis’ leg. “We always wanted to live in a
house, anyway, right? We always talked about the apartment being just temporary. We just sorta
got used to living here for the past few years. If we had a house...if we had land...It’d be
somewhere that I know you’ll always be safe even if I’m not there. Not so many unfamiliar people
around. More privacy.”
Harry nods. He doesn’t know what to say, so he just says, “Oh.”

“...Do you not want that, too?”

“No, I do,” Harry clarifies quickly. “It’s just...you’re sure you want to move when I’m...almost six
months pregnant?”

Louis sighs. “I know. I don’t want it to be extra stress for you, but I just can’t relax, Haz,” he
admits. “You don’t get it. I can’t fucking calm down at all. I can’t sleep. All I keep thinking about
is--what if someone breaks in? Or what if someone hurts you somehow--or what if something
happens when I’m not here? I feel like the second I walk out the door just to go to campus or to
work, it puts you at risk. There’re too many people around here. Too many threats. Makes me feel
like the shittiest Alpha on the planet.”

“But, babe, you’re not,” Harry tells him. “You’re, like, extremely hard-headed, but besides that…”

“Well, thanks,” Louis softly smiles and responds. “Look, I’ve been thinkin’ about this a lot. We
have eleven weeks until you’re due,” Louis says. “We’ll be pretty crunched to look for houses, find
a house, and move in all in that time. Plus keep you healthy for the baby.”

“Yeah,” Harry agrees.

“So I have sort of a crazy suggestion,” Louis starts. “And you can totally veto it, ‘cause, like I said,
it’s just a suggestion. But what do you think about building a house?”

“Building one?”

“Yeah,” Louis answers. “Buying land...building a house that we can customize.”

“Oh, that’d be awesome,” Harry enthuses. “But wouldn’t that take, like...way longer, though?
Like, a really, really long time?”

“Yeah, so. That’s the thing,” Louis mutters.

“We could stay here while it’s being built?” Harry asks. “That’d be okay. I don’t mind.”

“We could,” Louis slowly says, “but the lease is up for renewal soon. We don’t have the baby’s
room painted yet, and honestly, I hate it here.”

Harry deflates. “You hate it here?”

“Not like that,” Louis replies quickly. “I love being with you and living with you and the memories
here and all that, but...raising a family here? I just don’t see that happening. We need more space.
Safety.”

“What does...that mean then? What are you saying?”

“This is crazy, and I know...I know that it’s gonna sound crazy,” Louis mutters. “But what do you
think about goin’ back to my mom’s place while we get all this straightened out?” He asks the
question quickly and winces after he finishes.

“To live?”

“...Yeah.” He keeps his eyes diverted for a long time, and when he finally looks at Harry, it’s with
a hesitation Harry’s not used to.
In confusion, Harry looks at Louis. “Why’re you actin’ like I’m gonna be mad at that idea or
something?”

“‘Cause after living alone for so long...I mean, going back to my mom’s house. All the people, the
kids...after living by ourselves for so long. I don’t want you to hate it. Another option is to renew
the lease here, which is fine, since we’re already here, but--”

“But your mom’s house is huge. There’s tons of room to breathe there even if there’re lots of
people. And think about all the helpers. First-time parents, Lou. We’ll need all the help we can
get,” Harry adds on.

“Yeah,” Louis agrees. “That’s what I was thinking, too. We won’t be alone anymore for a while,
but we’d still be private enough, and there’d be protection. And they already knocked down the
wall in your old room there to open it up to the little room beside it, like a nook, and they said we
could fix it up and paint it however we like, and that way the bedroom’ll be big enough for both of
us, and then the nursery can be the little nook thing. I know it’s not--”

“Awww,” Harry gushes, finally feeling better inside. “You’ve already talked to them about it?”

“Just as a suggestion,” Louis admits. “You’re really not upset if we do that?”

“Not at all,” Harry beams and answers. “Our own house. Custom-built.”

“Custom-built by us,” Louis repeats, “and custom-designed by Harry Tomlinson.”

“Psht.”

“No, really,” Louis says, and he tightens his hold on Harry. “I’m giving you free reign. Man,
Mom’s gonna flip when I tell her we’re gonna move in again. She’s missed having a baby around.
Loves ‘em.”

“Oh, really,” Harry mutters. “I had no clue.”

Finally looking actually relaxed and happy, Louis smiles his carefree, crinkly-eyed smile. He
kisses Harry, and the burn and tickle from his beard couldn't be more welcome.

"I wish you would've told me you were having trouble sleeping," Harry murmurs, running his
fingers along Louis' face, scratching his beard.

Louis shrugs. "Trying to protect you from worrying."

"You can't keep stuff from me just 'cause it's not pleasant," Harry says.

"I know, I know. I'm working on it, I swear." Louis kisses the tip of Harry's nose.

Reluctantly, Harry tells Louis about his conversation with his dad.

"I know I shouldn't have even answered," he says once he's done sharing what was said during the
phone call.

"That everloving fucking cunt," Louis growls, hands in tight fists now.

"Whoa, colorful choice of words, there, Lou."

Louis' eyes are pained when he looks up at Harry again. "I know he's your biological father, so for
that reason, I'm sorry I said that out loud. I'm not sorry for feeling it, though." He heavily sighs, his
 chest almost rumbling so that Harry can hear it. "This is what I'm talking about. Your own fucking
father treating you like that."

"Baby, you can't control it, though. He'll never change."

It's silent between them while they softly just gaze at one another. Finally, Louis speaks.

"I know I can't always protect you from the bad stuff, but I'll always be here trying to. And...if I get
out of line, just tell me." He shakes his head at himself. "I'm so fucking sorry. I don't ever want to
be like your dad."

"You're nothing like my dad."

Louis looks out into the distance of the room. Hand on Harry's stomach, he goes on, "I don't ever
want you or our baby to ever think I don't love you."

"Louis...of course not. I don't."

Looking back to Harry, Louis nods. Harry's surprised to see his eyes look kind of wet.

"Louis, baby--I know you love me. I love you, too. So much."

Louis rubs his face with his hands. "That's enough emotion for one day, I think, don't you?"

Harry gently gets off Louis' lap. "These are my usual days now, Lou, all sorts of emotions all over
the place, all the time." He smirks. "Except the arguing-with-you part."

Louis makes a wry face. "Yeah, let's not do that again," he says. "Let's keep on with the happy
pregnancy hormones."

"The happy happy hormones."

"Yeah, those."

Chapter End Notes

I'm sort of giving myself author's rights to this pregnancy timeline since my notes are
in another desk i dont have access to and I'm quarantined and dont want to redo my
work all over again. So...hey just go with it and enjoy the story !
 Chapter 5
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Nineteen and Twenty-Two, January

From his spot on the bed, Harry watches as Louis hurriedly hops into his pants by his closet. The
sound of his belt-buckle clanks throughout the bedroom as he pulls his jeans up. His legs are so
bulky with muscle that it’s a struggle getting them up his thighs.

“I could head out alone real quick so you can get some more sleep,“ Harry suggests. “I can ask
Zayn and Gemma to try and meet me there. Really.”

Quickly pulling on a hoodie, Louis just says, “Harry,” and that word alone--just his name--gives
Harry his answer. There’s no way he’s missing Harry’s first prenatal class. Even if they’re running
late.

Harry smiles, obviously pleased that Louis’s so invested in going with him, especially after he’d
spent so long having misplaced resentment towards Louis for not wanting to get Olivia’s nursery
set up. At the same time, though...The reason they’re running late is because they’d napped too
long and overslept their alarm. Louis’s basically catching up on four months’ worth of sleepless
nights lately as it is, and after Christmas, they’re both super tired.

“You get that we’re about to move in just a few days, right?” Harry asks. He’s learned that if he
sits at the edge of the bed in a certain way and twists his foot up on the knee of his other leg, he can
put his shoes on easier. Still, he grunts as he shoves his foot inside his favorite pair of boots. With
the tight leggings he’s got on paired with his long sweater, he doesn’t look half-bad, even if he just
woke up five minutes ago.

Louis smirks as he looks in the mirror over their dresser to quickly fix his hair. “I do.”

“And that you’re about to start your last semester of college?”

“I do.”

“And that we’re about to have a baby?”

Louis gasps. “Are we? Thought you’ve just been a bit bloated lately.”

Harry rolls his eyes and forces his lips to stay closed so he doesn’t give Louis the pleasure of
laughing at his stupid joke. He’s being serious here. Trying to. He pats the spot next to him on the
bed. “Sit down for a second.”

Now fully dressed in black jeans, a big green hoodie, and converse, Louis takes a seat. Harry
stretches back in order to put his foot on Louis’ lap, and Louis wordlessly begins to tie the laces of
his boot. When he’s done, he slides to the floor, sits up on his knees, and ties the other one.

“I know what you’re about to say.”

While Louis’s still crossing Harry’s laces, Harry seeks out his eyes. They have that sunken-in
appearance they get when he’s either sick or exhausted, plus he’s looking kind of pale today, too.
“Still gonna say it. Please don’t do too much. Please. I don’t want you wearing yourself out.”

“Isn’t that my line?”

Louis stays on the ground for a bit, staring up at Harry, then he stands up. He reaches out to tuck
some fallen hair behind Harry’s ear.

“You’re crazy if you think anything to do with this baby is ever gonna be too much. It’s…She’s...”
He looks down to Harry’s stomach and touches it.

Softly, Harry looks up at Louis. Louis just as softly looks back. “Everything,” Harry supplies.

“Everything,” Louis repeats. “Come on, baby,” he says next, holding out a hand for Harry. “We
can still make it on time if we leave now.”

On the way to the omega center, Louis tries to keep his cussing-at-bad-drivers to a minimum,
saying that he’s gotta train himself not to curse in front of his baby. Instead, he sings along with
Harry to lingering Christmas songs still playing on the radio while Harry pulls his hair back in a
bun. Some tendrils of curl still fall out the front.

Approaching the same building they’ve been entering for months now, Louis takes Harry’s hand
once they get out of the car, his other one holding a can of Red Bull he’d brought along, and after
stepping inside, an omega greets them at the door.

“Hey, Skye,” Louis greets her, familiar with all the staff, having known most of them since he was
a child when his mother let him come to work with him. “We’re here for the male childbirth class.”

“Hope we’re not too late,” Harry tacks on.

“Excellent,” Skye happily says. “No, no, I think Rob is still waiting on a few more back there, so
you’re fine.” She beams at Harry who smiles brightly back. He may not have known her for as
long as Louis has, but he’s gotten very familiar with her during his pregnancy, and she’s the
brightest, most optimistic person Harry’s probably ever met. “Did you two have a good
Christmas?”

“Definitely,” Harry answers, and they make short small-talk about everything they’ve been up to:
presents, presents, presents; the impromptu pregnancy photo session at Louis’ parents’ house in
front of the Christmas tree; the caroling with Louis’ siblings (minus Fizzie and Lottie who decided
it was too lame, but they missed a stellar performance); baking cookies with Harry’s mom, Robin,
and Gemma; and then, of course, Louis’ birthday!

“The only cooler thing would’ve been if it snowed,” Harry finishes with, “but maybe we’ll get
some soon.”

“Let’s hope not,” Skye replies. “I’m ready for summer. Bring on the warm weather, I say.”

She escorts them through a secure door, then another off to the right. Harry is familiar enough with
the building to understand that the birthing wing is locked and closed off to the public. Still, even
as Louis and Harry start walking towards the right, anguished sounds can still be heard from the
rooms beyond.

“Busy today?” Louis asks.

“Not really,” Skye answers. “The whole hall was filled during the full moon last week, though. It
was pretty noisy.”
“Oh, wow,” Harry mutters.

“You should’ve seen it. Before they left, we wrapped up all the babies in red and green blankets
and took a picture with them wearing little stocking hats. There were eight total! Absolutely
adorable.”

“Aw. Well, Christmas babies are the best,” Louis comments, grinning.

Harry chuckles. “True.”

They keep walking. “Hey, is my mom working tonight?”

“She was here earlier,” Skye answers. “If I see her, I’ll tell her you’re here.”

Skye approaches a medium-sized, dim-lit room in the very back of the center filled with couches
and chairs, and she pauses outside it. There are only a few other people in there. “This is it. Rob’s
the instructor tonight--you remember him, right, Harry?”

Harry nods. Sometimes Rob handles Harry’s appointments when Louis’ mother isn’t available, and
sometimes he joins the examination room just to assist. Harry likes him, too. He’s had a baby
recently, too, and he gives Harry super helpful advice. There isn’t really anyone who works here
that he doesn’t care for; the entire place has such a laid-back new age vibe that it’d be hard to feel
anything negative at all while inside the building.

“Awesome,” says Skye. “Alright, guys, sit where you’d like. There’s a kitchen to the side here with
drinks and snacks you can help yourself to. Have fun!”

Harry smiles. “Thanks!”

He and Louis go to the kitchen and load up a plate with cheese, crackers, and fruit, and when they
go back into the “classroom”, other couples have started to arrive and are sitting down in various
places. Harry glances around. His stomach easily looks the largest in the room.

All in all, there’s four other mated couples besides Louis and Harry who arrive for the class. Harry
makes polite small-talk with the others in attendance, asking how far along they are and things like
that, and he quickly learns that he’s the largest in the room because he’s the latest in his
pregnancy. Something inside him is pleased at that. He knows he can’t win at pregnancy, but still,
he’s happy that he’s the most pregnant of all the people here.

This class is only for pregnant men because typically, females have theirs separately. Harry’s
heard of some progressive places having childbirth classes for both pregnant females and pregnant
males together, but it’s not really common since things happen a little differently between the two.
It’s also not common for Betas to come to these classes at all, either pregnant or not; there’s a
stigma that they’re only for omegas. The stereotype lives on tonight: all five of the pregnant men,
Harry included, are omegas, and all of their mates are Alphas--three males and two females.

It’s all good, though. Harry feels comfortable and natural being around the other pregnant omegas,
even though their mates (Louis included) keep them seated a good distance away from the other
Alphas, making them kind of have to shout across the room to talk.

Rob, the instructor, enters the room moments later wearing loose sweatpants and a long, colorful
shirt, his four-month old baby snug to his chest in some tight, complicated-looking stretchy wrap
thing. He greets every omega with an individual hug and starts the class by exclaiming, “I’m so
happy to see all of you here! Babies are a big deal!”
Louis gives Harry a look which Harry interprets as some joke he’s trying to make with his eyes
about this guy’s over-enthusiasm, but Harry just grins, puts his hands on his stomach, and relaxes
into Louis’ side.

“Now, we don’t have any Betas here this evening, do we?” Rob asks, almost like he knows the
answer by scent but doesn’t want to be rude, and everyone looks around and shakes their heads.
“Just wanted to be sure. Okay, so this’ll be totally Alpha/omega based, cool. Well, I’m Rob, if you
guys don’t already know me, which I think all of you do, sorry if I hugged you without knowing
you, but I’m a hugger, so anyway, welcome to the first in a five-part series of male childbirth
lessons!”

The class ends up mainly starting off like an A/B/O class in high school but for adults, and Harry
likes it because Rob doesn’t sugarcoat anything like his teachers always did when he was younger.
He mainly reacquaints everyone with the birth process from start to finish, bringing out detailed
diagrams and charts and everything, and then he goes into the importance of establishing comfort
measures during each stage of labor. Rob then shifts to the side and aims a remote towards the
television beside him. It turns on and shows a bright, blue screen.

“We’re gonna watch pretty vivid childbirth videos in here, in case anyone was wondering,” Rob
says, a little smile in his voice as he looks around for any weary-looking Alphas. “Not tonight,
though.”

Harry looks to Louis; he seems completely at ease, not fazed in the slightest.

“Alright, Alphas, it’s important that you relax your mates while they’re in labor, but it’s just as
important that you can relax yourself first. Your omega really is going to rely on you, so you’ve got
to stay in control of yourself before anything else.” He presses a button on the remote, and a video
starts playing of a super pregnant man lying down in bed with his mate beside him. “Alphas, pay
attention to the first section here to see the instincts you’ll feel when--wait, anybody here not first-
time parents?” Rob pauses the movie and asks.

Once again, everyone looks around at one another and shakes their head, smiling.

“Okay, great,” Rob goes on. “Alphas, pay attention to the first part of this video. Take note of what
happens.”

The lights dim even more, and as Rob steps to the back of the room to nurse his now-awake baby,
Harry watches the video. It starts with the omega going into labor and his Alpha mate frantically
running around--calling people, packing the car, driving quickly on the road. Normal take-charge
Alpha stuff. As the car he’s driving skids to a stop outside the hospital, the scene stops and begins
in the bedroom again, the replay now depicting a more peaceful reaction from the Alpha. This
time, when the omega starts having contractions, the Alpha speaks in hushed tones, walks him
slowly to his car, and is calm but sure about everything.

Rob pauses the television. “This is a childbirth class mainly focused on the birth- giver, but I show
this to everyone because, Alphas, you’re not helping anyone if you can’t control your basic urges
to be quick with everything, to win at everything, to fix everything. All of that will come up once
labor starts because it’s only natural. But I’m here to remind you that birth is a process. It’s slow.
Even though the omega in this video was being loud--and that’ll happen, especially towards the
more advanced stages of labor--the second clip really showed how Alphas can really be helpful by
not feeding into that stress. So keep that in mind.”

Adjusting the baby against his chest, Rob turns on a few lamps to brighten the room again. “We’ll
watch more of the video next week, and then a few others, to really get you guys familiar with
what really to expect, but now, let’s go through some guided relaxation techniques for the omegas.
Alphas, you do them, too, because like I said, it’s important you know how to get in a good
headspace when labor begins, too.”

At Rob’s instruction, the class takes a collective seat on the floor--all Alphas behind their omegas,
cradling their stomachs--and they practice breathing patterns, visualizations, and guided
meditations along with some soft music. Harry almost falls back asleep, he’s so relaxed. He stays
floating in some kind of airy state of mind for the rest of the class and even throughout the drive
home. Actually, he thinks he’s spacy for the rest of the evening entirely. He remembers sitting on
the couch with Louis, melting into his side, and he remembers Louis’ fingers in his hair, and he
remembers eating, and taking a bath, and going to bed, but all of it has felt like he’s been humming
along on some rainbow-frequency, just vibing from an awesome meditation.

“Did you take your vitamins today?” Louis asks later that night in bed, well after their break-down
of the class and how humorous Louis found the instructor to be, well after the television’s already
been turned off, and well after Harry’s already drifting off to sleep.

Harry grunts out some sort of questionable noise, and Louis repeats himself. “You took your
vitamins today, right?”

“Yeah, Lou.”

It’s quiet again for a bit, and Harry’s breath again evens out to again match the expansion of Louis’
chest he feels behind him.

Harry’s almost asleep again when Louis whispers another question. “Are you nervous at all about
delivery?”

“Hm?”

“Sorry. Go to sleep, baby.”

Harry taps Louis’ hand that’s resting on his bump. He keeps his eyes closed but still asks, “No,
what’d you say?”

“Are you nervous? About giving birth?”

Harry blinks in the darkness as he thinks for a long time. “I’m...not looking forward to the pain.
But I think I can handle it. Omegas have been doing it forever.”

It’s quiet for a while once more, and Harry almost thinks that Louis’s finally gone to sleep.

“Are you nervous?” Harry asks in a quiet voice. Judging from Louis’ heavy and even breathing, he
expects no answer.

“Just want you to be okay,” Louis whispers. “Both of you.”

In another chapter of his life that involves moving into Louis’ mom’s house, Harry spends the next
few days packing and labeling boxes since that’s all he really can do. The actual physical moving
part is done by Louis and a group of other strong volunteers. Harry jokes that there must be some
code amongst Alphas that when there’s moving to be done, it’s a community-affair. Niall comes
out to carry heavy boxes from the apartment into the pickup truck Calvin comes over with, Louis’
mom and uncle James move heavy furniture into storage units, and surprisingly even Ed, who’s in
town for the holidays and wanted to see Harry in person, takes time out of his now-crazy-busy
schedule to help out. All of them together haul the multiple loads of boxes to Louis’ childhood
home, and before Harry knows it, the room he used to sleep in when living with Louis is full again-
-this time not just with his belongings, but with Louis’ stuff, too. Their stuff.

In a way, it’s ironic that he’s back here. All those long nights spent in this room dreaming of Louis,
of being with him like he is now...and it’s come true. He’s having his baby. Alone in the room after
the last box has been delivered, he lets out some laugh that comes out strangely because his throat
has tightened up.

Over Christmas break, Louis’ dad turned the bedroom into a true little suite. James had already
knocked down part of the wall on one side of the room to make the smaller, previously unused
room next to it a little adjoining nook, but Austin gave the rooms some cosmetic updates since
then, including ripping up the carpet to show off the original hardwood underneath, replacing the
old-school bedroom door, and adding a new light fixture on the ceiling with a fan. Austin painted
everything since then, too--a very soft, muted yellow for the nook and a fresh coat of ivory for
where Louis and Harry will sleep--and all that’s left is for Harry to unpack their stuff and make
little homes for everything.

On the day they finally have to give their keys back to the property manager of the apartment
complex, it’s super sad for Harry to say goodbye to their neighbors, especially Harriet. Even the
property manager herself gets a little teary.

“You two have been some of the best tenants we’ve ever had here,” she says, “and I’m genuinely
sad to see you go.”

“I know,” Harry tells her, trying to not get emotional right there along with her. “We really are,
too.”

“At first we were really hesitant renting out a unit to such young folks, but you two have really
shattered our stereotypes of your generation.”

Louis rolls his eyes behind her back so that only Harry can see, and Harry clears his throat.

“Thanks. I made cookies for you,” Harry tells her, holding out a big container. “‘Cause I know the
macadamia nut ones are your favorite, I made extras of those. But there’s chocolate chip in here,
too.”

“You are such a sweetheart, Harry. Well, good luck with everything,” she says, even opening her
arms to hug Harry. She shakes Louis’ hand. “Come by anytime, seriously. We’d love to have you
back. I mean it! I want to see the little one when she gets here.”

Harry nods at her, and that’s it.

As he and Louis walk to their car to drive away for good, Harry starts crying despite his best
efforts not to, and Louis puts his hand on the small of Harry’s back. Harry feels it despite his large
coat, and it’s grounding. “It’s alright, hon. It’s alright.”

Louis hugs him outside his Audi until Harry calms down.

“Talk to me,” Louis says after they’ve been sitting in his car for a few moments, waiting for it to
warm up.

Harry’s not crying anymore, but he stares out through the windshield for a long, long time. “This is
the first place we lived alone together.”

“Lots of good memories here,” Louis echoes.

“Yeah,” Harry just says.

Louis reaches out and puts a hand on Harry’s leg. “Imagine what it’ll be like having a house
together, then, babe. A real big house. Just ours. Our kids filling it.”

Harry nods quickly and wipes his nose. The idea of filling a house with kids makes him warm
inside. “Yeah.”

“We’re gonna make even more memories where we’re going. My mom’s house is just a pit-stop.
Once we build a house, we can raise our babies from the time they’re little and stay there forever.
It’ll be amazing.”

“I know,” Harry tells him. “It’ll all be great. I’m happy, really. I’ll just miss it here.”

“You’re always saying home is a feeling, anyway.”

“I know.” Harry smiles. “I’m happy. Really, I am.”

“You’re still worried about something,” Louis presses.

“Just--no one here ever visits Harriet. I was literally the only one, and I got her mail for her, and
made sure her plants that she keeps on her patio are watered when she’s in the hospital for long
stays, and I just. I just think she’s gonna be really lonely now.”

Louis just stares at Harry in amusement, like that’s the last thing that Harry should be worrying
about, so Harry indignantly mumbles, “Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Louis innocently replies, squeezing Harry’s knee before removing it in
order to start driving off. “Hey--we’re only moving fifteen minutes away, Haz. We can still visit
here anytime. Apparently the property manager is in love with you and wants you to visit
whenever you can, anyway.”

Harry chuckles. “I’m a kickass baker who gives her free cookies. Of course she’s in love with me.”

“Morning, Family!” Louis calls out. He jumps on the couch in between Lottie, Phoebe, and Daisy,
making Daisy crack up and scoot over for him and causing Lottie to make a shrill noise of
annoyance. It’s his first real weekend of living back in the house, and, well. Some things never
change.

“Louis, you ass,” Lottie says, holding up her mug. “You almost made me spill my coffee.”
“Watch your mouth in front of your younger siblings,” Louis chides breezily. “Gosh, what a bad
influence.”

“Not even gonna comment on that,” Lottie mutters.

“I am great with kids,” Louis counters, reaching out to tickle Daisy, making her cackle again.
They’re in the family room, and it’s perfectly cozy--Christmas tree still up, presents littering the
floor, television on in the background, window curtains open to the dim January morning outside.
A general mess, really, but it brings to Louis a deep-set feeling of a home well lived-in, one that
he’ll one day mimic on his own.

“Well, I’d hope so, seeing as you’re having one.”

Louis ignores Lottie in order to tickle Phoebe now, who protests but giggles and grins enough to let
Louis know she’s loving it.

“Glad you finally shaved that thing off your face,” Lottie comments.

Louis rubs his jaw. “Had to clean up for the big day.”

“Keep it like that. You look better. Now if you’d just cut your hair.”

“Don’t really care what you think,” Louis breezily answers. “Only my mate’s opinion really
matters.”

“You can’t tell me Harry honestly prefers you with a beard.”

Louis shrugs. “I’d like to say he prefers me any way he can get me.”

Lottie sticks out her tongue in disgust before taking a sip of coffee. “Anyway, he just left with his
mom to go get ready. Told him to just stay here. I could’ve done his hair and stuff upstairs. The
shower decorations would still be a surprise, you know?”

“Yeah, but his mom’s taking him to get a pedicure or something while we decorate here, so.” Louis
shrugs again. “And who would trust you with their hair and makeup, anyway?” he asks, and he’s
already leaning away from her swat to the arm before she even has time to go through with it.

“I know I wear a lot of makeup, but I’d put it on Harry so you wouldn’t even be able to tell. It’d
just enhance his glow.”

“Whatever you say, Lots,” Louis just comments, smirking in his annoying big-brother way. “Harry
doesn’t need makeup.”

“I didn’t say he did,” Lottie replies, placing her mug on the coffee table in front of the sofa. “So
what all do we have to do here again?”

“Streamers, balloons....tablecloths. Then Gemma’s coming over a little later with other decorations
and maybe prizes for games or something? I don’t know how baby showers work. But she’s got
that stuff covered, and Mom’s got the food and cake and stuff taken care of. I’m just gonna blow
up a shit-ton of balloons.”

Lottie lightly punches Louis’ arm. “Watch your mouth. Such a bad influence.”

“A crap-ton of balloons,” Louis amends, uselessly covering up Daisy’s ears since she’s sitting
closest to him.
“How many people are coming, anyway?”

Louis thinks. “Mm…Like...maybe forty people.”

“Forty people?!”

“Yeah,” Louis replies. “It’s gonna be co-dynamic or whatever, not just omegas. I don’t know. I just
went along with who Harry wanted to invite.”

“And you’re sure he said he didn’t want to do this at an actual venue?”

“We asked him if that’s what he wanted, and he said he didn’t care. Now that we’re living here,
though, I think he definitely wants it to be here so he can immediately take all his presents into the
nursery and put them up. He wants it ready, like, yesterday.”

“He has it looking real nice back there already.”

“Yeah,” Louis agrees.

“I’m sure you helped tons.”

Louis grins. “Oh, you know it.”

And that’s not even a lie. In the week since they’ve moved in, Harry has unpacked all of the boxes
from their apartment, and all of their belongings are already either put away, hanging up, or
situated atop a surface just so. But every single time Harry changed his mind about where
something should go, it’s been up to Louis to hang it in a new spot, or move it to a new location, or
generally just follow any instruction Harry made. And if that meant moving their dresser to a new
wall only to move it back to where it was to start with, then that’s what he did. And he won’t ever
admit to Harry how god-awful long it took to finally assemble the crib, but with the help of just
about every other adult in the house, he completed that, too.

Their bedroom is a bit of a downgrade, but that’s alright. They used to have two separate closets,
and now with just one, Harry’s gotten creative in storage techniques. Every square inch of their
closet is utilized somehow, from the very bottom where he has some meticulous shoe-system for
all of Louis’ sneakers, to the very top where there are blankets and hoodies and, in the very back
corner, his heat kit.

After organizing or cleaning or moving something to a spot Harry deems as “better”, each of their
nights since they’ve moved in have been spent lying in bed either going through blueprints of
houses or searching for nearby land for sale. Harry’s gotten into his songwriting again, as well, so
on certain nights, Louis has been doing his research alone while Harry writes next to him.

Louis’s damn happy.

He zones out to the cartoons Phoebe and Daisy are watching before he ultimately looks around. He
knows his mom and Austin are out with the younger twins for errands and then to pick up food for
the party, but he doesn’t know where everyone else is. “Where’s Fiz? Sleepin’ in?”

“Up in her room, I guess.” Lottie rolls her eyes.

“What? Why the eye roll?” Louis asks. He’s behind on all the family drama lately despite talking
to his mom all the time. He doesn’t know what everyone’s been getting up to.

“She’s so moody lately. Just stays up there alone listening to music all the time.”
Louis hums. “Middle school’s a fun age, isn’t it?”

“Uh, no.”

Louis chuckles and stands up. School for everyone else just started back up this week, but he’s
glad his semester won’t begin again for another ten days. “C’mon, help me decorate,” he tells
everyone on the couch. “Let’s get it knocked out.”

“You start decorating,” Lottie says over the groans of Phoebe and Daisy. “I’ve gotta shower and
get dressed and do my hair and--”

Louis holds up his hand. “Jesus.”

Ultimately, Louis opts to eat cereal, shower, and wait until Lottie’s finished primping before he
starts anything, and by that time it’s mid-morning and his parents and uncles are back with three
previously missing kids in tow. An eight year-old wearing a Batman shirt comes in first (“Hey,
Con-Man,” Louis greets his nephew with a high-five and says) followed by two four-year olds, one
with curly, doll-baby hair, and the other with a mop of shiny, perfectly straight locks.

For them, Louis crouches down and spreads open his arms. Doris and Ernest run into him, and he
wraps them both up in a hug before kissing them both on the head.

“My babies, my babies, oh, how I’ve missed you.” He’d just seen them last night, but whatever. He
gets to live with them again now, so he’s taking advantage of it while he can.

“Not a baby,” Ernest giggles.

“I forgot. You’re in preschool now.”

Ernest nods excitedly.

“Me, too!” Doris says.

“Yes, you, too,” Louis’ mom says, breezing in. She’s carrying trays of food. Louis stands and takes
them from her. Walking to the kitchen island, he deposits them.

“Thanks,” says Jay. “I got it from here, though. Austin’s coming with the cake...We’ll get all the
plates set up...Louis, you can get working on the balloons. I’ve got a helium machine out in the
garage.”

“Oh, sweet,” Louis says. “Thought I’d have to blow ‘em all myself.”

Louis laughs at what he’s just said, looking around for Harry to smirk at, but there’s no Harry
there. No one else thinks what he’s just said is funny, so he frowns. “Okay, Lots, can you do the
streamer stuff?” Louis asks his sister who’s standing off to the side.

Lottie’s looking on her phone, so Louis walks in front of her and snaps in front of her face. “Hey,
can you do the streamers?”

“Yes,” she says in irritation. She lifts up the pink and gold packages on the table in front of her.
“Give me a minute, chill.”

Louis grabs a box of balloons and heads for the garage.

“Oh, Louis,” his mom calls after him. “Don’t use too much helium. Just a small amount. We don’t
want them looking huge. And the weights for them are out in my car if you could go get them
while you’re in the garage.”

“Yes, Mother.”

“I wanna help!” Doris follows after Louis and yells.

“I wan’ help! I help!” hollers out Ernest.

Louis pauses and turns around. “Okay, I have an idea.”

He goes to the garage alone after a bit of whining from his siblings at abandoning them--they’re at
such a whiny stage, and Louis doesn’t think he’s ready for that with his own child yet--and brings
the helium machine into the house along with a bunch of weighted circle-things that he’ll tie to the
end of each balloon string. In the foyer, he gets the rest of his stuff ready: balloons, string, and tape.

“Alright, big D,” Louis tells Doris. “You’re gonna be my big helper today.”

“I’m not big!” she retaliates.

“Yes, you are.”

“No, I’m notttt,” she squeals and says. “I’m litttttle. I’m an ant!”

“You are so incredibly silly,” Louis just mumbles as she continues laughing.

“I be your helper, too!” Ernest pulls at Louis’ shirt and shouts.

“Easy E, my man!” Louis says excitedly. “Of course you’re gonna be my helper, too, buddy.”

“What are we doin’?” Ernest asks. “Baby Storm?”

“Shower,” Louis corrects. “It’s like we’re showering Harry with gifts.”

“Like rain.”

“Just like rain.”

“But he get wet,” Doris says, cackling.

“You are so silly,” Louis says again, shaking his head.

“Where is him?” Ernest asks.

“Harry? He’s with his mom, Miss Anne,” Louis answers.

“Why?”

“Getting pretty for his party,” Louis answers. “So we’re gonna decorate because that’s what you do
for parties.”

“It’s a party for ‘Livia?”

“Yup. She’s gonna be your niece.”

“I wanna do somefing,” Doris says, pulling at Louis’ shirt, too. “What can I do?”

“Okay, love, see this machine?” Louis asks. “I need to put the balloons on this piece here, see?
Then I press a button and they fill with air. Do you think you could put the balloons on there for
me to blow up?”

“Yeah!”

“And you can hold the string, bub,” Louis tells Ernest. “After the balloon’s filled, I gotta tie it, then
we have to put string on it, then we gotta put these gold weights on the string so it doesn’t fly all
the way up to the ceiling. It’s a bunch of steps, so I really need you guys.”

“‘Kay.”

The process is almost disastrous, the kids hindering way more than helping due to their fear of the
noise from the helium machine, but it turns out to be easier when they give up on helping to just
chase around balloons that Louis blows for them with his mouth.

Louis’s horrible at decorating, so thankfully Gemma comes by early and helps Lottie and Jay
spruce up the kitchen, foyer, and living room, leaving Louis to just walk around and touch things as
his way of trying to appear helpful. The house looks really, really nice in no time, everything
colored gold and soft-pink. It’s a mixture of fancy (the balloon arch and backdrop for a huge
photography area in the den) and down-home (all the mismatched chairs sitting out in the living
room). Before Louis knows it, guests start arriving with huge presents. He doesn’t know how these
things work, so he just hangs out in the foyer to greet people, waiting for his perfect mate to arrive.

At first it’s just Harry’s family members and then some of Louis’ family--the early crowd--and it’s
nice to catch up with them. Then friends start arriving, filling up the kitchen area where they eat
and drink and soon make the house lively with chatter and laughter.

Louis’s right by the front door when Liam comes in, looking completely out of place with a
random brunette woman holding a present beside him. He’s got a stupid face and such stupid hair,
but he’s been a good friend to Harry in the past, and Louis doesn’t really have to deal with him all
that much anymore, so he’s easier to handle in small doses. Louis fixes his face in a bit of a smile
and approaches him, giving him a little handshake-hug thing.

“Thanks for coming, man,” he says. “I know Harry’ll be happy you’re here.”

“Yeah, man,” Liam answers. “Wouldn’t miss it.” He briefly introduces the omega next to him who
politely smiles, and Louis steps aside to let them go inside.

Harry comes in about ten minutes after the last guest has arrived, and people cheer good-naturedly
as he steps inside the foyer and takes off his coat. Louis will never get tired of throwing parties for
this omega. His smile is big enough to cover half his face just watching him look around at all the
decorations.

(He always does that.)

(He’s always so appreciative no matter what.)

(Louis won’t ever stop spoiling him.)

Unlike during Harry’s last get-together, Louis manages to keep his Alpha in check and doesn’t stay
glued to Harry’s side this time. Though there are many people here, Louis feels a bigger sense of
security for once, almost like instead of everyone around being a threat to Harry, they’re almost
like a source of protection for him. He doesn’t even step in when Harry’s belly gets touched for the
tenth time. Not that he’s been watching through the crowd, counting the instances.
Then a thought occurs to him. He politely interrupts a conversation Harry’s having with his uncle
from Pennsylvania to quietly ask, “You don’t want me to get these people to stop, do you?”

“Huh?”

“Touching your bump.”

Harry looks down at his stomach. “Wh--No, Lou, it’s okay.”

“It’s not bothering you?”

“No, babe. They’re just trying to feel her kick. She’s moving all around in there today.” Harry
softly smiles. “Does it bother you?”

“Yes, but it’s not my stomach,” Louis honestly answers. He shakes his head at himself. “Whatever,
just tell me if you want it to stop, and I’ll get it to stop. That’s all.”

Louis starts walking away, feeling like his work concerning that non-issue is done, trying not to
ruin Harry’s fun by being an over-protective dipshit, when a hand pulling on the sleeve of his shirt
stops him. Louis turns around. Harry keeps pulling until Louis’s in front of him again, and then
Harry slightly leans down. He kisses Louis, and Louis feels through the bond how content he is,
and Louis smiles until his lips flatten out and render the kiss ineffective. Harry smiles back at him,
pursing his lips to peck Louis one more time, and that’s nice.

“You wanna feel her kick?”

Louis rests his hand on Harry’s stomach, right at the center. Harry moves Louis’ hand to the left a
little, then presses it in just a tiny bit. For a second, both of their hands are touching, and Louis
stares at the rings on both their fingers.

“You won’t hurt her,” Harry assures. “Press there. She’s moving around.”

Just like all the other times he’s felt Olivia kick, Louis’ whole world stops for a second when he
feels a tiny jab hit his palm, and he takes a deep breath.

“Think she’s hungry?” Louis asks.

Harry nods, grinning. “I am, so--sure, she must be, too.” He giggles, and it’s fucking cute. Louis
leans up and kisses him for the hell of it.

“Good. Go eat something. I got Mom to buy, like, five bags of those vinegar chips you’ve been
craving.”

“Aww, yeah. That’s what I’m talkin’ about.” Harry rubs his stomach and heads off into the
kitchen.

Louis loses track of what all happens next. There are a bunch of games played, some with toilet
paper and others with pen and paper and then another with songs or something, but it seems that
for most of them, only the omegas participate. It gives Louis a chance to chat with people and try to
be useful and make sure the punch bowl is refilled and stuff.

“He’s doing a home birth?” Oli leans over the kitchen island and asks, eyes wide when Louis
answers his question about what their birth-plan is. Louis’s dumping the content of a bag of chips
out on a tray.
Louis nods. “Yeah, that’s what he wants.”

“So that means no pain meds at all, right?”

“Nope.”

Oli gasps. “That’s the most insane thing I’ve ever heard.”

“What can I say, Harry’s a masochist,” Louis jokes. He gets a small handful of Doritos and starts
snacking on them.

“So, I’ve always wondered...What will that do to you, then?” Calvin asks, hovering over a tray of
peanuts he keeps throwing in his mouth. “Watching him be in pain like that and there’s nothing
you can do?”

“I mean, yeah, it...sounds unpleasant, but I’m there if he needs me for anything.”

Calvin grimaces. “Will fucking screamed so loud when he was in labor that they heard him in the
next room over, probably the one next to that one, too. And that was with medicine.”

Louis makes a face. He thinks about all the childbirth classes they’ve been going to, though, and all
the extra resources Rob has given them, and he relaxes again. He’s confident that they’ve got this.
He’s confident that Harry, at least, has got this. It’s his body doing all the work.

“How’re things with Will?” Louis asks. The implication of his question is obvious.

Cal shrugs. “It’ll happen when it happens. He wants to be pregnant at the same time Harry is so
bad.”

“I’m sure he already is,” Oli murmurs.

Calvin drops his mouth. “What?”

Oli flounders. “I just meant--he talks to me, you know, omega stuff, and just--we’re fertile, that’s
all. He’s bound to be pregnant. After...after what he told me.”

Calvin watches Oli through skeptical eyes. “Okayyy…”

Oli stands up as straight as he can, which doesn’t actually make him that taller. “I didn’t mean it
like that! Shit, you’d be able to smell it before I would. He’s not pregnant. Or if he is, he didn’t tell
me that. I didn’t mean to say what I said like that.”

“Alright, man,” Cal placates, “chill out. It’s fine. Like Will would tell you first if he was pregnant,
anyway.”

This time, Oli drops his mouth. “Hey! Maybe he would!”

“Keep dreaming.”

“Whatever,” Oli huffs. “So, since Louis’s naming his baby after me, think you’re gonna do the
same for your next one?”

“Oh, like shit her name is because of you,” Louis retaliates.

“My namesake,” Oli teases. “Think I’ll just call her Oli junior.”
“Do it and see what happens.”

Niall makes his way over to the group right after that, grinning while looking over his shoulder,
laughing at Zayn. “Guess who totally aced the Baby Name Game?” Niall asks, pointing two
thumbs to his chest.

Zayn approaches his side and holds up two little gift bags. “Niall won candles.”

“What’s the Baby Name Game?” Calvin asks.

“Gemma played clips of songs with lyrics that had the word baby in them,” Niall explained. “I got
every single one right. Every single one.” He reaches out beyond Oli to a veggie tray and pops a
few cherry tomatoes in his mouth.

“What’s the second bag for, then?” Calvin gestures to Zayn’s other hand and asks.

Niall grins. “That would be from when I won the second Baby Name Game,” he says while
chewing. “Write down as many songs as you can with the word baby in the title. I won with
twenty-five. Twenty-fucking-five!”

“Hit Me Baby One More Time, Baby Got Back,” Louis lists off quickly, counting on his fingers.
“Uh..uh..Help me out, guys.”

“Ice Ice Baby,” Oli plays along.

“Always Be My Baby was all I could think of,” Zayn comments.

“That song Hey Baby by Gwen Stefani,” Calvin adds.

Everyone starts singing together: “Hey, baby, hey, baby, hey!” and then laughing.

“That’s a blast from the past,” Louis says. “Back when I played soccer in, like, elementary school,
that song would always fucking be on the radio when Austin picked me up.”

“I remember that,” Calvin snaps his fingers and says. “In that ugly ass van he had back then.”

“You guys shoulda played!” Niall tells them. “I was the only Alpha out there besides Gemma, and
she doesn’t count ‘cause she was leading the games.”

“Did Harry win anything?” Louis asks.

“No,” Zayn replies, “but he’s about to open his presents now, so Gemma said we should head into
the living room soon.”

“Man, it’s so cool that you see Alphas at these things nowadays,” Oli comments, staring and
grinning at Louis, Calvin, and Niall. “It used to be unheard of.”

“Any party’s a good party for me, man,” Niall replies. He looks different than Louis remembers,
even though he’d seen him two months ago. Somehow he’s fucking tanner--in the winter--and he’s
wearing nice clothes. Well, clothes that aren’t just ripped jeans and an old band t-shirt.

To his side, Zayn is dressed in complete black. For the first time, Louis notices a mark on his neck
and immediately looks to Niall, but Niall’s already chatting with Calvin about Superbowl
prospects, so Louis discreetly looks back to Zayn. It’s not a mating mark, but it’s still a fresh injury,
likely to leave a scar in the shape of a horseshoe. Not quite teeth, but similar. Zayn’s trying to hide
it behind his leather jacket, and it’s working; Louis can only catch a glimpse of it.
Putting it out of mind, Louis leads the way into the living room where he sits next to Harry as he
opens gift after gift. The presents are endless. Louis’s never been to one of these things, always
thought it was more of an omega thing, but it’s fucking fun, actually, digging into bags with Harry
to see what gift for Olivia they’ve gotten next. The mix of Harry’s friends and family with Louis’
friends and family is almost like their mating ceremony: loud and happy and just... right. They
wind up with enough diapers to last for months, clothes to dress Olivia in five outfits per day for
months, and all sorts of other baby gadgets that Louis’s just as excited about as Harry is. There are
little pacifiers for her to suck, bottles to feed her with, soap to wash her with, lotion to lather her
with, a little mirror to watch her in the car while she’s still in her backwards-facing carseat, little
dangling-things to put above her carseat for her to swat at, a swing to rock her to sleep, a play-mat
for tummy time, and even a little baby medicine kit with an aspirator and infant Tylenol if she--
heaven forbid--ever gets a cold.

The rest of the afternoon flies by. Louis makes himself useful by carrying off presents into the
nursery, chatting with all the guests and making sure they’ve had a good time, refilling the punch
bowl again, posing for all the photos people want to take of him and Harry together, and sending
people out the door with smiles and laughs when it’s time for things to come to an end.

Louis finds Harry in the living room after he’s done cleaning up the kitchen with Austin and Jacob,
and he looks tired but happy, watching a Disney movie with Doris and Ernest. Louis takes a seat
next to him. After all the noise today, the quiet is nice.

“You looked like such a proud daddy today,” Harry comments after accepting a light kiss from
Louis.

“I am.” Louis smiles. “Definitely am.”

Harry smiles back through a yawn. Louis fights the urge to stick a finger in his mouth.

“What was your favorite thing that you got today?”

“I really can’t even say.” Harry rests his head on Louis’ shoulder. “All of it was just so, so nice.
We’re seriously so lucky.”

“Surprised you’re not back in the nursery already, getting everything put up.”

Harry smiles. “Tonight I will be. I’m exhausted right now.”

“It’s already dark out. Just call it a night and get to work on it tomorrow.” Louis yawns. “I gotta put
together that changing table, anyway. I’ll do that tomorrow so you can put the changing pad thing
on it and all that.”

“Don’t you mean you’ll ask James to put it together tomorrow?” Harry quips.

“Hey, now,” Louis retaliates, flicking Harry on the leg. “I got the crib put together with minimal
help, I’ll remind you.”

Harry chuckles. Louis settles into Harry’s scent, closes his eyes to the sound of Woody and Buzz
Lightyear fighting on the screen in front of him, and almost actually dozes off. Before he does, he
slurs out, “Whatever I do, it’ll be safe. Won’t fall apart, promise. By our second baby, I’ll be a
pro.”
Harry’s been used to his extra weight by now, the gradual onset helping with that, but by the end of
January, he’s starting to feel stretched beyond the limit of his skin. His stomach is only getting
tighter day by day, so he covers it with lotion every night to help soothe it, imagining that he’s
really touching Olivia somehow in the process.

He just can’t wait to meet her. Whenever he puts his hand atop his stomach and feels her stretch
out or kick, he thinks about the day he’ll get to touch her skin-to-skin. It’s so close now, less than
two months.

Harry’s got to make sure that everything is just right for when she’s born.

By the time Louis’ classes start back up, Harry has the nursery complete. It had miraculously only
taken a week, probably due to how itchy Harry’s been to have it ready for the past, like, four
months, and also due to all the stuff he’s secretly been orderling online and hoarding for this time
to come.

There’s no real theme he’s going with, but if he had to describe it, it’s sort of a woodland vibe
without being too Alphaish, sort of a butterfly-fairy vibe without being too omegaish. His mom
used the word “whimsical” to describe it when he’d taken a picture for her.

He won’t know what dynamic Olivia’ll be until she’s born, of course, but he’s put a lot of effort
into making everything as nice as possible regardless. Not that any of that even matters, though;
Alphas can like the butterfly wreath he’s hung in the corner, and omegas can like the woodland-
creature mobile hanging above the crib. He doesn’t want to impose a bunch of stereotypes on
Olivia before she even understands how dynamics work.

Part of Harry really wants Olivia to be an Alpha so she won’t have to go through the inevitable
strife that living as an omega is sure to give her. But if she’s an omega, of course he’ll be thrilled,
too; he’ll get to help her, and guide her, and teach her things. No matter what, she’ll be so
unbelievably loved. He and Louis are going to teach her so much.

Harry finishes lotioning his stomach and lowers his shirt again. Louis’ll be home soon from work,
and Harry wants to be social and hang out with the family in the living room while he waits on
him, but like a magnet, he walks into Olivia’s nursery instead.

The walls are a soft yellow, and Olivia’s crib is a light driftwood color--almost white--that goes
well with it. The changing table Louis’ parent’s gifted them matches the wood of the crib, and the
cover of the changing pad is mint, matching the bedding set on Olivia’s mattress. A little diaper-
holder thing is hanging off the side of the changing table, and Harry already has the inside filled
with bibs, burp cloths, pacifiers, and nursing pads for himself. The bottom is stacked with extra
diapers, wipes, diaper cream, and multiple lotions.

Since she won’t be actually using the crib for a while and they won’t pose any danger, there are
tiny pillows on the mattress colored dark blue, deep green, yellow, and dusty pink. Atop the crib
hanging from the ceiling is white netting, a canopy splaying out to the sides of the crib. Harry had
attached little pieces of fake moss he’d ordered off a craft website to parts of the canopy opening.
Since there’s no window in this room, Harry had hung up a fake one behind the crib: a big rustic
window frame he’d put some little fairy lights around.

The nursing chair in the corner is a grayish navy blue color with a toadstool-looking ottoman next
to it. On the other side is a tiny nightstand with a lamp on it. Finally, in the corner beside the closet
is a small bookshelf, already filled with books and other little toys. In the middle of the room is a
fluffy, pink, circular rug, big enough to touch both the crib and the dark-wood dresser next to it that
Harry’s filled already. A sound machine, a baby monitor, and a single empty picture frame sit on
top. Harry ultimately walks there and opens up the first drawer on the left.

Olivia’s clothes have all been washed already and are organized in her dresser by type and size--all
the socks and pajamas on the top (sleepers on the left and gowns on the right), then short-sleeved
onesies in the drawer after that, then long-sleeved onesies, then regular shirts, then shorts, then her
little leggings.

Harry always figured that he’d never actually dress her according to set outfits but would just mix-
and-match instead, at least for most of the stuff, so unless it’s like a themed outfit or a dress or
whatever, it’s easier to just split it up between tops and bottoms. Now he doesn’t know anymore.
He contemplates changing this organization up and placing everything in drawers based on outfits
instead (like he had before he changed it to this current method), except by now that may make too
much of a mess, and he’s not sure if he wants to change it again.

He doesn’t know what’s supposed to be right. He should’ve just kept everything by outfit; then the
colors would go together more, and she’d actually look cute and cared for and not like she had
parents who put her in rags. Harry shouldn’t’ve even taken the tags off everything and washed
them. What if Olivia never even gets to wear these things? There are just so many clothes, way too
many for one baby to possibly go through, and here he’s already gone and washed them all when
there’s a good chance she’ll grow so fast she won’t even get the chance to wear them at all...

It’s okay, he tells himself. She won’t be the only one. There’ll be more babies. He and Louis are
gonna have more babies in the future. The thought soothes him.

He’s got this. It’s fine.

After refolding everything in the dresser, then meticulously wiping down the changing table
station, then scrubbing the walls, Harry walks into the closet and gets to work on organizing that
for the third time. When he’s content that everything that needs to be hung up is pretty and that all
the diaper boxes Olivia will use as she grows are stacked in a more logical fashion, he digs out the
pile of sheets he’s been hiding in the back of the closet and throws them on the rug that’s in front
of the crib.

He gets all types of other stuff to throw on the pile, too, like Louis’ summer shirts he won’t notice
are missing, and he buries himself into it, pushing his head into the sheets and pillows and clothes
he surrounds himself with before settling half-on it and half-in it. It smells amazing. He sighs and
closes his eyes.

That’s how Louis finds him.

“Hey, you.”

Harry’s so heavy, and he feels so nice with all the sheets surrounding him that he doesn’t want to
get up. It’s even nicer when Louis lays there with him for a bit and kisses him awake, and they
hold each other and kiss quietly until it turns into a lazy, drawn-out makeout session.

They haven’t mated since they moved in, honestly both too tired recently, and it truthfully isn’t
some hidden issue between the two of them where someone’s not getting their needs met. For once
since the move, though, Harry feels that spark hit him inside, the result of being kissed so
thoroughly, and he thinks that if there were a way to just fold himself up in Louis’ body and stay
there forever, he’d do it right now and gladly.
Being in the nest with all their combined scents is the next-best thing. It’s heaven. It’s only when
Louis breaks away and tells him that dinner’s ready that Harry’s convinced to get up at all.

“How about you just keep the nest on the floor in there?” Louis suggests as they walk side-by-side
into the kitchen. He gestures back to the nursery with his head. “You don’t have to keep putting the
sheets back in the closet each time you’re done. Unless you like the smell that the diapers leave on
everything. We could just put a few loose ones in the nest, how ‘bout that?”

And then, it washes over Harry instantaneously. His feet lead him to the side of the hallway where
he backs up against the wall and bares his neck. Of course Louis’s known about his hidden nest in
the nursery.

His hormones are officially raging, but the emotion he’s unexpectedly slammed with as Louis
starts wordlessly scenting him goes beyond just horniness. This is a new level, something ethereal.
This is, like, Harry wanting to merge with Louis or something. An impossible phenomenon. The
two of their bodies crashing together and forming a giant conglomerate of love or something.

Louis thoroughly rubs his face against Harry’s neck, and Harry just holds onto his hair.

He can’t put a word to the feeling that’s washing over him, and he doesn’t know how to describe it.
It’s not just love; it’s more. The word love isn’t even enough.

It’s being imperfect but still feeling wanted. It’s not saying a word and having someone else
understand you entirely, like not even making a facial expression whatsoever and having someone
know what you need, what you’re thinking. Like trusting someone so much you’d gladly let
yourself be vulnerable because no matter what you’re safe, like caring for someone so much you’d
follow them anywhere, do anything they asked, give them whatever they wanted. Like feeling all
of that reciprocated.

It fills him and fills him and fills him until he doesn’t think he has room inside for all the emotion,
all the love, and he can’t stop it from being there, building up, so it just brims over. He thinks he
might be sobbing without crying. All of it extends outward towards Olivia herself.

Harry feels the power of the sacrifice of carrying this baby for these long and uncomfortable
months, the power of the love he already has for her, unborn. He doesn’t even know how it’s
possible, but he just knows that once Olivia is on the outside, it’s never going to stop, that it’s just
going to keep growing, this love so big it’s almost painful. He knows that despite loving her as
much as humanly possible right now, once she’s here and once he can hold her, it’ll be insane. And
he knows it’ll be insane between him and Louis, too, because they made her. She’s a part of each
of them.

Harry falls down the wall a little and breathes shakily as Louis continues to kiss his neck. Maybe
this sensation had originated from the nest itself, from being surrounded by all the scents of him
and Louis together, added now with a baby smell that he’s already addicted to. It’s like they’re a
pack now. They’re a family.

And Harry has known that he’s been pregnant for seven months. Why is it hitting him so hard right
now?

“Jesus, Harry,” Louis backs away and mutters. His eyes are shiny, and he stares ahead at Harry in
wonder.

Harry wipes his eyes. “This is really real, Louis.”

 "Yeah, baby." Louis gently smiles. “It’s really real.”

Chapter End Notes

Next up: more nesting fun. It's almost time! Also maybe an actual sentence or two
about their pets I forgot to mention....
 Chapter 6
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Twenty and Twenty-Two

The filtered sunlight from the window in Louis’ new bedroom seems to hit Harry’s face just right
in the mornings, and when Louis wakes up on the day after Harry’s birthday, pillows all messy and
bunched around their heads, he lays still for a while and just admires him.

He’d looked beautiful last night. He looks beautiful right now, too, all pale and soft and
surrounded by sheets, but last night. Last night they’d gone out to eat for Harry’s birthday, at a
freaking Applebee’s because that’s what Harry’d said he was craving. He’d worn a green sweater
that perfectly accentuated both his stomach and his eyes, and he kept his hair down, curling and
waving down his shoulders all clean and shiny. At home afterward, they’d laid in the nest together
for a bit, and Louis couldn’t stop the urge to whisper constant affections to him as they’d kissed,
then they’d gone to bed, where they’d kissed some more, rubbed against one another, and
ultimately came into one another’s hands, smiling.

Now, Harry looks just as pretty as he had when he’d been on the brink of pleasure, just as pretty as
he always does, with his lips pursed and parted in sleep, his little teeth showing as he mouth-
breathes. Louis fights the urge to reach out and run his fingers through his hair. He shouldn’t wake
Harry up just because he himself can no longer go back to sleep.

Louis used to be able to sleep in. He’d trained himself at a young age to get up early, anyway, to
mow neighbors’ yards or do whatever money-making thing he’d be up to back then, but still. If he
wanted to sleep in, he could.

He used to be able to stay up late, too.

Maybe living in this house with everyone on a schedule has trained him or something; he’s in bed
with Harry by ten or eleven, asleep not long after that, and awake around seven. And that’s on a
good night, one without last-minute assignments, or a brain that won’t shut off, or bad dreams that
assault him.

When Louis moves a little in the bed to stretch, just a tight little kicking-out of his leg accompanied
with a grunt, Harry murmurs, “Stop staring at me,” in his stupid-deep voice, eyes still closed.

“Nah,” Louis just replies, chuckling. He watches Harry until he winks an eye open, and when he
opens an arm up, Louis smiles and snuggles in close.

Sometime during the night they’d shifted from their normal position of chest-to-back, instead
sleeping chest-to-chest--or, well, chest-to-bump--and as Louis settles back in close to Harry, he
splays out a hand on Harry’s stomach and kisses the tip of his nose. He doesn’t stop staring at him,
just examining all the skin on his face, the little marks, his hairline, the shape of his nostrils. He’s
just lovely, and pregnancy’s only enhanced it. Louis prays that their child looks just like him.

Eventually Harry opens an eye again. He weakly swats at Louis. “Go back to sleep.”

Speaking aloud this time proves to be a mistake. Bruce hears the slight noise and starts loudly
wagging his tail against the foot of the bed, now awake and excited. Harry groans and covers his
face with the blanket.
“I’ll let him out and come right back,” Louis whispers to Harry while rolling over and sliding off
the bed. He’s already wide-awake, so why not.

A muffled “Y’gon’seepme?” comes out from under the covers. Louis throws on a pair of sweats
and strides back to the bed to pull the blanket off Harry’s face.

“You gonna go back to sleep with me after?”

“Yeah, babe,” Louis answers, truthfully not really knowing if he’ll end up falling back asleep or
not. Maybe they could just lay there. Maybe they could do other things.

“You said you’re off today, right?”

Louis nods. “Just gotta go to the library later to do some shit, but it can wait awhile.”

“Boo.”

“Yeah, I know,” he says apologetically. “Can’t get behind, though, Haz. Not after all this time.”

“I know. Still. Boo.” Harry yawns loudly.

“I could take you to the bakery if you wanted some other social interaction,” Louis suggests. “I
know no one can compare to my level of awesomeness or anything, but just ‘cause you’re not
working there anymore doesn’t mean you can’t hang out. I know Barbara misses you already.”

Harry snuffs a laugh into his pillowcase. “If I wanted social interaction, I’d just walk into the den.”

“Oh, so it’s a me thing?” Louis asks, smiling.

“Yeah, Lou. Imagine that.”

Louis just smiles wider.

“The office upstairs doesn’t work for you?” Harry asks.

“Better than nothing,” Louis answers as he puts on a hoodie, wipes sleep from his eyes, and bends
down to begin scratching Bruce’s head and ears. “Few days ago the kids interrupted me, like, five
times, so I thought it’d be a little easier to just stay on campus, knock out my shit in a few hours,
then come right back.”

Harry tiredly smacks his lips and shifts in bed, his face twisting up a bit in discomfort before he
settles again.

“But you’re right,” Louis immediately changes his mind, thinking logically. He’s gotten a little too
relaxed since living here, too reliant on the safety of the house. “I’d rather be where you are. I’ll
just go up to the office this afternoon, get my stuff done here instead.”

“Go to campus if you need to,” Harry murmurs, eyes already closed again. And again, Louis just
says, “Nah.”

Outside the bedroom door, Louis’ hand finds its way into the pocket of his hoodie where he feels
for his cigarette pack and lighter. He barely smokes these days, trying to quit entirely before Olivia
is born, but he’s just gotta make it through this one last semester. Then he thinks he’ll be good to
kick the habit for good.

After all the holidays, Louis’s kept busy, and that’s how he likes it. It reassures him that he’s being
a good Alpha and working at the ultimate end-goal: providing for his family. But sometimes, a part
of him feels like he must be insane. All those quotes that his mom used to tell him in high school,
those quotes that he’s burning the candle at both ends, or biting off more than he can chew, or that
he has too many logs in the fire, all those quotes come to mind. He wonders how much of that is
true--how much was true then, and how much is true now.

Work’s just been busy--like, that’s constant--and now his classes have taken off full-force again.
It’s only a few more months, though, and then once Louis graduates, he’ll be able to get more
hours in at work, maybe even a promotion, so there’s that to look forward to.

He’s already spoken to his supervisor Steve who had readily agreed to let him take on more
projects once he has a degree. Louis basically works close to full-time hours there, anyway, sort of
having to do a lot of late-night bitch-work because of his lack of seniority there, but his availability
will be more open once his days are freed up. With his all-time goal being to manage his own
theater, he’ll have to get some more time under his belt at the Grand Capital Theater for
experience, climb the ladder to lower- or mid-level management, then ultimately look at business
avenues of either purchasing a theater as an owner or even building one from scratch to manage
himself.

He’d really like to have something small, something local that kids could go on field trips to,
something that could get them interested in theater and the arts at a young age. With his portion of
the family’s inheritance, he really thinks he could make it a reality. It wouldn’t be all that
expensive to start up. And then it’d be constant revenue after that, anyway.

It’s still a far-off dream right now. There’s time.

Bruce’s nails clack on the hardwood floor as Louis continues walking to the back deck through the
house. He pulls out a cigarette and lights it up once he’s out there, and Bruce runs down the steps
and immediately to the back fence where he stops once to pee and then begins running back and
forth, chasing nothing. Louis’ mind continues running on high-speed.

So. He wants to build a theater. Sounds crazy, but he’s gonna do it. First, he’s gonna build a house.
Because that’s where his mate and their baby are gonna live. And without them, none of his other
goals mean jack shit.

Harry’s always in Louis’ mind no matter what, like some star in his brain, sometimes dim and
sometimes burning bright, but despite the intensity, Harry’s a part of him, in his very blood. Just
like Olivia already is, even though he can’t see her face yet.

The sound of the sliding glass door of the deck startles Louis suddenly, and he plucks the cigarette
out his mouth like he’s a teenager getting caught. He’s legally allowed to smoke, of course, but he
still gets a look of disapproval from his uncle as he steps outside with a cup of coffee.

“Thought with you having a baby soon, you’d give up the habit,” Jacob greets him. He has a mug
of steaming tea in his other hand, and he offers it to Louis.

“Oh, thanks. I’m going to,” Louis honestly answers, and Jacob thankfully doesn’t say anything
more about that. Louis continues smoking until he’s finished, and he puts his cigarette out in a
nearby dead potted plant. He’ll get the butt later.

“I barely see you anymore, you’re so busy,” Jacob says, chuckling. “It’s like when you were in
high school, always doing something. But now it’s your last semester of college.”

“Yeah,” Louis comments, shaking his head. “Crazy, right?”

Softly, Jacob smiles. They both stare out into the yard and watch Bruce run around. Eventually,
James walks out onto the deck, too, joining Jacob, and he puts his arm around the small of his
mate’s back.

“So how’s the semester going so far?” Jacob eventually asks when Louis doesn’t offer up anything
else to contribute to the conversation, lost in his thoughts again.

Louis shrugs. “I’ve made it this far, yeah? Just gotta keep my grades up, which should be no
problem, and by May, I’ll be done. “

“You think you’re going to continue your education at all beyond this?” James asks.

“At some point I might,” Louis answers, “but it depends really on the demand for it.” He doesn’t
think it’s necessary to have more credentials if he has a certain level of experience, but that brings
up more things that Louis needs to research...

James hums. Jacob makes some gesture to show that he’s too cold out here, and he walks back
inside the house.

“So,” James turns to Louis and comments. “Louis, Louis, Louis.”

“That’s me.”

“Back at home.”

Louis smiles. He takes a seat on a cold, metal chair and sips at his hot tea.

“Baby on the way.” James cracks open the can of soda in his hand and takes a sip. Louis would
make a face at his morning beverage choices, but he’s so used to it he doesn’t. “About to graduate
college.”

Louis’s known his uncle long enough (his whole life) to know that this is leading to something. He
chooses just to nod this time.

“You’re taking fifteen credits, right?”

“Yeah,” Louis answers. “Well, sixteen. One class is a lab.”

James nods. “And how’s work going?”

“Great,” Louis answers honestly. “Always plays, always productions to plan for, events going on.”

“And Harry?”

“How’s Harry?” Louis clarifies, and when James nods, Louis smiles. “Good, good. He stopped
working last week, even though he wasn’t doing much there anyway. But his feet are kind of
swollen now, so it’s good that he can rest more. Gives him time to look up blueprints and stuff.”

“So, about that,” James says, and Louis knows--this is it.

“What do you think is more important: building a house or graduating?”

“I mean, graduating, obviously, but--”

“And what do you think is more important: building a house or having a baby?”
“Clearly having a baby,” Louis answers, smile gone. He puts down his mug. “Before you say
anything, if you think I’m doing too much, we’re seriously only looking at land and blueprints
right now. Just as a plan.”

“And planning is good.”

“Goals are good to have,” Louis adds on.

“I would completely agree,” James comments, and then he’s silent. He looks out into the backyard
where the bleak sun has begun to rise above the horizon of trees by the fence-line.

“You know,” James finally speaks, turning to lean against the wooden rail. He clears his throat.
“You know it’s okay to admit if you’re scared.”

Louis furrows his eyebrows. “Who said anything about being scared?”

James shrugs. “Nobody. But you’ve just got a lot going on. So if, say, you’re getting involved in all
this to maybe avoid--”

Louis interrupts James immediately. “No way.”

He takes a sip of tea and shakes his head after swallowing. Part of him thinks it’s too early for this.
“I don’t really have to explain my feelings for Harry. I mean, everything’s pretty obvious, I think,
especially to you. We’re soulmates. He’s my life, James. You get it, right? You and Jacob--I mean,
if you imagined life without him, it just wouldn’t be the same, wouldn’t be worth living. So that
extends out to our baby, right? It’s, like, this giant thing I can’t explain, but there’s a force to
always take care of them, and this drive to always do better. So.”

“That’s deep insight, for your age,” James mutters quietly.

Louis shrugs and looks away. “It's true.”

James looks down and smiles, shaking his head. “There’s no stopping you once you’ve got your
mind set on something, man, I’ll tell you that. I just wanted to make sure you’re handling
everything.”

“So far, so good.”

“Look, I always say this, so I’m sure you know already--and I know you’re an adult and get
lectured enough at school--but just--please don’t get so involved in planning for the future that you
forget the now.”

Louis nods. “I hear you.”

“Hope you do.” James finishes off his soda. “Do you know what you’re getting yourself into with
this home-building thing?”

“Yes and no,” Louis answers honestly, and when James looks at him waiting for him to elaborate,
he goes on, “I know from all those shows Harry always watches what a renovation itself is like, so
building from scratch, I can only imagine it’s way more. I understand, like, the concept of having
contractors and stuff, of having a designer help pick out materials and all that. I’ve got the business
side of it down, like delegating people to tasks. I’m still afraid I’m gonna be screwed over.”

“You’re going to be.” James crushes his soda can. “They’ll take one look at you, see your age,
immediately laugh at you. Then they’ll see your money, take a second look at you, and suddenly
be kissing your feet to be hired. But just because they’ll be begging you to pick them for the job
doesn’t mean they still won’t swindle you.”

Louis sighs. “Years ago, I’d freaking yell at you for saying that, but I think the same thing, too.”

James has a shit-eating grin on his face. “Louis William Tomlinson! Is this you telling me that I’m
right?”

Louis stares stone-faced at his uncle.

“You just basically said that I’m right.”

“Well, you are. I said I agree with you. It’s not just you who’s right; I’m right, too. I feel the same
thing.”

James takes out his phone and starts pulling something up. “I’m saving this date for future
reference...Let it be known that on the second of February, 2013, Louis told me I was right.”

“Are you--are you making an alarm?”

“Yeah,” James says, not looking at Louis. He’s still typing. “It’ll go off once a year on this date.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

James pockets his phone again. “This kind of thing is a huge project. It’s like a part-time job,
Louis, you realize that?”

“Once I graduate, I’ll have time to make it my job. I won’t have class,” he reminds him.

“But you’ll have a baby,” James counters with. “What’s your time-frame on it?”

“Five months.”

“Five months?”

“Not from now, but from when we get started. After we buy a property and all that. I think that’s
way reasonable.”

“Where are you looking?”

“Nearby,” Louis answers. “Harry would be amongst the cows and pigs if he could, but I still need
something closer to the city, so yeah. We were thinking something suburban like here. He really
doesn’t want to leave this town at all, but we might venture out a bit depending on what’s on the
market.”

“You could always find property for sale around here with trees and clear it out.”

“Yeah, so, what do you think about that?”

“Me personally?”

“Yeah,” Louis answers. “Is it something you think would be smart to do? ‘Cause I was thinking of
that.”

James is quiet. “I mean, sure. It’s a ton of work, but get you a good construction crew, and those
guys know what they’re doing. They’d cut everything down, dig up all the roots, then you’re
basically left with level land. You can just sod it after that and have brand new grass everywhere.
It’d be expensive, but.” James shrugs. “Not like this family can’t afford it.” ***

“I don’t want help from you guys. I want to do it on my own.” Louis stands up and whistles for
Bruce.

“Your mother would still pitch in at the very least.”

Watching Bruce run back to the deck, Louis thinks about that idea. Brand new, level property,
newly-planted grass.

“Harry would have a field-day planting flowers...”

Aside from the late-morning nest-cuddling with Harry, the rest of the day is loud like it always is in
the house. Louis’s missed the energy of so many people being around, truthfully. After shutting
himself off from it to read and study in the family office for a few hours, he seeks everyone out
again, and he finds most of them in the den together.

Lottie and Fizzie are on their phones, but they’re still lounging on the big couch with everyone
else. James and Jacob are sitting in the loveseat together (the thing with James’ shift-work is that
he’s either never around or he’s around all the time), and their son Connor is on the floor in front
of them playing with legos. Ernest tries to play with him but it turns out to be annoying to Connor,
so he goes to play with Doris instead, who’s loudly trying to start a game of hide-and-seek in the
middle of the crowded room.

Harry’s on the sectional couch, a cushion supporting his back, with Phoebe next to him on one side
and Louis’ mom on the other. Austin and Daisy are off somewhere else.

Louis steps in the room, sandwich he’d just made in hand. It looks like Harry and his mother are
looking at books together or something. He walks towards them.

“Budge up, buttercup,” he tells Phoebe, who sticks her tongue out but scoots over.

From his new spot directly next to Harry, Louis can see what it is he’s looking at now, and he
groans. “Oooh, Mom’s favorite pastime,” he says sarcastically before taking a bite of his sandwich.
He holds it out to Harry who leans forward and takes a bite, too. “Showing off old photo albums.”

“Shut up, Louis,” Lottie calls out. “You love looking at pictures of yourself, don’t lie.”

“Speak for yourself,” Louis counters.

Fizzie laughs, standing up to grab one of the books from a stack next to Jay. “I’ve never even seen
some of these pictures,” she says, immediately skimming through the pages.

“Me either,” Louis mumbles.

“Oooh. I’m in some of these!” Harry exclaims. “Look, Lou. I made the family album.”

“Well, you’re family, silly,” Jay says.

“Louis, oh, my gosh, look how young we were.”

Louis pulls the album so it’s resting on both his and Harry’s laps and peeks at the photo he’s
referring to. “Oh, my God, you were such a baby,” he muses. “Look at your hair.”

“Shut up,” Harry says. “Look at yours.”

“It was so short back then,” Louis stares at himself and says.

“Look at my neck in this one,” Harry whispers. It’s when Harry’s mark was fresh.

“That had to’ve been right after I marked you.”

“Look at this one,” Harry says. “Look, ‘member those shoes you always used to wear
everywhere?”

“Keepin’ it fresh,” Louis mutters, chuckling. “God, I thought I looked good.”

“You did.”

Louis flips another page. “Ooh, look, here’s Prom.”

“What were we even doing?”

“Staring at each other, looks like,” Austin answers from behind the couch.

Harry looks at Louis, and the side of Louis’ mouth lifts when he notices Harry’s current eye-color
has lightened to resemble the color of the ocean. Harry looks purely happy as he smiles back, then
his attention goes to another photo on the corner of the scrapbook.

“Awwwww, Lou, look at you!”

Louis cranes his neck to look at the photo of himself as a toddler, smiling hugely without showing
any teeth and wearing some ridiculous red cap. The photo underneath that is of him and his sisters
at the beach, and the one underneath that is one of Jacob and James’ bonding ceremony.

“What’s your organizing method here, Ma?” Louis leans forward and calls her out. “You have all
these pictures mixed up by date.”

“Yeah, well, someone,” she says, looking at Lottie, “liked to take out all the pictures that included
her in them and hang them on her wall in middle school. It took me forever to put them back in the
albums at all.”

“Doesn’t explain why I’m like, ten in this one and an infant in this one here. Lottie’s not in any of
those. I think you’re just, like, chronically disorganized and want to blame it on--”

Jay stretches behind Harry and hits Louis across the head, lightly enough that it’s clearly a joke.

“Try having seven kids and keeping up with it, Louis,” she says. “You’ll see.”

“Here’s what our little baby’s gonna look like,” Harry gushes, going back to a baby picture of
Louis. “If we’re lucky.”

“Please. If we’re lucky, all of our kids’ll get your genes.”

Harry pauses and looks at Louis. “All of ‘em, huh?”

“Yeah,” Louis just replies. “Mom just said ‘try having seven kids and keeping up with the photo
albums’, so that means for us, eight it is. It’s a competition now.”

Harry nudges Louis with his shoulder. “Yeah, right!”

“Come on, Haz, we have to win,” Louis says, throwing an arm around him.

Harry rolls his eyes and chuckles. “Win at having babies?”

“Yes,” Louis quickly answers. “Three sets of twins. That’ll show her.” He’s whispering loudly so
his mom can still hear. “She thinks she can have two sets of twins and be the winner. We’ll win.
Just wait.”

“I literally have no comment to that,” Harry chuckles. “You’re not getting me pregnant with three
sets of twins.”

There’s a kind of sparkle in Harry’s eyes, and Louis just winks at him and goes back to looking at
the pictures in front of him. Within a second, he’s belly-laughing so hard that Harry has to crouch
over and see what he’s looking at.

“Oh, my Godddd,” Harry groans, covering his cheeks with his hands. “What is that?”

“James’ graduation from Med School,” Louis answers.

“My hair…” A blush creeps up Harry’s neck and burns the tips of his ears pink. “It’s slicked down
and brushed to the side…”

“Yeah, what a dweeb,” Louis agrees, joking, and Harry pushes him. “Look like some nerd called,
like, Marcel or something--” and Harry pushes him before he can finish, and Louis laughs and
laughs.

“Oh, I remember that night,” James enthuses, looking at the picture that has Louis cracking up and
Harry blushing over. “That’s a blast from the past for sure.”

“Ah, there’s little Harry. Dressing up to impress my mate,” Jacob teases, now behind the couch,
too, crouching over to peek. “Giving him flowers.”

Harry groans. “I’m sorry I did that.”

Jacob laughs. “Why are you sorry?”

Harry shrugs awkwardly. “I was so weird…”

“It’s a coming-of-age thing. All omegas do it. Just wait.”

“We’ll see,” Louis just murmurs. Again, he and Harry look to one another and smile. Louis takes
one last bite of his sandwich and gives the rest to his mate.

That night, as Louis continues softly snoring beside him, Harry wakes up for the second time,
groans, and tosses and turns. It goes on like that until the middle of the night when his moving
about finally wakes Louis up.
He blinks rapidly and sits up. “You got heartburn again? Need the Tums?”

Harry shakes his head. “Insomnia or something.”

Louis starts pulling back the covers. “Want some nighttime tea?”

Harry shakes his head. “I’m fine.”

“What’s keeping you up? Just can’t sleep?”

“Yeah. Mind won’t turn off.”

“You sound like me,” Louis murmurs, settling back in bed. His voice is scratchy.

“Mm. Thinking of everything I still need to do.”

“Like what?”

Harry sighs. “Everything.”

“You don’t have to do anything but rest.” Louis turns onto his side and wraps an arm around him.
“C’mon, let me hold you.”

“There’s something I’m forgetting to do, I just feel it.”

Louis’ hand reaches out to rub circles on Harry’s belly. “I’m sure you’re not.”

“The bathroom’s clean, right? Our bathroom?”

“Yeah.”

“Think I should clean it myself just to be sure…”

Louis says something else to that, something probably like “but the maid just cleaned it last week”,
because Louis’ family has one of those, but Harry doesn’t listen. He ruminates about it for the
entire night, and the next day, he actually cleans it top to bottom and organizes all the baby bath
stuff in the closet in there, too.

The last thing Harry gets to is the actual tub. He scrubs everything down twice, wishing he could
actually use bleach, but it still looks sterile when he’s through. Next he turns to the bathroom
fixtures, and he takes apart all the little plastic pieces on the faucets and uses a bunch of Q-Tips
covered in cleaning solution to clean all of those.

“Haz, it’s dinnertime,” Louis walks into the room and says, dressed casually since he’s off work.
“What are you still doing in here? You said you were just wiping underneath the cabinets.”

“Almost done,” Harry keeps his eye on the bathtub faucet and replies.

“You…you took the plastic off the handles so you could clean inside them. With a Q-Tip.”

“It’s disgusting, Louis.” Harry holds up the Q-Tip and shows Louis the blackness at the end of it.

“Yeah, well, no one’s used this bathroom in forever,” Louis tells him.

Harry goes back to what he was doing before Louis walked in.

“Harry,” Louis says carefully. “Can you maybe forget about that for a bit and come to the dinner
table? I haven’t been home for dinner all week.”

“Yeah, just gimme like ten more minutes.”

“You’re crazy.”

Harry turns his head to stare at Louis. “I’m crazy for wanting a sterile area to bathe our child?”

Louis holds up his hands. “Wrong word, wrong word. Just--how much longer? Ten minutes, you
said?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright. Ten minutes. Sounds good. I’ll tell Austin,” Louis carefully says, slowly walking out of
the room.

Harry wakes up after Valentine’s Day feeling ugly.

The day itself was lovely (beginning with morning handjobs, then a walk around the neighborhood
with Bruce as snow flurries flew around, then shopping), and the night was even better (dinner and
dessert in the city, then more orgasms from Louis’ mouth and fingers), but he wakes up when it’s
over feeling sore, and huge, and puffy and swollen, and ugly.

Louis’s gone when he wakes up, but he’d left a note on the pillow for him along with three
Hershey’s kisses, like at a hotel. Harry pops them into his mouth--all three at a time--and waddles
outside to the nearest bathroom down the hall. He stares at his reflection in the mirror and feels like
crying. He doesn’t recognize his face.

“I’m so big,” Harry sighs.

Everything’s finally ready for the Big Day, so he should be relaxed. He should be cheery. He’s in a
home with the best people ever, and he gets to do nothing but research Dream Homes on Pinterest
and make boards labeled Kitchen and Laundry Room and Plantin’ Planty Plants. But sadly, he
doesn’t feel anything but big.

Louis maintains that Harry’s not huge, just a pleasant basketball-bump in front, but Harry just feels
so heavy everywhere. Everything hurts. Joints hurt when he walks, ligaments hurt when he rolls
over, and he’s emotionally unstable, too. Unbelievably happy one minute, sad the next. Annoyed
and frustrated moments after that, then horny after that. And they haven't really fucked since
moving here.

Louis’s gone.

It’s fine because Harry has the nest. But he has to lay in it alone, and get up from it alone, and he
has to walk to his bed alone, and he has to lay there alone.

As usual, Louis texts him throughout the day, maybe today a bit more than normal, but he’s on the
home stretch now, and he knows Louis’s naturally feeling as antsy as he is. So Harry mainly stays
in bed--all day--cycling between watching television, fretting about things he feels like he still
should be doing in the nursery, and texting Louis. He won’t say anything about how he feels
because he knows Louis’ll just worry that he overdid it yesterday by walking too much.

Harry makes it outside his room just to eat dinner with the family, and that cheers him up. Until he
again has to go to bed alone because Louis’s working, and it’s a Friday, after a holiday, and after a
day he’d requested off--all meaning he’ll be busy and will be working late.

It’s way past eleven when Louis comes home, and Harry can sense it when he enters the house, but
he doesn’t come to the bedroom right away, probably getting food instead. Harry turns off the
television and tries to get comfortable as he waits for him to finally come to bed.

When the doorknob turns, it’s with a slow carefulness. Louis enters quietly, wearing a suit and
looking tired, and he almost tip-toes through the room. He makes it to their dresser before gazing
over at Harry.

“Oh, thought you’d be asleep,” he says, then immediately approaches the bed, his eyebrows
furrowed. “You’re upset. Why are you upset?”

Harry shakes his head. “I’m not.”

“Haz.” Louis climbs in bed, laying on top of the covers.

“Nothing important.”

Louis searches Harry’s face. “It’s important. You’ve been crying.”

“It’s nothing, really,” Harry says, and his voice is clearer this time. “Just missed you today.”

Louis stares at him still, and he moves a piece of Harry’s hair off his cheek. He’s always finding
some excuse to touch it. Wordlessly, he then moves off the bed again, quickly takes off his jacket,
dress shirt, belt and pants, drops everything to the floor, and gets back in the bed, this time under
the sheets.

Knowing what Harry needs immediately, he just holds him. “Tell me what’s wrong?”

“I’m just really, really tired of being pregnant,” Harry says into Louis’ chest where he’s folded
himself up. “That’s literally it. I know it sounds horrible to say.”

“No, I understand.”

“Yeah, but you don’t.” When Louis moves back to look at him curiously, Harry softens his voice.
“It’s not your fault, but you don’t understand. You can’t. You have no idea how this feels.”

Louis wavers, his hand on Harry’s bump moving into a slow caress. “I--I mean, you’re right. But
I’m trying here, Haz. You’re doing so good, through all of this. You’re so amazing.”

Harry’s quiet, but he nods.

“Babe?”

“I heard you. It’s okay.” Harry’s voice is low. “I just don’t feel good.”

“Well. What exactly...? How--I--How can I help you?”

“I just feel huge.” Harry shrugs. And that’s it. It’s just a sentence, it’s just him explaining how he’s
feeling, and it’s true. He feels huge. That’s it. He’s pregnant, his due date is in one more month,
and he’s feeling huge. But then he starts crying, a wall of emotion just splattering all over his heart,
and he won’t stop, just shoulders-shaking, ugly-noise-making, full-on-sob-face crying into the
pillow.

“I want this to be over,” Harry admits wetly, brokenly. “I’m sorry. I hate thinking, like, bad stuff
like that, but it’s--really--it’s just--”

“You’re so amazing doing this, Haz,” Louis tells him. “I can’t even imagine, babe. You’re doing so
well. You’re growing our baby in you. And it’s almost done, yeah?” he says encouragingly. “One
more month. Just one more month. It’s not bad for wanting it to be over. It’s hard fucking work.
But you’re doing it, Hazza, you’re doing it. You’ve eaten all the right things for almost eight full
months now, and you’ve taken all your vitamins, and you exercise, and you--shit, you’ve even
stayed away from microwaves, you weirdo, and you haven’t even taken as much as a Tylenol…
This baby is going to be perfect. She’s going to be perfect. All because of you.”

Harry has tears positively streaming down his face, though, so Louis just wraps his arms around
him tighter. As best as he can. They’re forehead-to-forehead, at least.

“Do you believe me?”

“Yes,” Harry quietly answers.

“Do you believe me when I say you’re beautiful?”

Harry wetly laughs. At least he’s not full-on crying anymore. He doesn’t answer Louis. “God, I’m
sorry for unloading this on you the second you walk in--”

Louis completely ignores him. “Because you’re fucking gorgeous, always, but especially like this. I
love it. I love taking you out, walking around with you next to me. Seeing everyone notice your
stomach. You’re having my baby, and you look so fucking pretty.”

Harry looks down at himself. “Yeah? Holey t-shirt and sweatpants really doin’ it for you, huh?”

“My t-shirt,” Louis corrects. “My t-shirt on you, my baby in you. You have no idea. You really
have no idea.”

Finally, Harry’s eyes stop leaking, and his face is dry again. It’s probably tear-tracked and gross,
though.

“I think I’m gonna get you one of those big, long pregnancy pillows. I think that’ll help support
some of the weight better. I should’ve thought of it sooner.”

Harry nods.

“Okay?”

“‘Kay,” Harry answers. Louis comes closer, and Harry allows himself to be kissed. Once, twice.
Harry leans in for a third and backs away, sniffing once more. They lay there in the dark, silent
room until their breathing settles together.

Carefully, one of Louis’ hands moves from Harry’s belly down to his thigh. “I don’t know if it’ll
make you feel better, but I could touch you.”

Harry tucks himself further into the mattress, feeling the sensation of Louis’ fingertips dip
underneath the waistbands of his sweatpants and underwear. He begins tracing the skin of his leg.
“You want that?” Louis asks, fingers moving back up and then around to the back of Harry’s ass.

“You don’t have to, Lou,” Harry weakly answers. “You’ve had a long day.”

“Baby.” Louis pushes himself up with one arm and looks down at Harry. “I’m twenty-two years
old.”

“Yeah, but you’re tired,” Harry retaliates. “I can tell.”

“Tell you what,” Louis whispers, settling back on the pillow. “How about...we do what we did last
night, yeah?”

Harry wiggles closer to Louis. His stomach is so large that he can’t feel Louis’ cock like this, but if
Louis were to move a certain way...like last night...and they were to align them...

“Your hand around both of us while my fingers are in you…” Louis taps at Harry’s hole with his
index finger. “We’ll make each other feel good then pass right out.”

Harry nods.

“Yeah?” Louis whispers.

“Yeah.”

Louis immediately shimmies out his boxers and helps Harry out of his pants and underwear, too.
Harry keeps his shirt on, but Louis lifts it up a bit to feel more of his skin. He covers it with a hand
again, cradling it at the bottom. He just feels firm skin; the baby stopped moving around inside
hours ago.

Harry contentedly sighs and reaches out to wrap his hand around Louis’ neck. “You’re so warm.”

“Mm.” Louis’ voice has gone soft and quiet. He gets closer to Harry so that the head of his dick
touches Harry’s. “Smell ridiculous right now.”

Harry bites his bottom lip. “Ridiculous?”

“In a good way,” Louis clarifies, his voice still a whisper. His hand glides to Harry’s hip, then the
swell of his ass. “You smell like everything I like. So fuckin’ sexy.” With a little force, he pushes
Harry’s pelvis more into his own. They both gasp.

“Oh.” Harry reaches down in between their bodies, or tries to. He moves a little so he’s in a better
position. “How’d we even do this last night?” he asks, at a loss for how to get comfortable right
now. They were a little bit more frantic last night, Louis taking the lead and guiding Harry’s hands
until Harry just went with it and jerked them both off, and right now, Harry’s not really sure how
he even did it.

With Louis’ help and a little more shifting around so that Harry’s halfway on his back with Louis
kind of on top of him to the side, Harry’s able to reach down and wrap his hand around both his
and Louis’ dicks. The fluid coming out the tip of Louis’ cock helps Harry as he blindly starts
moving his hand down and back up.

Louis grunts, and they both start tiny, gentle movements back and forward. They aren’t even
kissing, just staring at one another. “Yeah, baby, just like that, there you go.” Harry smiles.

When Louis reaches down again, lower, past Harry’s balls, he easily pushes inside Harry with two
of his fingers. He immediately slides them back out, making Harry whine, but after lifting his
fingertips to his mouth to suck off the slick, he puts them right back inside.

Then it starts, the fingering and the desperate-but-careful rutting together. Harry squeezes his eyes
shut, trying to keep up the movement of his hand without tiring himself out or moving too much
that his stomach gets in the way. It’s not easy doing this--Harry’s hand can barely wrap around
Louis’ thick cock alone, let alone his own paired with it--but Harry’s got long fingers, and he’s
more or less just succeeding in keeping their cocks together as they move against each other.

“Just wanna see you come,” Louis whispers. “Just wanna make you feel so good.”

Harry nods, eyes still closed. There’s no way people would be able to hear if he moans, but he’s
trying to be quiet.

Louis’ arm has to be getting tired with how quickly he’s pumping his hand now. “You’re so sexy,
so round with our baby.”

Their breathing and grunts are all that’s heard for a while, both getting quicker and more desperate
as the seconds pass. Then: “Oh, there you go, there’s that face I love.”

Harry desperately covers his mouth with his free hand.

“You’re gonna come, baby, aren’t you?” Louis whispers, teeth clenched as he heavily breathes.
“You’re gonna come for me. Come on, come for me.”

And then Harry comes, the sensation coming from his own hand as much as it’s from the push/pull
motion of Louis’ fingers in his hole, as much as it’s from Louis’ shaft rutting against his own. He
clenches around Louis’ fingers and whines as it rolls through him.

It’s after he’s shaken his way through his orgasm that Louis finally kisses him, and Harry feels
more than sees him start to jerk himself off through completion with the slick hand he’s just pulled
out from Harry’s hole. With his lips just pressing against Harry’s, Harry feels the gut-punch groan
he makes before coming, and then he rolls over, panting.

They both heavily breathe. Louis takes his boxers and wipes them both off, taking his time to mop
up the slick around Harry’s thighs, and then he collapses back in bed again.

He’s right; they pass out immediately.

The rest of the week passes a little differently. Having two back-to-back nights with sex was great,
but then Louis starts working late again, and Harry can’t seem to keep himself awake while waiting
on him despite his growing desire for actual penetration. For a week, every single night when
Louis comes home, Harry’s already asleep.

He waits until the following week, on a random week-night when Louis had actually gotten home
early, to take a long bath, cover himself in good-smelling lotion to make his skin all smooth, and
put on the same little camisole that he’d worn for Louis back at their apartment. It looks smaller on
him now, but he knows he’s just larger in the front now. Like, way larger. He knows Louis’ll like
it, and he can’t wait to surprise him with it since the last time he’d worn this had ended up quite
nicely.
Harry also knows it’s maybe somewhat naughty, this being Louis’ parents’ house, but it’s now
their house, too--at least temporarily--and they’re mates, so. He puts on a robe, walks out into the
hall, and then makes his way back to his bedroom, quietly and carefully walking with a low-
burning anticipation to be fucked. Gently. Gently fucked.

When he opens the bedroom door, though, he looks ahead at the bed, and there on the left side,
Louis’s laying flat on his back, his hands rested on his stomach. His mouth is open, and he’s
breathing heavily. The remote is next to him, and the television’s playing some basketball game,
squeaky shoes echoing throughout the room.

Harry slides the robe off, takes off his camisole, and re-dresses in sweatpants and a t-shirt again.

As he covers Louis with the blanket bunched up at the end of the bed, Harry realizes for the first
time that he’s maybe been acting a little selfish, maybe has been taking Louis for granted recently.
He’s gotten so used to Louis waiting on him--bringing him things he needs from other rooms,
picking things up he’s dropped, going out to buy things he craves--that he hasn’t realized how truly
tired he must be since his new semester began.

All the long, mentally-draining classes Louis has… All the theater work at campus, the actors he’s
mentoring… The hard, night-and-weekend work at his actual theater job in the city… And then
everything he does at home.

Of course he’s exhausted. He’s doing so much. He always does so much. Harry’s pregnant, but
he’s not an invalid, and he can do more for Louis, too.

Harry gets in bed, turns off the TV, and stretches out to find his phone on the nightstand.
Immediately, he texts Will, asking for a favor.

The next night, Louis’s off work early again, but he stays up in the office. Harry waits until it’s
almost seven to interrupt him, and he finds him at the desk with a highlighter between his teeth,
typing away at the laptop in front of him. Momentarily, he stops to highlight something on the
pages of the open book beside his laptop, then he types again.

Harry fully enters the room and approaches him. “Hey, babe. Dinner’s almost ready.”

“‘Kay,” Louis mumbles, highlighter already back in his mouth. “Read this real quick.”

Louis turns the laptop so Harry can read a paragraph he’s been typing, and Harry smiles. “No
errors.”

“None?”

“Nope.” Harry grins. “You learned from the master.”

“Of course.” Louis smiles, but he still looks a little stressed. He pushes his computer and books
away to the back of the desk and sighs.

“So, hey,” Harry starts.

Louis turns around in his chair. “What’s up?”

“I was online today looking at houses and stuff, and bathroom designs. They have some that look
really spa-like that I like.”

“Oh, we’re gonna get a huge bath, don’t worry. Big enough for both of us to fit it. And a huge
shower, too.”

“Oh--well.” Harry chuckles. “Right. But I was just gonna say--It just got me thinking, maybe going
to an actual spa before Olivia’s born might be a good idea.”

“Yeah, babe,” Louis answers right away. He puts his hand on his jaw and tilts his head to the left,
then the right. Something in his neck audibly pops. “Anything to help you relax. What kinds of
stuff? Like, facials and cucumbers on the eyes and all that?”

Harry chuckles. “Yeah, and then, like, maybe a massage, too.”

Louis pauses.

“You’re not okay with someone else touching me like that,” Harry murmurs belatedly. “Okay,
what if it’s a Beta?”

Louis hums. “I think most of those spa places around here are adynamic like that,” he comments.
“So yeah. Sure. As long as you don’t go alone. Maybe Will’ll go with you.”

“But I want to do it with you,” Harry quickly says.

Louis kind of squints his eyes in confusion, and Harry stares at him innocently. “What? Alphas can
get massages, too.”

Louis gives him another strange look.

“I want you to relax, too,” Harry sincerely tells him. “Get all the stress out. You’re about to have a
baby, too, you know.”

“Alright. We’ll get couples massages, then.” Louis continues staring at him and smirks. “When?”

“Can you get Saturday off or is that a long-shot?”

Louis makes a face. “I’ll see what I can do. Steve loves you, though, so if I say it’s an appointment
for you or something, I’m sure he’ll be cool.”

“Sweet.”

Louis turns back to the desk. He finishes writing something in his notebook just as his phone starts
buzzing beside it. He cusses.

“Fucking Calvin, for fuck’s sake. He won’t fucking stop blowing up my phone. This entire time
I’ve been up here.”

Harry’s looking at random items on the nearby bookshelf-covered walls. “Oh? Why?”

“Tryin’ to get me to go out with him this weekend.” Louis snaps his fingers. “Now I can tell him I
already have plans, though.”

“The spa thing would be in the early afternoon.”

“He doesn’t have to know that.”

“But.” Harry slowly turns to him. “Why don’t you go? To the spa first and then go out with Calvin
after?”
“Go out to a club and leave my pregnant omega alone at home?” Louis mutters incredulously.
“Yeah, right.”

“Come on, baby, go out with him,” Harry urges, walking back up to Louis and shaking his
shoulder. “Go have fun.”

Louis turns in his chair. “What are you even talking about? You do talk such shit sometimes,
honestly. He’s trying to get me to go drinking in the city.”

“Yeah. And?”

“And you support that?”

“Of course!”

“Why...Why are you okay with this?” Louis leans back in the desk chair, hands in his hair. “Am I
being too overbearing with you or something? Do I need to lay off?”

Harry steps forward. “Louis,” he chuckles, “no. It’s nothing like that.”

“Well, you’re eight months pregnant. No way. Cal can fuck off.”

“I’ve got another month to go, yeah,” Harry agrees, “but I’m surrounded by your family. One
who’s a midwife and one who’s a doctor. You’re a college student about to graduate. I think it’s
important for you to do college-person things.”

“Why do you support this so much? Really, though, am I being too much? If you want a night
away from me--”

Harry holds his hand up. Carefully, he walks behind Louis and wraps his arms around him from the
back. “Louis. Come on. You work your ass off every single day. You haven’t slept in in forever.
Just go out, have a few drinks, have fun. Then come home, pass out, and sleep the rest of the day.
Put your work on hold.”

“I don’t get why you support this so much.”

“I don’t just support it. I suggested it in the first place.”

Louis unlatches Harry’s hands from the front of his chest and spins around in the office chair. His
face says “explain”.

“You’re so stressed. You deserve just a good, carefree night.”

“Then let’s have a good, carefree night together.”

“Can’t bring me in the club yet, babe,” Harry reminds him, tapping him on the nose. “I’m not
legal.”

“This stupid country’s drinking laws,” Louis rolls his eyes and mutters. “But yeah, let’s just breeze
over the fact you’re eight months pregnant. That’s not a factor at all.”

“If I were twenty-one, I’d totally break it down in the club pregnant.” Harry covers his stomach
with both hands and rubs them all around, doing a little dance. “My lovely baby bump.”

“You’re unbelievable,” Louis just chuckles. They both know he’d never risk going to a club
pregnant.
 “I want you to have fun,” Harry whines. “Lots of fun. Drunk, forget-your-worries fun.”

“I have fun with you.”

“Well, have fun without me for once,” Harry shakes his head and says, smile breaking through his
fake-serious demeanor. “Gosh, you’re so clingy.”

“Shut.the.fuck.up.” Louis grins back.

“Plus, Calvin needs his own night out,” Harry tells him. “Congratulations are in order, I hear.”

Louis’ eyebrows rise. “Wow. Good for him.”

“Look, are you gonna go willingly or am I gonna have to get them to kidnap you?”

“Fiiine,” Louis caves, acting like he’s put-out.

Harry grins. He bends down--the best he can--so he’s eye-level with Louis, mouth inches away
from his. “You gonna go out and get drunk for me?”

“If I have to.”

“Yeah? You gonna have a good time?”

“If it’ll make you happy,” Louis plays along.

“It’ll make me very happy.” Harry then kisses Louis, and Louis kisses back, leaning forward and
then standing up so that Harry has to hold onto him for balance, their mouths aligned the entire
time.

Louis smiles against Harry’s mouth. “Good. That’s what I like to do best."

Chapter End Notes

***Despite Louis’ mom giving birth to him at a young age and raising him as a single
mom, she had a huge support system--both socially and financially. This meant that
Louis himself was raised with the privilege of being a white Alpha male with money.

Louis used to not realize how his attitudes towards money had come across as
careless, or maybe even rude, until Harry educated him. He thought he was super
responsible with money because he saved it well, but he’d still throw things away
flippantly when Harry’s first instinct would be to try to fix it, or he’d still leave the
water running or the lights on, and he’d still buy things without even looking at the
price. It’s almost like having the attitude of “well, I was raised spending money like
this, so it’s normal, and everyone else should understand” instead of actually thinking
about how it is for other people and understanding their own struggle. Does that sound
familiar?

For a bit, Harry was secretly resentful about it because he really struggled without
money growing up. He wasn’t able to do sports in school, or go on field trips, or be
gifted a BMW from his uncle who didn’t need it anymore. And Louis’ attitude of
“spoliing his mate” comes from good intentions, but he also still needs to have a
healthy dose of realism dished out from time to time, too.

Now imagine if Louis were a person of color. Would anything in this story change?
Would he and his family have been accepted in their neighborhood? (They sort of
aren’t as it is, but they aren’t targeted, and they certainly don’t feel unsafe.) Could
Louis walk door-to-door asking to mow his neighbors’ yards like he used to do, or
would people be suspicious? Would he be able to get the jobs he had gotten in his life?
Would Harry be able to get his jobs? Would he have been able to skip grades in high
school? Would Louis have been given the same treatment at school when he was
failing? Or getting in fights? Smoking weed? What all would change? What
experiences would have been so massively different?

This is just a work of fiction, so I don’t mean for this to come across as insensitive to
actual real life people, and I certainly don’t want to compare having money vs. not
having money to the struggles of race in the history of America, but I meant it as a
realistic analogy to actual life. Systemic racism is real, and the more we can educate
ourselves about it, the more we can understand, and the more we understand, the more
we can heal and change the world. And we’re all responsible for change.
 Chapter 7
Chapter Notes

Don't know if I need to warn people, but there is a graphic scene of labor and delivery
here.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Twenty and Twenty-Two, March

When Louis comes home from his last class of the day and enters the house through the garage
since it’s freezing outside, he ignores his growling stomach trying to lead him into the kitchen in
order to instead seek out Harry. His nose follows the sweet scent of his mate and takes him to the
living room, where he spots Harry sitting on the floor in front of the sectional couch, belly
protruding out, all round in front of him, his legs splayed out to either side. Daisy is sitting in
between his legs, staring ahead at the television while Harry braids her hair, and Louis watches as
Harry says something to Fizzie, who’s behind him braiding his hair.

“Daisy, don’t be so close to Harry’s stomach,” Louis assesses the scene and immediately says.
“Move up.”

Daisy gasps.

“Aw, Lou, you scared her,” Harry murmurs, gasping a little himself.

Daisy scoots up a few inches. “Now I can barely reach your head,” Harry tells her, pouting while
trying to stretch his arms out in front of him to fix the now-loose pieces of hair close to her scalp
he’d just got done braiding.

“She was too close.” Louis walks forward and sits down next to Fiz on the couch. He bends down
to give Harry a peck on the lips.

Harry waves off Louis’ statement with his hand. “She was fine.”

Noticing Daisy’s mood, Louis reaches out a foot and taps her back with his shoe. “Hey. It’s all
good, Dais. I just don’t want you to accidentally hit his stomach or something. You were about to
lean back on it.”

“I wasn’t gonna,” she just mutters.

Great, now Louis’s made her all sad. He sighs. “Sit next to me and braid her hair if she wants it so
bad, Haz,” he suggests to Harry.

“I tried it like that, but I can’t really bend over from up there,” Harry explains.

“I’m almost done with Harry’s, Daisy,” Fiz mumbles through clenched teeth as she bites down on
barrettes between her lips. “I’ll do yours after.”

Harry pats the sides of his hair where it’s all pulled back in a braid that goes right down the middle.
“She’ll do a better job, too, Daisy,” he tells her and smiles. Daisy smiles back.
Just then, Louis notices a tablet on the floor next to Harry. He bends down and picks it up. It’s a
bunch of pictures of pools he’s been looking up.

“Oh, hell, no,” Louis immediately looks to Harry and says. “No.”

Harry whines. “But why not? There’s a pool here, and everyone always uses it. It’s worth the
money, don’t you think?”

“Ehh.” Louis’s still not too on-board with the idea. “I don’t know, Haz.”

“But when Olivia’s older? Wouldn’t that be fun for parties and stuff?”

“Yeah!” Fizzie agrees.

“We’ll install one if you really want it,” Louis reluctantly decides. ”And put a gate up around it.
Fifty feet high.”

“Such an over-protective daddy already,” Harry fake-grumbles..

“Oh, the gate’ll be for you,” Louis says, laughing when Harry reaches out and swats at his leg.

When Fizzie’s done with Harry’s hair, she pats both sides. “There. Now you’re all pretty for your
childbirth class.”

“Can I go with you guys?” Daisy asks, eyes all wide and excited.

Louis throws his head back and laughs. “No. This would literally be the very last class I would
ever take you to, Dais.”

“Why?” asks Daisy.

“‘Cause we’re gonna watch videos tonight.”

“Of what?”

Harry groans as Louis helps him stand up, and Louis holds onto him for a bit as he gets used to
being in an upright position. He takes a small moment to just smile at him, and with a hand on his
elbow, he leads Harry out of the room and to the front door of the house.

“Of what?” Daisy asks, tagging along behind Louis. “I like videos.”

Louis helps Harry into his coat and acts like he still can’t hear Daisy’s question.

Fizzie steps into the foyer and crosses her arms. “I’m taking A/B/O Ed now. I know all that stuff
already.”

“Oh, so terribly sorry, Miss Know-It-All,” Louis jibes, moving around Harry to zip up his jacket
after he’s shoved his arms inside. “Me and Harry here must have missed the lesson in seventh
grade where they showed us live birthing videos. Education system must’ve advanced a bunch. We
were too busy still being taught the names of our genitals.”

“You’re gross,” Fizzie just says. “Anyway, Momma talks about baby stuff with me all the time.
Plus, I can just go on YouTube and watch whatever I want, anyway.”

“So you’re telling me that’s what you look up when you’re on YouTube?”
She shrugs. “I wanna be like Mom when I grow up.”

“What? And have a million kids?” Louis asks, grinning.

“Be a midwife,” Fizzie corrects.

As Harry sits down on the bench next to the door, Louis starts helping him with his shoes and
zones out for a second, remembering stuff he used to do at Fizzie’s age. The internet was still this
big, kind-of-new thing back when he was in elementary school, not at all everywhere like it is now.
His first real memories are from school, really, of pecking at the keyboard of some seriously old
computers in a huge lab, but his first memories of unmonitored usage was when he was with
Calvin.

When he was young--something like fourth or fifth grade, so maybe ten or something like that--he
remembers being in Calvin’s computer room downstairs and sitting next to him as he’d gotten into
some type of chatroom for the first time. They’d totally trolled whoever else was in there, just
typing out random, crass nonsense again and again until ultimately getting kicked out, and they’d
thought it was so funny. But then, with time, having access to the internet had led to other shit with
Calvin, like typing the words omega and sex and sometimes even slick into the Netscape searchbar
and clicking on whatever links came up. Then the laughing sort of stopped, and it became a little
bit intense. Like, stuff that they definitely shouldn’t be looking up next to one another anymore.

So, in middle school, that’s when Louis’d started looking at stuff alone, on his own desktop
computer in his own bedroom. He’d look at whatever he could find, even downloading audio clips
of omegas moaning when he was in the middle of searching for songs on Limewire. He’d save the
clips to his computer with some type of made-up song name and would listen to them almost
nightly with his headphones in the CPU and his hand in his pants. Then his uncle said something to
him about knowing what he’d been searching for, so he’d stopped. At the time, Louis had no clue
how any of it became known to James, but it’d freaked Louis out so much he’d gotten a new
computer and never looked up bad stuff on it again. James got some computer guy to clean the
hard drive of his old computer, and Louis’d given it to Harry ‘cause he knew he needed it. Plus it
helped them be able to chat on AIM when they weren’t able to see each other that often at school.

Then came the omega magazines he began collecting under his mattress. Louis spent a lot of time
with those magazines. Even when he got a laptop in high school and actually stopped being a
dumbass and figured out how to delete his search history (just in case), the magazines were still his
preference. Even when the internet kept getting better, and better, and better, and faster. Okay,
maybe he did a little bit of naughty searching, though. For research purposes. For the sake of
practice. But it’d always just lead to the same thing: him in bed with only his imagination...thinking
of Harry.

Now--Now computers and shit are even crazier. Scarier, almost. All of Louis’ siblings have little
tablet-things that Harry has already--all of them, even the four year old twins--and maybe for the
first time in his life, Louis feels weird about it. Like...He doesn’t want his kid to be two and have a
tablet. He doesn’t want--fuck, he doesn’t want the internet to, like, corrupt his kids or something.
And then when they’re older…

Louis straightens up. “Well, good for you, Fiz, but really. Don’t be watchin’ that stuff. You don’t
need to be looking at omega birthing videos. It’s just gonna, like...take you places online you don’t
need to be goin’.”

“Oh, they’re not even all omega birthing videos,” Fizzie confesses. “They even have Alpha ones,
like when Mom had you, Louis.”
“Fizzie,” Louis groans. “Seriously. What all do they show?”

“Whatever the person filming it films,” she shrugs and answers. “It’s mainly from off to the side so
you normally don’t even see much.”

“Dude. Why do you even watch that stuff?”

“It’s fascinating.”

“It’s fascinating,” Louis repeats dryly. Harry holds out his arms, and Louis takes his hands to help
him stand again.

It’s fascinating, alright, Louis thinks once he and Harry are actually at the birthing center that
evening, attending their very last class. With the lights down low, everyone in attendance actively
watches a video of a man pushing a baby out of his asshole. Louis wishes his mind would stop
being so, like, blunt about it, but. Damn.

Louis’s seen stuff like it before in these classes, but Rob’s never shown them anything so intense or
graphic before. But this is the last class. Louis tries not to look around at everyone else’s reactions;
he’s got this. He just remains next to Harry, arm around him securely, not at all feeling a little
dizzy just sitting there, not at all.

The class has an interesting set-up tonight. Typically, everyone has always been pretty distantly-
spaced from one another, just out of Alpha-to-Alpha respect, but tonight the spacing is even more
discernable. The Alphas have gotten so protective of their mates as all the omegas’ pregnancies
have progressed that everyone has spread apart to far-away corners of the room. This makes Rob,
the instructor, have to turn the volume up loudly on the television so that everyone can hear, and
sounds of groaning and panting and screaming spread throughout the room for several long
minutes while everyone witnesses the event of birth.

It’s not like it’s gross to Louis or anything. He just...He doesn’t know if he’ll be able to watch
Harry like that. Like, at the foot of the bed. South of the Equator. In that much pain.

It’s starting to make Louis question his ability to take care of Harry in labor, but the thought is
fleeting. This is what he’s always wanted. In a way, he’s been prepared for it for years.

He seriously can’t believe they’re at the end already. It seems like only months ago they were on
their bonding platform together, fighting back tears while vowing their lives to one another. Seems
like just weeks ago they were laying on South American beaches on their honeymoon, Louis
praying every night that the pregnancy would take, that out of all their nights of mating, he’d really
make Harry pregnant. It was like just days ago Harry was looking in the mirror scrutinizing his
stomach for not popping out yet.

And now here they are. At their last childbirth class. Weeks away from seeing their baby girl.

This. This is what Louis’s meant to do. To be Harry’s Alpha, his mate. The father of his kids.

“When you gonna come outta there, huh?” Louis asks Harry’s stomach that night in bed. He’s
taken to just speaking to Olivia all the time now instead of just when Harry’s asleep.

“Any day now would be lovely,” Harry murmurs from up by the pillows.

Louis grins up at Harry. “But you should totally take your time,” he says to Olivia again, “and
build up those lungs so you can sing like your Papa.”
He waits for Harry to make a quip back, but just then, Harry’s stomach moves. Like, a visible foot
or something--maybe a hand--presses out, making the skin itself move. Louis gasps.

“Oh, my God,” he whispers.

“She’s flipping,” Harry settles back in bed and says. “She has all this room when I’m on my back
like this.”

It mesmerizes Louis, watching Harry’s stomach move. There’s a live little person inside. Ten
fingers. Ten toes. A head of hair that’s already visible on the sonograms they have of her. The little
black and white pictures cover a little corkboard Harry’s set up above their dresser, and Louis’s
memorized the little curve of her nose, the plumpness of her lips where she’s all squished up in
there, but nothing’s gonna compare to actually seeing her.

“You’re okay bein’ on your back like this? Not the best position, is it?”

Harry pulls the pregnancy pillow under him to the side and grunts as he rolls onto his side.

“Not good to lay like that for too long, no,” Harry answers, yawning. “She keeps kicking my ribs
when I’m on my side, though. I can’t get comfortable.”

Louis crawls up the bed and gets under the covers behind Harry. The horseshoe-looking pregnancy
pillow surrounding Harry’s entire front and back keeps him from being able to properly spoon him,
so that sucks, but Louis hopes its cushioning gives some type of relief to Harry. He’s got to really
be feeling it at this point, every single pound gained.

He’s such a champ. Louis’s so lucky. This has to be the biggest, most special gift anybody’s ever
given him.

The lights are off, but Louis fixes his gaze at the calendar that’s hanging on the wall next to the
corkboard. There in the middle of the month is a date circled in red. The date they’ve been awaiting
for months. “Two weeks now, baby.”

“Then baby,” Harry tiredly mutters.

Louis chuckles. “Yeah. Then baby."

Harry thinks that Louis did a good thing for himself a few weeks ago by going out drinking with
Calvin. They didn’t go into the city, though; Louis had been too nervous to be that far away from
home. Instead, they’d just gone to local bars, and just like Louis said he would, he got pretty drunk,
and when he’d come home, he’d staggered into the bedroom practically giggling, all the stress and
worry that’s been hardening his face lately gone. Harry had happily undressed his useless corpse
that night, and he’d even put up with his snoring. The price to pay for a night of fun.

After that, though, Louis literally was immediately back to the grind with school and work, and
that’s been on top of Harry’s childbirth classes he’s been attending, on top of all the stuff he’s still
doing for Harry, doting on him, and on top of still searching for nearby land to buy.

Harry doesn’t know how he does it. All he knows is that right now in bed, he’s sitting up
surrounded by a dozen soft pillows, and his Alpha’s behind him rubbing his shoulders and his neck
and his back, and he’s just the luckiest omega alive because it feels so good that Harry might turn
into jelly.

“How is this so good,” Harry murmurs.

“I watched what that Beta did at that spa we went to,” Louis tells Harry, pressing his thumbs
deeply into Harry’s lower back, making him groan unabashedly for about the fifth time. “Watched
your face. Listened to you. Took mental notes.”

“Louis,” Harry tries to chide, even with all the pleasure Louis’s currently making him feel from
touching his fucking aching back so fucking perfectly. “You were supposed to be relaxing at that
spa.”

“I was relaxing. Watching you was relaxing.”

Harry doesn’t comment, just slumps into the sensations of the perfect pressure Louis’s giving his
back. It’s been hurting so bad lately, and he knows it’s just because he’s carrying so much weight
now; he knows it won’t last forever. Still, sometimes, like a few days ago, it gets so achy and sore
that he just cries. But he won’t mention that to Louis because it’ll just worry him.

Luckily, though, Louis had offered a back rub instead of a foot rub tonight after dinner, and Harry
had nodded so fast he hurt his head.

“God, Louis,” Harry murmurs as Louis rubs his hands up the meat of his back on either side of his
spine and then into his shoulders where he kneads the muscles there for a while. “Mmmmm.”

He hears Louis chuckle at him; he doesn’t care. It feels too good. When Louis starts working
Harry’s neck again, mmmm. It gives Harry honest-to-God chills. Then it’s back down Harry’s
back and into that achy spot at the bottom, those two little pressure-points of pain that make Harry
whine high-pitched when Louis touches them. “Right there. Unngh, right there, Louis.”

“You sound like you’re coming,” Louis says against the skin of Harry’s neck.

“Feels good,” Harry slurs. He remains sitting there with his legs straight out, Louis’ legs framing
his, when he gets an idea. This really does feel good, so good Harry’s probably hard in his sleep
pants. If his belly weren’t blocking his view of his lap. He’s feeling greedy, so he moves a little
further back into Louis’ body, his ass coming into contact with the front of Louis’ boxers as he
settles closer.

When he rests his head back on Louis’ shoulders, matching his back up to Louis’ bare chest, it
forces Louis to move his hands out from in between their bodies. Automatically, they wrap around
Harry’s front, covering the cotton of Harry’s stretched out t-shirt.

Louis doesn’t smirk at Harry, not really. His mouth just has an amused curve. “What’re you
doing,” he says. He doesn’t ask it. It’s not even a question.

“It’s been a long time,” Harry just murmurs, hands on top of Louis’ knees, thumbs stroking
absently. Louis makes some noise of agreeance.

“You haven’t been in the mood lately,” Louis reminds him softly, fingertip trailing the line of
goosebumps on one of Harry’s forearms now. Back and forth.

“I could be now,” Harry suggestively responds, chancing a flirtatious peek back at Louis. Louis
presses a kiss to the warm, salty skin of Harry’s neck.
“Could be, huh?” he whispers into Harry’s ear. He moves his hands a little bit down Hary’s
stomach, then right back up. Harry covers both his hands with his own. “Is Baby okay?”

“Yeah.” Harry smiles. “She’s okay.”

“And Papa?” Louis asks, kissing up to Harry’s ear now.

“Yeah, he’s good, too.”

“Just good? Then let me make him feel better,” Louis murmurs.

Harry inhales and then exhales. Already he feels it, the press of Louis against the small of his back
where just moments ago he was hurting and now he’s feeling so very good. When Louis starts
rubbing up and down Harry’s arms, lightly massaging them, too, Harry makes a tiny noise that
Louis must take as his cue.

“Tell me what you want, baby.”

Harry squeezes his eyes shut. “Just want you in me,” he says, his neck rolled all the way to the
side.

“My fingers? My mouth?” Louis gently nibbles at Harry’s neck. He shifts his hips a little so Harry
can feel his growing bulge.

“All of it,” Harry breathes out. “Wanna feel it.”

That doesn’t even sound sexy whatsoever--it’s just the truth--but Louis groans.

They move against each other after that, awkward as it is with how they’re sitting. It’s slow kissing
and gentle caresses that turn into firmer touches and kisses growing sloppy, saliva stringing. When
the desperation for something more builds greater, Louis moves and lays Harry down on his side,
and when Harry’s situated on top of all the pillows, Louis just starts all over again, gentle and slow.
Caressing all over. They kiss until their mouths are sore.

“Can I take your shirt off, baby?” Louis asks when Harry’s gotten so impatient for something he’s
squirming.

With some grunts, Harry pushes himself to sit up in bed again. “I can--” he just says before taking
off his shirt himself. The cool air of the room hits his skin. He looks down.

He’s so round. He’s huge and round and uncomfortable, and oddly vulnerable, but Louis’s next to
him looking at him like he’s porn. It’s almost strange how aroused he looks. Harry almost wants to
cover up, his skin almost so stretched it’s at the point of causing scars, his tattoos looking
ridiculous, but Louis’ eyes are just so heavy on him. He manages to lay down on the bed again,
this time half on his side and half on his back, propped up with the help of the numerous pillows,
and Louis immediately reaches out to touch his stomach.

“I can’t believe it,” Louis whispers. “I mean, I can, I see you every day,” he babbles, “but oh my
God. You’re--you’re so pregnant.”

Louis’ hands are reverent as they move around his stomach, and Harry bites back a giggle
imagining that Louis’ stroking a crystal ball or something, because he knows that Louis is insanely
turned on by this. He's wanted it forever, has talked about it during every single rut for the past
year. It’s clearly not just been something he’s just said while in the heat of mating. Obviously, he
really, really likes this.
When Harry notices Louis staring at his nipples and practically drooling, though, he gives him a
look that’s kind of like “Really?” and Louis looks unapologetically turned on.

“I know, I know, but Haz--You have no fucking idea.”

Harry just bites his lip. He knows Louis sees the little changes, all the extra tissue behind the
nipples. The roundness from the fluid getting ready inside the ducts there.

Louis’ voice is low when he asks, “Do they hurt?”

Harry shakes his head. “They’re just swollen,” he admits.

Louis starts speaking but has to clear his throat. “Can I…”

Wordlessly, Harry nods, and Louis reaches out to trace Harry’s nipples.

Together, Harry and Louis both watch Louis’ fingers actually move over Harry’s nipples, both of
them reacting in seconds, no longer hard and tight but now soft and puffy. Responsive to even the
lightest of Louis' touches right now, Harry shudders.

“That’s so hot.” Louis’ voice is like air, almost nonexistent. He’s staring at Harry’s nipples like
they’re the answer to life itself. Then he leans closer and starts to suck at one, tonguing at it quickly
as he does. It's not light anymore.

Harry physically can’t, but if he could, he’d arch impossibly up into Louis’ hold. He feels--he feels
this in his stomach, he feels this in his gut, he feels it in his ass with the way he gets slicker.

Louis’ eyes are closed in bliss, a possessive rumble vibrating deep in his throat, his hand kneading
the tissue that’s formed there so that Harry can feel his fingers and his lips and his tongue all at
once.

Harry can’t deal with everything he’s feeling. He pushes on Louis’ head. “Lou, you gotta--”

Louis lifts his face, and just the noise his mouth makes as he pops off makes Harry fucking wetten.
“Too much?”

“I’m--” Harry nods his head. He doesn’t know. “I think, yeah, I think so.”

Louis lays off then but still kisses Harry’s other nipple. “God. Wanna make you leak.”

“Jesus.” Harry shudders again. “Well, you sorta are.”

Louis’ nostrils flare as he and Harry both look down Harry’s body. “Get you outta those pants,”
Louis murmurs to himself, fingers already travelling to the elastic of Harry’s sleep pants. He slides
them down.

“I’m pretty sure this is gonna be awkward,” Harry says when, together, they manage to get his
pajamas all the way off.

“No,” Louis reassures, touching him everywhere. He’s being gentle, barely even stroking Harry’s
dick, just sort of cradling it possessively. Harry normally doesn’t get that wet there, but he’s
leaking onto Louis’ deft fingers, and he’s already coating his back thighs, too. “No, no. It’s not
awkward at all, baby.”

“I’m huge.”
Somehow, without even removing his hand from Harry, Louis kicks off his boxers, and when he’s
naked, his free hand goes to his own cock. “You’re beautiful,” Louis corrects.

“I guess I can be both,” Harry chuckles, still trying to get himself comfortable on the bed. His
center of gravity is so off right now. How are they gonna do this?

Louis grins. “There you go. Finally gettin' it. But you're still not huge.” His thumb does some sort
of circle motion on the tip of Harry’s dick, and Harry gasps.

"You’re pretty huge, though."

Louis jacks himself a little, grunting in response to Harry. "Yeah, baby, I am."

Harry just continues laying there, just feeling it as Louis slowly jacks him off, removes his hand,
and then trails his fingers into the cleft of his ass.

“Roll back on your side and put a pillow in between your knees,” Louis tells Harry. “I’m gonna eat
you out.”

“Gonna be weird,” Harry murmurs, but he complies. The action helps open him up some.

“No, it fucking won’t be,” Louis utters, sounding like a fucking animal, and Harry hugs all the
pillows in front of his torso and around his head and just waits. It’s like being caccooned in a cloud.

Harry feels Louis’ hands spread open his cheeks, and he hears the low vibration of Louis saying
something, but he can’t make it out. When Louis’ tongue finally meets Harry’s slick, Harry’s knees
shake against the pillow that’s keeping them open, and already, Harry puts his hand into his mouth
to bite when he feels like sounding out.

Alternating with long, slow licks and then sucking slurps, Louis eats Harry out lazily at first,
drawing all sorts of noises from Harry, but he keeps them low in volume. He’s so sensitive that all
of the little slippery flicks, all of the hums against his rim, all of Louis, builds into an orgasm
extremely easily, and the second after Louis sticks two fingers inside and curls them, it hits Harry
in one go.

Harry comes on Louis’ face with an “Ah!” and a few staggered grinding motions forward onto the
pillow between his legs. Afterwards, his entire body feels rigid, and it doesn’t help when Louis just
starts licking him again.

Harry hisses when he feels Louis’ tongue lap up his slick again, but almost immediately, it’s
comforting and pleasurable again. Louis’s so ardent with it, so slow and precise, just licking him
clean, then Harry can only sigh and continue laying there, hugging the soft clouds of pillows to his
body once more.

After moments of nothing but long ball-to-rim licks, Louis eats Harry more fervently. His fingers
once again hold him open on either side of his hole to give his tongue better access inside, and like
always when Louis does that, Harry ‘hhnngghs’. It builds up inside him again, that sensitive-sharp
arousal, and Harry has to grip onto the headboard of the bed, too afraid he might float away even as
heavy as he is right now.

“Give me another,” Louis says, now starting to finger Harry again. He speaks so quietly that Harry
can barely make out his words until he says it again, louder, deeper. “Give me another one, baby,
c’mon.”

Louis sits up on his knees then, right hand still buried inside Harry, left hand kneading his thigh.
“Now I can see your pretty face,” he says, and Harry covers his mouth again with the hand that’s
not holding onto the headboard, and he squeezes his eyes shut, coming in waves onto Louis’ hand.

When it’s over and Harry’s entire stomach feels hard as wood from contracting so much in orgasm,
Louis still doesn’t let up. It’s like he’s making up for the past few weeks of nothing all in one
night. Harry doesn’t think he can come again on Louis’ tongue, but again, it doesn’t seem to be
Louis’ goal; he just goes right back to lapping all of Harry’s orgasm up. When he’s satisfied, he sits
back up on his knees and just stares at Harry, panting. His cock almost looks harder than Harry’s
ever seen it. He wipes his mouth off with the back of his hand, and he and Harry just watch one
another for a bit.

It’s always gotten Harry off, how much Louis gets off from eating him out. And it’s obvious he
has: he almost looks like a predator if Harry didn’t recognize the face for what it really is--
undisguised lust. His hair is unruly, his breathing erratic, his face shiny. He stares at Harry like that
for several moments, fingers eventually combing back his hair where sweaty strands have fallen
down onto his forehead. His eyes speak to Harry to tell him he could do what he’d just been doing
for the entire night, and Harry’s almost sure he’s about to lower his face again and do just that
when he instead fixes his gaze on Harry’s swollen chest.

Only the side is visible, but Louis doesn’t seem to care. Immediately hinging forward, Louis
suckles there with no preamble, just all mouth and tongue, just as insistent as ever. He looks at
Harry from under his eyelashes as he continues, and Harry doesn’t think he’s ever felt this
sensation in his life. Harry’s hand moves to Louis’ head but just stays suspended above his hair,
not sure if he wants to put his hand there and press Louis further onto his nipple or if he wants to
back away from the sensation altogether.

“Let me,” Louis utters, and then again: “Let me,” like he’s asking, like he’s begging, and Harry--
yeah, he’s not used to that. He just moves a little so he’s kind of on his back again and then holds
onto Louis' head, fingers at his ears where his hair meets the skin.

Louis starts suckling.

“Oh, my God. Oh, my God.”

“Mmhh, I can taste it,” Louis murmurs against Harry.

“Oh, my God.”

Louis’ entire face smells sweet from Harry’s slick, and now this. It’s seriously too much. “Louis, I
can’t really--” Harry shakes his head. “I really can’t,” he whines.

Louis’ mouth pops off Harry’s chest again. His chest is rising and falling so loudly that Harry
wonders momentarily why he’s tried being so careful about hiding the noises of his previous
orgasms; anyone nearby could tell what they’re doing by Louis’ exerted breathing alone.

Louis moves the tiniest bit to the other side of Harry, presses the tip of his huge cock to Harry’s
hole and taps there, and Harry, mouth stupid-open, just nods. Louis gets fully behind Harry then,
tries to press inside, and then tries again. Harry’s so slick, and his legs aren’t open enough like this-
-

“I can--” Harry shakes his head and starts to push himself up a little. He shoves all the pillows
except one off the bed. After knee-walking to the center of the mattress facing the headboard, he
bends downwards and lays his face on the pillow, keeping his ass up. When Louis gets with the
program and moves behind him, he utters the single word “pretty” at seeing Harry fully exposed.
When Louis slides the wet head of his dick down Harry’s crack, Harry sharply inhales. He turns
his head back to watch as Louis lines up and pushes in, and when his cockhead slips inside,
stretching him wide, he and Louis both sound out. Louis doesn’t move for a bit, just smooths his
hands along Harry’s sides, running from waist to thigh in a steady stroke. Harry quickly breathes,
and so does Louis.

Slowly, Louis pushes in more, and Harry's mouth opens in a soundless moan. He hasn’t felt
anything like this inside in so long. He can’t think right now or else he’d be trying to remember
exactly when it was. And Louis must be feeling the same way; he remains completely still, just
trembling.

They make eye contact when Louis’ thighs are flush against Harry’s ass cheeks.

“Talk to me, baby,” Louis beckons, and Harry realizes how quiet he’s been. “You good?”

Tightly, Harry nods. “You’re really--I’m really full.”

“Shit. I know. You’re fucking--Haz, you’re--” Louis’ voice is a stunned whisper. “God, I can go
deeper, I can get more inside.”

Louis pushes in a bit more, making Harry gasp, and God, this is--”This is like the first time,” he
moans. It’s like a foreign sensation, being filled so, so completely by something so, so
unforgivingly big and hard, to the point where the stretch is bright, bringing a sharp edge to the
pleasure at first.

“A little different than the first time,” Louis gruffly replies, his hands holding onto Harry’s hips
now, fingertips on the bottom swell of his stomach.

Louis goes slow, backing out to only push back in halfway, carving his way in, and Harry loses
himself in it. Louis always reads Harry's body so well, knowing what he needs, what he can take,
and when he actually starts thrusting in and out all the way, it's not the least bit uncomfortable
anymore.

Again, Harry bites down on the back of his hand when skin starts slapping skin, just going with the
motions of this, not even trying to push back onto Louis. “Forgot how--good this is.”

“My God, you’re so wet,” Louis whispers, like a secret he’s telling himself. “Think I’m gonna--”

“Do it,” Harry groans onto his hand. “Do it,” he repeats, knowing that he’ll come when Louis does
‘cause he always does when he’s being knotted--

But he won’t get a knot. Harry misses being knotted so much. So close to his due date, it’d be
uncomfortable to be tied to Louis right now, but still, he misses it. He wants it. He wants the
feeling of Louis’ dick growing in him before the knot pops, stretching him even more to the
absolute limit, flooding Harry with cum, making him instantaneously come himself. He feels
greedy and emotional for it right now, cheated that he can’t have it.

It’d be funny, but it’s not. Because Harry’s really fucking sensitive right now and he misses Louis’
knot.

It’s just a want. A deep desire Harry can’t shake. And it’s stupid; he’s about as pregnant as he can
be, days from giving birth, and he’s already thinking of Louis knotting him and getting him
pregnant again. Getting stretched so impossibly wide…He might be making loud noises now,
whimpers and whines for Louis’ knot he won’t get.
“Can you--”

Louis quickly glances ahead at Harry, and Harry can barely see his eyes; his hair is damp and
matted on his forehead. He keeps his hands on Harry’s hips, though, making no move to swipe it
out of the way.

“Harder.”

Louis takes the challenge with a firm set to the jaw, snapping his hips in faster. He doesn’t go as
hard as Harry knows is within him, but Harry understands. And when Louis stops thrusting so
quickly to instead go into a deep, molten grind, Harry has no complaints. Again, he holds onto the
now-loudly-clanking headboard with his hands and tries pushing his chest up with his elbows since
his nipples are chafing against the bedsheets. The shift, as small as it is, changes something, and
Louis must know, ‘cause of course he does, and he wraps a hand around to Harry’s dick and starts
pumping, and Harry feels everything then. Orgasming this late in his pregnancy is wild. His entire
stomach clenches up, hardening once more; then his balls come, tightening up; his dick spurts out
onto Louis’ hand; his ass tightens around Louis’ cock while his slick comes out in waves.

Louis fucks him through it perfectly, with hard, purposeful thrusts. “Yeah, yeah, God, yeah, baby.
God, some part of me--some part of me wants you like this always, I swear--already wanna fill you
up with more--” And then he pulls out of Harry before making a harsh, cut-off sound. Harry
immediately feels hot liquid coat his ass.

Shaking, Harry collapses, and all he smells around him after that is Louis’ skin. The come-down
from everything lasts forever, it seems. Harry doesn’t remember being wiped clean, but he is. Or
maybe he’s licked clean again, he thinks, and he giggles out loud. From beside him, Louis stirs.
The pillows are back on the bed again, and Harry’s covered in a sheet.

“There you are,” Louis gently says. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” Harry answers. “I just think I’m high?”

Louis chuckles. “Oh, yeah?”

“Like, I don’t feel bad right now. Not at all.”

“That’s every Alpha’s dream post-sex phrase to hear.”

Harry weakly swats at Louis. “Like, I don’t feel pregnant. I feel like...A billion happy cells.” Harry
closes his eyes with a small smile on his face. When he peeks over at Louis, he’s got his hands
behind his head with his elbows resting on the pillows. Naked, he grins in pure, unfiltered Alpha
pride. “Damn, I love you,” Harry sighs at him.

“Love you more,” Louis grins and says. He’s got his tongue in between his teeth, almost like he’s
biting it, and then he crosses his eyes for a minute before looking back at Harry with an even
bigger grin, still biting his tongue. Maybe he’s a little bit high, too. They both are acting so goofy.

The air settles into that quiet state of noise that’s only found in the dead of night, and Harry and
Louis lay next to one another silently, winding their overcharged bodies down. Harry wonders if
anyone heard them. Doesn’t care.

“Whatcha thinkin’?” Harry asks Louis.

Louis reaches out and uselessly fixes some of Harry’s hair, pushing it off his face when it’s just
going to keep falling in the same place. He wets his lips and gazes at Harry, almost longingly, but
too content for that. Like he has everything he wants already, so there’s nothing really to long for.

“I just...I feel like we’re where we belong, you know? That this is what I’ve wanted to do for so
long.”

“Be a dad?”

Louis nods. “Be with you, be a dad, all of it. Get a house with you. Have more kids.” He softly
smiles.

“You’re in your element,” Harry whispers to Louis, reaching out his hand. Louis takes it and
intertwines their fingers.

By now, Harry has memorized every single crease by Louis’ eyes, every single facial expression he
has. The way his eyelids turn down at the sides, the length of his eyelashes. The hair that grows on
his face and sometimes neck. His very pores. Harry hopes their baby looks just like him.

“Yeah.”

Harry happily sighs and closes his eyes. “I can’t believe it’s gonna be any day now.”

“Mm.” Louis leans forward and kisses Harry’s forehead before settling back on his own pillow.
“Believe it, buddy.”

Harry cracks open an eye. “Don’t call me buddy.”

It’s past midnight when Louis wakes up to Harry groaning on his side next to him.

“Haz?” Louis blinks a few times to adjust to the darkness of the room then slips a hand on Harry’s
hip. “Need the Tums? What’s wrong?”

“Cramps,” Harry mumbles. “‘M fine. Go back t’bed.”

"What? What kind of cramps? Your back’s already hurtin’ again?"

"Nothing, Lou. 'S fine. Go back to bed."

“No, what do you mean, cramps? What kind of cramps?”

“My back hurts.”

Louis frowns. He’d hoped the massage he’d given him earlier would’ve helped him longer than
just a few hours. “I know you won’t take any, but do you want Tylenol?”

Harry just shakes his head. Louis watches him intently for a few more moments until Harry sighs
and opens his eyes again.

“Will you help me up?” he asks reluctantly, as if Louis would ever mind. “I need to go pee.”

Instantly, Louis sits up. “‘Course.”

Louis helps Harry step into his pajamas and then escorts him slowly down the hallway to the
bathroom where he waits in front of the toilet as he pees. After he’s done, Louis holds out his hands
and helps Harry stand, then he walks him back to their bedroom just as carefully.

Louis uselessly adjusts the pregnancy pillow for Harry, kind of just fluffing it up, before Harry gets
back in the bed. Louis notices him wincing as he lays down, and once the covers are back on him
again, Louis doesn’t miss the flash of pain covering his face.

Louis gets under the blanket with him and reaches out to touch his back. Harry twitches away from
his touch. “Your back hasn’t hurt you this bad before, Haz.”

“I’m fine,” Harry tiredly mumbles again, pain lacing his voice. “Go back to sleep.”

Instead of going back to sleep, Louis does the exact opposite; he flips back the covers and basically
hops out of bed. After stumbling into his boxers, he walks straight through the house--followed by
Bruce--and up the stairs until he’s outside his mother’s bedroom, where he knocks continuously at
the door until there’s an answer.

“Harry says he’s got cramps,” Louis tells his mom when she comes to the door. Her hair’s messy,
and she’s rubbing her eyes.

“Well, that’s what happens when you’re pregnant,” she slurs, still half-asleep.

“No, Mom, like--bad cramps. His face is all in pain. They woke him up. Can you just come down
and look at him?” Louis asks, and Jay wipes her sleepy eyes once more and nods.

They walk into Louis’ bedroom together, Bruce leading the way and Jay going entirely too slowly
for Louis’ liking, and Louis puts his hand on Harry’s back once he approaches the bed again.
“Sweetie, baby, my mom’s here.”

“Seriously, Louis?” Harry says with a sleep-thickened voice. “I’m okay. My back hurts a little bit,
that’s all.”

Jay nods seriously. “The same kind of hurt you said from earlier this week?”

Louis frowns. “You’ve been hurting more this week? Besides just today?”

“It’s not been bad, Louis. It’s--Twinging...a crampy kind of, like...weird thing.”

“But why didn’t you say something to me?” Louis asks Harry.

“Because it’s nothing.”

“How often are you feeling it now?” Jay asks. “Regularly?”

“I dunno. Not that much. I’ve been trying to sleep, so I haven’t been paying attention, really, but
yeah, I guess off and on all night. Since...Since a little while ago.”

“Could I feel your stomach?” Jay asks. Again, Harry just nods, and Jay steps forward. Louis
doesn’t know what she’s doing, but she keeps her hand on the swell of Harry’s stomach and then
after some time passes, she just nods. “Alright,” she says. “It’d be a good idea to try to relax and
get some sleep. You too, Louis. I’ll check you again in the morning, Harry.”

“That’s all? But isn’t this serious?” Louis asks his mom. "Is this it?"

“First pregnancy,” she just replies, shrugging. “It could be tomorrow, or it could be next week. Or
the week after that.”

“Couldn’t you, like…” Louis looks to Harry’s crotch. “Check him somehow down there?"

Harry almost growls at Louis.

“There’s no need to get that invasive just yet,” Louis’ mom answers.

“What if this is it, though?” asks Louis again, urgently.

Jay breathes in deeply, motioning for Louis to do the same. She releases her breath slowly out of
her mouth. “Relax. Come get me if it gets worse. There’s no need to worry just yet.”

“He’s not due for another week,” Louis sharply whispers to his mother.

“This is normal. This is okay. I see this all the time, Louis,” his mom tells him. “I’ve seen it all,
remember? It’s okay. Just relax.” She reaches out to ruffle Louis’ already-messy hair, then she
walks out of the room.

Louis pauses for a moment and then follows her, shutting the door behind him. “Mom,” he
whispers, putting a hand on her shoulder to stop her. “Mom, seriously, listen. I have a serious
question.”

She puts her fingers to her temples, rubbing a little, and then nods blearily.

Louis looks to the side and sighs. “Look. We--We haven’t been--since we moved in here, me and
Harry haven’t...you know. You get what I’m talking about?”

“Louis.” She looks at him blankly. “I’m too tired for this.”

“No, no, listen. But last night we did...you know.”

“Well, congratulations, son,” his mom tells him, continuing to walk away again.

“Mom!” Louis whisper-shouts. “Listen. What if I made this happen? What if I caused him to go
into labor?”

Louis’ mom pauses again. “Honey, please stop stressing. Harry’s fine. You didn’t cause anything.
He’s fine. If this is early labor, it’s early labor. If it’s false labor, it’s false labor. Either way, he
needs rest right now. And so do I."

Louis nods. He watches his mom pad off down the hall. “I really feel like you’re in labor, Haz,” he
says once he climbs back in bed next to Harry.

“Oh, you really feel?” Harry mumbles.

“Yes,” replies Louis, purposefully ignoring Harry’s sarcasm, “I do. You’re having contractions.”

“The books and childbirth classes said this would happen,” Harry reminds Louis, screwing his face
up out of discomfort as he tries again to resettle into a sleeping position. “This is just the start. I
don’t want to get too excited, ‘cause then I’ll use up all my energy. I just need to go back to sleep.”

“But…” Louis racks his brain for something to do. He needs to do something. “Are you sure?”

“First-time labor takes a long time,” Harry reminds him, pulling up the covers. “If you paid
attention in the classes, you’d know this.”
“I did,” Louis argues quickly. “Baby, I did.”

Harry nods again, eyes closed again. Louis doesn’t like the way his face doesn’t look peaceful.

“Can I rub your back?”

Harry shakes his head. “I need to just sleep.”

Louis doesn’t sleep for shit the rest of the morning. While discreetly looking at his watch every
time he hears Harry move around or make a noise, he times how long between each contraction.
His mom and Harry are calling them cramps, but he knows what they really mean. Some time in
the very mid-morning hours when Harry actually falls into a deep sleep, so does Louis, but he
suddenly wakes up to a bright room and Harry breathing quickly beside him, and he sits up.

He rubs his eyes quickly. “Har--What’s that smell?”

Harry tightly winces, holding his stomach. A moment later, his grip loosens and his eyes get huge.
“Ewww. I’m...it’s all wet everywhere.”

Louis feels like he’s paralyzed, and he just looks at Harry’s stomach. “What do I do?”

“Um.” Harry pushes the covers back. “I need to get up.”

“Wait here.”

Louis jumps out of bed and scurries down the hall, past the den, and runs up the stairs two-at-a-
time. At the top, he sprints to his mother’s room and knocks on the door. He feels adrenaline rush
through his body, like his body is in protection-mode overdrive. “Moooom!” he yells, now banging
on the door. “Mom!”

He opens the door after a few more moments of her not answering, and he sees a perfectly-made
bed and no one in the bedroom at all. He bolts back downstairs and into the kitchen where he’d
obliviously run right past his mother just minutes ago.

“His water broke,” Louis announces to the room.

Jacob happily smiles from the kitchen table where he’s sitting drinking coffee. “Oh, how exciting.”

“Okay, calm down,” Jay says reassuringly. “There’s no need to panic. This is normal.”

“Yeah, you keep saying that,” Louis agrees, “but it’s happening.”

“Well, what did you think would happen?” James asks, walking next to Jacob and putting his hands
on his shoulders. He rubs there gently.

Why is everybody so calm?

“Shouldn’t we take him to the omega center now just in case?” Louis asks, trying to lead his
mother to the bedroom for Harry. “This is happening earlier than we thought it would.”

His mom starts walking. “No, honey. He said he didn’t want that. We have everything here that the
centers have.”

“But--”

“Everything smells like you and him in there. It’s what he wants. It’ll make him more comfortable
than he’d be somewhere else. I do lots of home-births, Louis. And we talked about all this before,
he’s still full-term even though he’s going into labor a little early. The baby’s still developed. He’s
due in seven more days; it’s really not that early.”

Louis pulls at his hair. “This is stressful.”

“Maybe you should just wait outside the room then,” Jay says as she approaches the bedroom
door. “This is a long process.”

“Are you crazy?! I’m not leaving him.”

“Then once you’re in there, you’re gonna have to stay quiet and stay still, son,” she tells him. “It’s
gonna be an all-day thing. You realize that, right? You can’t keep biting your nails like this. It’s
going to affect him. He needs as much tranquility as he can get right now. Get him to his nest and
lay with him. He’s uncomfortable.”

“Yeah, real uncomfortable,” Louis mutters under his breath as he walks inside the bedroom and
witnesses Harry--redressed in new clothes--stripping the bed. “What are you doing?”

“The bed’s all wet.”

Louis steps in. “I’ll take care of it, Haz. Go to the nest. I’ll be there in a minute.”

With Louis’ help, Harry walks to the little nook at the far edge of the room where they’ve made
their baby’s little nursery. The nest is in the corner of it now, a big pile of sheets and clothing and
other things Harry’s been sneaking and adding to it throughout the past few weeks. Louis helps
Harry carefully lay down atop everything, then watches as his mom approaches him and starts
touching him. Louis fixes up their bed, getting a deep, deep scent of Harry as he does so, and the
smell is so different than anything Louis’s ever smelt before. It’s like...it’s like another scent along
with Harry’s, and Louis knows it’s their child. They’re gonna have a child. Louis’s gonna be able
to hold her soon.

For goodness’ sake, he has to get it together. The childbirth classes warned him of this. He makes
himself stand still for a minute and just breathe.

The nursery is dark and quiet. Louis lays next to Harry in the nest all afternoon, and he either
emails or texts everybody about what’s going on--family, professors, his boss. For most of the day,
Harry just rests, but from time to time he gets on all fours, leans his forearms on a pillow
underneath him, and drops his head between his hands. With his hips spread wide, he rocks
steadily to the left and right. It’s a strikingly similar pose to the one last night, but now his body’s
preparing for something else. They’re going to be able to hold their baby soon. God, Louis's so
jittery and nervous he doesn't know what to do.

Louis stays where he is and waits for instruction, but he gets none, not even when he asks, so he
just watches Harry silently labor, making sure he drinks and eats small things throughout the day.

The day passes slowly but in a blur. Louis doesn’t leave Harry’s side, and there’s so much nervous
anticipation on his behalf he can’t keep it inside. He texts Harry’s family, and later in the day, he
can tell that they’ve arrived at the house, but no one comes into the room to disturb Harry.

They’re quiet together. Louis holds him while Harry lays on his side. From time to time, he grips
Louis’ hand extra hard, breathing hitched up, and during those times, Louis knows to rub his lower
back in the certain spot he likes and apply counter-pressure there.

“Louis, I’m scared,” Harry admits.

“You’re doing so perfect,” Louis whispers to him. “Just a little longer. Gonna get to meet our new
baby soon,” he promises. “Real soon.”

It’s not until late that afternoon that things really get rolling, and when they do, they do. It’s like all
morning Harry’s been achy and uncomfortable but once the winter sun sets early, he’s in actual
pain. Louis can only sit on his knees beside Harry, watching him helplessly as he begins writhing
around in the nest, each contraction growing progressively worse until he’s constantly sounding out
with every single cramp he gets, sweating all over.

Harry grows more vocal as more time passes, going from gasping to groaning to bellowing to
actually hollering out in pain. It’s like that for another hour or so until Louis finally calls for his
mother to check on him and actually stay this time instead of silently fleeting in and out of the
room, and after that, she enters the nursery with a box of stuff and remains there. His uncle James
also comes in, and Louis growls at first--one other Alpha is enough, even if it’s his mom--but
James wisely stands off to the edge of the room and remains completely silent. Louis holds Harry’s
hand and uses a wet washrag to wipe his sweaty hair off his forehead, just watching helplessly as
the pain he’s feeling builds and builds. He’s not prepared for this. He wasn’t prepared for it to hurt
Harry this badly. He thought he was, but--Harry’s almost screaming on every third or fourth
contraction.

“Don’t fight the contractions, Harry,” Jay soothes Harry in a low, sure voice. “That’s the most
important thing. Don’t fight them. Just roll with them.”

Louis thinks of all the CDs Harry’s been listening to for the past few months in the car. Tranquil
music, some hippie omega’s voice speaking gently about riding the wave and going with the surge
and opening up like a flower. Louis doesn’t care if he sounds ridiculous as he bends down and
whispers all those things into Harry’s ear.

Harry’s twisting beside Louis, and Louis wishes he could absorb this pain for him and make it all
go away. Or take it upon himself. His mom’s brought in a small bowl of ice-water, and he’s using
it to switch out two washcloths back and forth for Harry’s head. The one he’d just put in Harry’s
forehead has already lost its coldness. Harry’s skin is so hot, and he’s breathing like he can’t get
enough air. He’s writhing like someone’s pressing hot pokers all over his skin. “Oowww, oowww,
ahh…”

“Slow, Harry,” Jay says. “In and out.”

“Ithurts,” Harry gasps. “Ithurtsithurts.”

“Get something to give to him,” Louis tells his mother urgently. It’s the hardest thing in the world
for him--trying to be strong while Harry’s in so much pain. God, it’s so hard--it’s so freaking hard.
Just last night, he was making Harry feel good, and now he’s in agony. “Look at him.”

“Too late to give him anything. And he doesn’t want anything. Doesn’t want to be offered
anything,” Louis’ mom replies. “Besides, we don’t even have anything to give.”

“Ithurtsithurtsithurtsithurts…”

“Breathe,” Jay instructs.

It goes on like that for at least another half-hour, but it feels like all night--Harry writhing on the
nest. Louis trying to help however he can. Jay and James silent and off to the side. Waiting.
Breathing. Soothing. After multiple contractions quick in succession, Harry’s just about soaked in
sweat, and his eyes are damp. He holds out his hand in front of his face, and he can’t keep it still.
“I’m so shaky. Oh, my God--this is so much.”

“Shaking is normal. It’s all part of it,” Jay tells him soothingly. “You’re getting closer. Try getting
up and walking, honey.”

"Now?" Louis looks at his mom and asks in shock.

"Gravity," she just says.

Harry’s mouth falls open in response, and he tightens his eyes. To try to get him to match his slow
breaths, Louis audibly breathes next to Harry through the contraction. Harry tightly nods and
breathes along with Louis. It’s a struggle, but it gets him through.

“Louis, walk around with him. See if it helps.”

Instructions. This is better. This Louis can do. He helps Harry to his feet, and they only make it the
few steps to their bed before Harry’s collapsing into the weight of Louis.

“God, you’re burning up, babe,” Louis whispers, easily catching him and letting him squeeze
wherever he wants to. His hand rests on the side of Harry’s stomach, and it feels hard as cement
under his fingers. “What else do you need? Do you want any water?”

“Stop--talking,” Harry grits out. “Ahhhh…”

Now Louis feels useless again.

In way too much pain to stand, Harry eventually sits down on the bed again. Someone has already
put towels out on it, and as Harry lays himself out, Jay comes in the room with all of the sheets
from the nest. She puts them behind Harry’s head and around him, and Harry tries to stay still
while she does so, but he’s wincing against the next contraction and moving his hands to grasp
anything he can reach.

“This hurts so bad.” Harry starts sobbing. “Louis, this hurts.”

Louis’ mouth twists down. “You’re doing so, so good, Harry,” he speaks into Harry’s ear. “You’re
doing so good. It’s almost over, okay? You’re almost done. We’re so close to seeing her.”

Harry’s mom is suddenly in the room, but she’s just waiting by the doorway, watching on. Jay
helps Harry out of his pajama pants, and Louis thinks--God, this is really it now. Harry’s naked
from the waist down, a wash cloth on his forehead, his gray t-shirt sweaty and stretched over his
rounded belly. Louis wipes his face with his hands.

“Your body will tell you when it’s time to push, and when you feel it, let it happen,” Jay instructs.

Harry’s eyes grow wide. “Mom,” he calls out. “Mom, help me, please, I can't do this.” Anne’s on
the other side of the bed the next instant.

“Breathe, Harry,” Louis tries to helpfully suggest. “Remember to breathe. Breathe, do your
breathing like we practiced.”

“Oh, fuck the breathing,” Harry growls. He squeezes Louis’ hand violently and calls out. “I can’t
do this,” he pants, shaking his head while squeezing Louis’ hand so hard it’s a wonder the bones
haven’t broken yet. “I can’t do this.”

“You can,” Louis says emphatically. He desperately wants to retract his hand from Harry’s grip,
but he can’t. He grimaces along with Harry and wishes his mate weren’t so fucking stubborn and
would just have asked to use some pain medication for this process. He’s in agony. “Mom?”

“Everything’s fine, Louis,” Jay says quietly. “You’re doing good, Harry. Keep it up.”

When Harry lets go of Louis’ hand, Louis pulls it into his chest and starts rubbing it, wincing.
There’s hardly a moment of peace before Harry’s in pain again, but without Louis’ hand holding
his, all he can grip is the side of the mattress. With his other hand, though, he reaches out for his
mother and squeezes her offered hand.

“You’re close,” Jay says. “When it’s time, it’ll almost be like your baby’ll birth herself. She's ready
to push herself down. You just have to help her along.”

Harry grimaces, his face red and sweaty. “I can’t do this.”

“You can,” Louis and Jay and Anne say at the same time.

In the next second, Harry bellows, low and animalistic and unlike anything Louis’s ever heard out
of his mouth before. Whatever Jay hears in the noise makes her go to the corner of the room and
get her box of supplies. When she starts putting on gloves, Louis’ face loses color. This is really it.

James is behind Louis. He gives him a warning look. “Breathe, Louis.”

“Don’t fight against the pain, honey,” Anne says. “Go with it. Push with it if your body’s telling
you to, but don’t strain.”

Harry starts grunting, and another noise that Louis’s literally never heard before escapes his
mouth, long and never-ending and loud. Louis stands beside Harry and tries to focus on something,
anything besides the noises Harry’s making as he clearly starts to push.

“Does it feel better when you push?” Louis’ mom asks Harry.

He’s letting out aborted breaths from his mouth, spittle coming out to fall on his bottom lip. He
collapses back onto the pillows and sheets behind him and nods at Jay. Anne fixes the washcloth
on his forehead.

“Good,” she replies. “Good, Harry, you can do this. Your body can do this. If it feels right, when
you have your next contraction, you can push again. I’m gonna ask you to hold your legs back
now.”

Harry shifts uncomfortably on the bed until he’s got his legs wide open and bent at the knees with
his hands behind the crook there, and he pulls them back until they’re beside both sides of his
torso. Mouth going dry, Louis watches his mom climb onto the end of the bed and crouch in
between Harry’s legs.

When his uncle painfully squeezes Louis’ shoulder, he stands upright again. He’s not going to
faint. He’s not going to faint. When Harry starts screaming, though, Louis can’t feel his knees.
There’s a lot of noise coming from Harry, but it almost feels like Louis’s in a tunnel. It’s surreal.

“Get--her--out!” Harry shouts.

“You’re doing great,” Jay tells Harry in a calm voice, like there’s nothing urgent going on right
now.

There’s a small moment that Harry uses to collect himself and breathe, but then in no time, his next
 contraction rolls over him, and he tightens his face again and sounds out.

“Focus all that energy you’re using on shouting to push, Harry,” Jay instructs him, and he stops
yelling out after that. “Yes, Harry, good, good. Yes, keep going, keep going, just like that. The
head’s already out! She’s almost here.”

Oh, God. Louis scrubs his face, his eyes damp. His mom’s down there talking about his baby
having hair, and Louis can’t see anything. He wants to move, wants to see things from the angle his
mom is at, but he just doesn’t think he can. His legs are like lead. Still, he instinctively bends down
and kisses Harry’s forehead, and it’s then he realizes Harry’s shaking. God.

As Harry births the rest of their baby, his face screws up and he screams so loudly it hurts Louis’
eardrums. Louis still can’t feel his knees. Can’t feel his stomach. When Harry’s scream stops,
Louis keeps his eyes on his mother in between Harry’s legs, waits for her to lift their baby Harry’s
just brought into the world.

It’s quiet. Louis waits and worries, not seeing or hearing anything, and the moment feels literally
like years, but then he can smell her, oh God he can smell their baby, and he just wants her to be
okay, wants Harry to be okay. He keeps his eyes on his mom, and time is suspended again, but
finally there’s a foreign cry, and then that’s her and there’s relief again. Louis releases the breath
he didn’t know he’d been holding.

Louis’ mom holds up their baby girl, beautiful and slimy and crying and bloody and so so small,
and Louis’ throat constricts like he’s gotten a bag of sand dumped in it. Gently, his mom wraps
their baby loosely in a small towel and hands her to Harry, who’s already reaching out for her,
sobbing. She’s placed on Harry’s still-swollen stomach, a cord coming out her own stomach, and in
the dark room, her eyes are squinted in confusion at what’s just happened. Harry’s trembling and
shaking and touching her everywhere, and Louis’s right there next to him looking down at his
daughter through blurry eyes, heart pounding out his chest while he kisses Harry's cheek and jaw
and ear and everything he can.

And, just like that, Louis’ life is forever changed. He’s a parent.

Chapter End Notes

me while writing this :

Louis has been excited for this for so long but also clearly worried and just anxious for
everything to be alright (as touched on in other chaoters). I never got into his bad
dreams or his real negative thoughts that came into his mind, but in this chapter some
of that anxiety clearly came through just because this is a high stress event: Harry's in
labor with their first child! I just think this would be a very realistic representation of
everything... so sorry if I stressed you out in a bad way or anything by reading it? But
everything's okay! Baby's here and the last chapter is just all newborn stuff.
 Chapter 8
Chapter Notes

I am sorry this took so long! I was so proud of myself for pumping out these chapters
so quickly and then got behind schedule with this one. Anyway, here it is now. enjoy!

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Twenty and Twenty-Two, March

In the moments after giving birth, Harry finds that despite how tired and sore his body suddenly is,
his entire consciousness revolves only around his baby. Labor has officially left him worn out, but
it’s amazing how, with his newborn daughter in his arms and his mate beside him, he doesn’t even
feel it. He only feels happiness.

Olivia’s here. She’s here, in Harry’s arms, fussing shrilly because she’s confused and wet and cold
and doesn’t know what’s going on, and Harry’s shushing her and holding her and crying all at the
same time, too; and Louis’s murmuring into Harry’s ear, reaching out to touch Olivia with fragile
fingers, and it’s finally all come together for them. It’s done. She’s here.

She’s here, smelling like--

“She’s like me,” Harry rushes out to Louis, his eyes so ridiculously wet. “She’s--Louis--” He lifts
his head to his mate for a moment before gazing back down at his daughter-- “She’s like me.”

Next to him, Louis nods, grinning. Harry sees him wipe his eyes. ”She looks like you, too.”

Harry smiles. His baby’s an omega, and she looks like him.

He holds Olivia and stares at her for a very, very long time, aware that he’s messy, aware that
people are all around the bed watching her, too. He gets to hold her. She’s his.

As much as Harry would like to enjoy the intimacy of scenting his daughter immediately and
shooing everyone out, birthing Oliva isn’t the last part of everything. After she’s semi-covered
with a soft towel that Harry delicately starts using to wipe her off, there’s still stuff that Harry has
to push out of his body, and after that, there’s still stuff that Jay has to do down between his legs.
She then presses on his stomach in a way that’s less than comfortable, too, and it’s about a twenty-
minute process. It’s all okay, though, because during it, Harry has Olivia’s warm body pressed to
his warm body, and he has Louis’ warm body pressed against his side, and he’s content to be in this
sort of cocooned shelter on the mattress like that, with all of their smells merging into a giant,
combined scent of home.

“You did such good work, baby,” Louis whispers low in his ear sometime after he takes a pair of
surgical scissors from his mom and cuts Olivia’s umbilical cord. Harry adjusts Olivia back on his
chest, and she just rests there, still mostly unclean but settled now, as Harry tilts his face up to his
mate. He’s immediately kissed, but he’s too tired to reciprocate. Louis wipes his sweaty hair out of
his eyes for him.

As wrung out as his body feels--contractions still plaguing his abdomen, his lower parts on fire, his
stomach now a loose pouch, his chest achy, his legs shakier than ever before--he’s still only
absorbed with Olivia. Staring at her. Studying her. The things you do when meeting someone, but
it’s different. He gets to touch, he gets to scent. He gets to recognize the little things about her that
look like Harry--her face, her nose, her ears, oh God--and the things that look like Louis--the shape
of her eyes, her mouth.

She’s so tiny. Her fingers are long but so small, her fingertips like dots. Harry’s eyes get moist
again. She’s an omega. Like him.

Everyone who was present for the delivery is still in the room, quietly moving around to clean stuff
up, and since they don’t stare at Harry, he doesn’t feel quite so watched anymore. Anyway, he
hardly has any modesty left right now. As Jay carefully takes Olivia from Harry to measure her and
take her weight, Harry finally covers his legs with a sheet.

At the end of the bed where Jay places Olivia, Harry’s mom takes some pictures with the flash off
on her camera, and Harry’s so anxious without her in his arms that he can’t explain it. When Jay’s
done (Olivia comes in at twenty inches long, seven pounds exactly), Harry gratefully and gingerly
accepts her back himself, happy to feel her cheek snuffling against his chest.

“Should I…” Harry looks down at his shirt. He hasn’t showered, and the heather-gray fabric is still
blotched with drying sweat and smears of blood. Still, it’s clear from the telling spots of liquid over
the shirt that his nipples are excreting something. “Should I feed her?” he asks, and he’s surprised
at how froggy his voice sounds.

“She’ll probably be too tired to eat immediately, but you can always try,” Harry’s mom tells him
quietly from the side of the bed. “If it’s not too weird for you, I can help you if you need it.”

Gratefully, Harry nods. He spends the next few moments trying to lead her mouth to his chest, but
she’s not really interested, so Harry guesses she’s okay for now.

“How long are you staying here?” he asks his mom.

Anne has her hand on Harry’s forehead, brushing back his hair in between little adoring gazes
down to her grandchild. “As long as you need me. Maybe I’ll move back into this house, too.” She
winks.

“Oh, please,” Harry mumbles, smiling.

Anne tucks a piece of hair behind his ear. “Honey, I’m so proud of you. You did so good.”

“You really did, Haz,” Louis gently agrees.

Harry shifts back into the sheets of the nest that are all wrinkled up behind him. “Yeah, right. It
hurt like crap.”

“I remember that pain,” his mom says. “I did it twice.”

“I thought I’d be...better. Thought it’d be easier.”

“You were a champ,” Louis firmly says. “Look at her. Look at what you did. She’s perfect.”

“She really is,” Harry says, and then his mom echoes it: “She really, really is.”

And Harry knows his mom is dying to hold Olivia, but Louis gets to first.
When Louis reaches out for Olivia, that’s a sight that almost has Harry’s eyes welling up again.
Watching Louis with their tiny baby in his arms.. watching Louis watch her with his face all lit
up... watching him adjust the little towel she’s in so her skin won’t be cold in the air of the room…
God, he’s going to be such an amazing father. Already is.

“Hi, I’m your daddy,” Louis whispers. “God, you look so much like your Papa. You’re perfect.”

Time has turned weird, so Harry can’t say how long he just lies on the bed, doing nothing but
watching Olivia, but in the time since giving birth, her skin has seemed to change from bluish to
pink and then to tan. Now it’s almost yellow, but she’s still covered in patches of white goop.

“When should we give her a bath?” Harry asks the room at large.

“Well, you can wipe her off now if you want, or you could take a shower first while one of us does
it,” Jay offers. “I wouldn’t suggest an actual bath for her yet.” She briefly looks at the towels
around Harry. He knows they’re dirty and gross, meaning he’s dirty and gross, but he doesn’t want
to pass off Olivia’s first bath to someone else.

“We’ll do it,” Louis speaks up for Harry, and that’s how, instead of an actual bath, Olivia gets
cleaned up with the same washcloths that Harry had had on his forehead while in labor with her, by
both Harry and Louis at the same time. Harry’s mom fills the bucket that had previously been
filled with ice for Harry to chew on with warm water, and Louis and Harry take turns dipping the
cloths in the water and wiping Olivia off. The smell of the baby soap is heavenly.

After that, Louis puts a diaper on her, and Harry wants to cry again just watching him; his mate is
so capable and so good and is so invested in this, and Harry is tired and emotional and soft. Louis
then picks out a little gown for her, which Harry carefully dresses her in, treating her like glass
before carefully swaddling her in a small blanket. After she’s fully dressed and appears to be
sleeping already, there’s nothing to prevent his mother and Louis’ mother from approaching the
bed, wanting their turn to hold their first grandchild.

With Olivia back in his arms again, Harry struggles to let go of her. Harry’s mom smiles at him
knowingly from the side of the room. “We know what we’re doing,” she says. “Promise.”

“You need a shower, babe,” Louis reminds him. “You’ll feel better, and then you can rest and hold
her all you want again.”

Harry nods, feeling like he’s giving away a part of him as he carefully lifts his elbows and places
Olivia into the cradle of his mom’s awaiting arms.

“Look how cute,” Anne coos to the sleeping baby. “Look at you. So, so perfect. Oh, I didn’t
introduce myself,” she whispers. “I’m your Papa’s mom. I wonder what you’re gonna call me
someday. Am I going to be just Grandma or something else, hm?”

Louis helps Harry up, and he wraps a sheet around his waist while trying to smile at his mom
continuing to talk to Olivia. He’s so sore he can barely walk, and he’s never been more gracious of
Louis’ solid presence next to him.

“I hurt,” Harry mumbles, gingerly stepping out of the room. One foot in front of the other, and then
one foot in front of the other again.

“I bet you do,” Louis replies. “Will you take Tylenol now?”

Vaguely, Harry thinks Louis’s trying to joke with him, but he says, “Yes.” Because he hurts.
They reach the bathroom, and still standing close enough to Harry to touch, Louis turns on the
shower and checks the water temperature. He then takes off his shirt.

“What?” Harry asks, looking at his bare chest. “You’re gonna come in there, too?”

“Yes,” Louis says, and he doesn’t have to put any Alpha twinge in it for Harry to realize it’s not a
suggestion; he’s coming in whether Harry wants him to or not.

So Harry drops the sheet to the floor, naked from the waist-down, and then carefully takes off his
loose shirt with assistance from Louis. He looks down and doesn’t recognize his body anymore.

He doesn’t need Louis to, but in the shower, Louis washes his hair and his body, even going so far
as getting on his knees to scrub his legs and inside his thighs. Blood rinses off and then travels
down towards the drain, turning the bottom of the bath pink, and Harry’s too tired to protest about
what Louis’s doing or even to feel strange about the way his body must look. Louis’s acting like
this is the most normal thing in the world.

When Harry’s clean, dried off, and redressed, sporting some absorbent underwear Jay had given
him underneath a pair of loose sweatpants, he and Louis both go back into the bedroom where
Harry immediately seeks out Olivia. He’s still exhausted and sore and a bunch of new emotions he
doesn’t know the name of yet, but the protection of his baby is definitely in the forefront of his
mind.

Looking around, he notices that everything in his bedroom is clean again. Someone, probably his
mom, had changed all the bedding, but the sheets from his nest are still there by the headboard.
Everything is dim, the room only lit by the lamp on Louis’ nightstand, and there’s now a light,
honey scent in the room on top of the deeper scent of Louis and Harry that’s otherwise saturating
it. A bassinet has been placed next to Harry’s side of the bed, and Olivia is lying in the middle of
it, eyes closed, resting. Harry’s feet take him directly to her. He’s about to pick her up when Louis’
mom taps him on the shoulder.

Harry looks at her, and she smiles. “Now, unless you ask first, I will never give you any advice on
how to raise this baby, but can I suggest one thing just this once?” she asks in a whisper.

Harry just nods.

“The greatest gift a baby will give to its parents directly after it’s first born is it will sleep. She’ll
sleep for a long time, actually. It’ll feel almost too long. After that, though, it’s literally a two-to-
three endless hour cycle of feeding, changing diapers, crying, and tiny, little naps. So. You might
wanna get some sleep now while you can. You don’t have to worry that you think she’s sleeping
too long. It’s what babies do after birth. It takes a lot out of them.”

Harry nods. He carefully gets in bed and rolls over on his side, so he’s practically face-to-face with
Olivia. “She really won’t be hungry at all?” he asks Jay. He can’t resist reaching out to touch the
blanket swaddling Olivia, just to check her breathing.

“Not right after being born. I bet you are, though.”

Blinking a few times, Harry realizes that yeah, he really, really is. Jay smiles at him. “Austin’s
already heating up leftovers for you. I’ll get them in a minute.”

Harry forms a fist and does a motion to his side with his arm while mouthing yesss. “Thanks so
much.”

There’s a moment between the two of them, and Harry can’t explain it. He thinks Jay understands
what he’s trying to say with his eyes, though--thank you for helping me bring my daughter into the
world, thanks for letting me trust you with something so precious and see me so vulnerable--and it
gets Harry misty-eyed yet again.

Seeming to get it, Jay just pats the bottom of Harry’s leg. “The next time she’ll wake up, she’ll
probably be ready to eat,” she says, going back to Harry’s original question.

“And if you need help with that,” Harry’s mother reminds him from the other side of the room,
“you can come get me.”

“I’m here, too, of course,” Louis tells him, now suddenly in bed beside him, too. “Don’t know how
much help I can be with that, but.” He shrugs. “Moral support.”

Weakly, Harry smiles as he rolls over on his back. “God, I feel so sore all over,” he groans.

“Let me get your Tylenol now,” Louis snaps his fingers and says, and then he’s off again.

When Louis leaves the bedroom, he runs face-first into a slew of his siblings, anxiously waiting
outside in the hall. After Louis makes some urgent noises for them to get out the way and not go
inside the bedroom yet, Jay walks into the hallway and starts talking to them. She then steps
outside and shuts the door to leave Harry alone with his mother.

Harry and his mom meet eyes and softly smile at one another. Anne walks to the edge of the bed
and sits down. “I can’t believe you’re a parent. I’m a grandma now.”

Harry just chuckles.

“So I’ll be staying the night here in one of the guest rooms, and Gemma and Robin will be here
some time tomorrow.”

“‘Kay.”

“You’re in for a busy few days, honey. Don’t feel like you have to accept all the guests, though,
okay? People are probably going to overwhelm you with wanting to see Olivia.”

Harry turns his head to the bassinet. “Who’d blame them?” he murmurs softly.

“Such a sweet baby girl,” Anne whispers, staring at her along with Harry. “You just need to worry
about yourself and her, though, alright? If you’re too tired to accept people over, just tell them
that.”

“I think I’ll be okay,” Harry yawns and replies. “I’ve got lots of help.”

“Yes,” she agrees. “You’re very lucky.”

Louis enters the room in the next instant with a big plate full of food, a bottle of water, and two big,
white pills. He approaches the bed, and Harry graciously swallows the medicine down before
digging into the food. It’s nothing special--just chicken tenders and mashed potatoes with some
vegetables on the side--but Harry almost moans as he eats it. It tastes so good.

“That was incredible,” Harry says once he’s done, and he collapses back into the nest of sheets and
pillows behind his neck and head, both hands on his still-swollen belly. “Oh, my God, that was so
good.”

Without being asked to, Anne takes Harry’s empty plate from the bed. Then she and Louis share a
look.

“Are y’all laughing at me?” Harry asks.

Louis grins. “You ate that in, like, five minutes. Impressive.”

“I went the entire day eating ice chips.” Harry sticks out his tongue. “I’m gonna try to sleep for a
bit now, I think,” he then tells Louis, feeling a little better after taking the Tylenol. “But I don’t
know if I can even really relax much, so will you make sure she’s okay? If she cries and I don’t
wake up or something?”

“Oh, you’ll hear her,” Harry’s mom chuckles as she starts to exit the room.

Louis climbs in bed next to Harry and very carefully cuddles with him. “Baby, that’s my job until
the day I die. I’ll literally make sure she’s okay always. Both of you.”

Harry dozes off feeling no different than earlier in the evening: sore and exhausted, but completely
supported and loved.

The first few days with Olivia pass by quickly. It’s almost strange because during the weeks when
Harry was actually pregnant, the days dragged on and on, the wait seeming heavy with how much
her arrival was anticipated. And now that Olivia’s here, time won’t slow down.

Louis doesn’t think anything can get better than his life right now. His daughter looks like Harry.
She’s an omega, she’s healthy, and she looks like Harry.

At first, Louis gets a few days off from work to stay home with Harry and the baby, but his
classwork can’t really stop for anything, not when he has so many assignments to do plus
productions at the campus theater to help out with. For the first time since probably ninth grade,
though, he skimps out on some work (purposefully not studying enough, or submitting papers to his
professors that he knows are under the assigned word-length, or just downright turning in shitty
work) in order to spend more time with Harry for Olivia’s crucial first newborn appointment, her
first real bath, her first three-dozen diaper blow-outs.

At this point, as a senior, as long as Louis’ work gets done at all, he doesn’t care. He’s already
configured the exact grades he’ll have to get this semester to still graduate, and even if he got
multiple failing grades for multiple courses, he’d still get his diploma. So sue him if he’s gotten
lazy. God knows he’s not the only one on campus who has; the rest of the student body won’t shut
up about Spring Break plans already. Louis’s right there with them, but the difference is that
instead of binge-drinking at the beach, he’s looking forward to an entire uninterrupted week with
his mate and daughter.

He’s got a fucking daughter. This entire being-a-father-thing has blown his mind since Olivia was
born, and it just has never stopped.

Spring Break isn’t for another month, though, so Louis continues to go to campus each day. Every
day he comes home in between his classes to jump in however he can, though. From day one, he’s
got it down, he thinks. He’s confident from the start. He can bathe a baby, he can change a baby’s
diaper, he can dress a baby, he can burp a baby. He’s done it all many times before. It’s just
somehow so much different when it’s his own. Precious, almost.

There’s other stuff Louis can do, too, like putting lotion on Olivia to help with all her peeling
newborn skin, combing her hair to prevent cradle cap, looking at her umbilical cord to make sure
it’s healing well. He knows how to do all of it. The only thing he can’t do is feed her, and that’s the
one thing that unfortunately turns out to be what Harry needs help with the most in the early days.

The fact that the nursery is adjoined to their bedroom is useful when getting up for diapers and
burp cloths and anything they may need relatively quickly, but Olivia doesn’t even sleep in there
yet. Instead, they keep her in an open bassinet next to Harry’s side of the bed, a tactical decision so
that when she wakes up hungry every few hours, Harry can easily pick her up and lead her to his
chest.

In the middle of the night, it becomes a cycle that Louis gets down--hear the cry, hear Harry stir, sit
up in bed with Harry while he nurses her just in case he’s needed in some way. It’s unreal how
much she eats. It’s just constant, it seems. And it’s unreal how such a small, pretty little thing can
get so loud, too, whenever she wants more, or when Harry has to pull her off to switch nipples.
Harry’s already joked it’s Louis’ fault.

It’s a joke until the real fatigue sets in. On the two-week mark after Olivia’s born, the impact of not
sleeping well seems to really hit Harry hard. He starts wearing pajamas just about all the time, and
Louis can see the never-ending tiredness on his face behind all the fondness he still adorns when
caring for Olivia. It’s another reason he gets up with Harry whenever Olivia cries for milk even
though Louis literally can’t do anything.

So, for the third night in a row, when Olivia starts crying at eleven at night, effectively waking up
Harry right as he’s started to doze off--again--that’s what Harry grumbles deeply to Louis: “Your
fault she’s so loud.” But it’s not really in a joking manner, more like he’s tired, and her cries hurt
his ears, and Louis can’t feed her.

Harry sits up and moves a bunch of pillows behind his back, robotically pulling up his shirt for
Olivia. He cradles her with his eyes closed, so tired he can barely stay awake. All Louis can do is
watch.

Olivia’s hair that was black when she was just born has somehow lightened daily to the point
where it’s almost a deep blond now, like Louis’ was as a baby. Louis wonders what other traits of
his Olivia might inherit. It makes him smile as he lays there in the dark room and watches her
continue to nurse from Harry, until Harry eventually senses he’s being stared at and opens his eyes.

“You’re staring at me.”

“Oh, I’m--” Louis closes his mouth. “What? I’m not being weird. It’s sweet.”

“Mph.”

“It is sweet,” Louis repeats quietly, reaching out to gently trail his fingertips along his daughter’s
scalp and then her face, lightly touching her as if committing every inch of her skin to memory. He
can hear sounds of her swallowing. “Man, she’s really goin’ to town. Does it hurt?”

Harry shakes his head. “M used to it,” he murmurs.

“She’s like a doll,” Louis whispers. “Like a little porcelain doll.”

Harry gently smiles. For a few moments, both of them just stare at her, just watch her little mouth
suckle at Harry’s chest. Harry then lifts his head up, and Louis leans in to kiss him.

“It’s all worth it, yeah?” Louis asks quietly. “All these sleepless nights.”

“Yeah,” Harry answers contentedly, and Louis kisses him again.

When Olivia’s full, though she wants to go right to sleep, Louis knows she needs to burp, so he
takes over that duty, then her next diaper change, too. He places her back in her bassinet, and that’s
where she is--still sleeping--when Louis gets up for class the next morning.

Blearily, Louis looks at his phone. It’s early, but Olivia still should’ve gotten up one more time, or
probably actually two more times, in the middle of the night. He must’ve slept through all of her
midnight feedings. It makes him feel pretty guilty.

After quietly showering, Louis gets dressed and places a warm kiss on Harry's sleeping forehead
and blows an air-kiss to Olivia before walking out the room. When he comes back home four hours
later, it’s a different scene entirely from the peaceful quiet that seven in the morning had left him
with; now, Olivia’s practically screaming, and Harry looks disheveled and panicked. He’s in the
middle of the bed with a burp-cloth on his shoulder, trying to get Olivia to rest her head down.
She’s not having it.

"C’mon, Livvie, c’mon,” Harry’s saying, burping Olivia a little too frantically, rocking his body
back and forth. “It’s okay, it’s okay.”

“Hey,” Louis says uselessly, rushing inside the room.

“She won’t stop crying,” Harry mumbles, but there’s a panic in his voice. “She just won’t go to
sleep. She barely slept last night, and she barely slept at all this morning, and she’s eaten and is
clean, but she won’t sleep, and she just won’t stop crying.”

Louis’ eyes dart between Olivia’s red face and Harry’s exhausted one.

“I’m just so tired,” Harry whispers, and his voice hitches before breaking. “And I’m not tr-trying
to--say it’s her fault--”

Instantly, Louis sits on the edge of the bed and holds out his arms. “Give her to me.”

“I love her so much, but I’m-I’m so tired--”

“Give her to me.”

Harry loosens his arms just a bit, and Louis carefully takes Olivia. She’s unsettled in his arms
immediately, and it’s a weird sort of cry she’s making, high pitched and wailing, almost like she’s
hyperventilating. Louis does everything he can to project his calm onto her through scent alone.

“You’re going to sleep,” Louis tells Harry over her screams.

“But if she’s hungry, then you’re not gonna be able to--”

“You said she just ate?”

“Yeah, she just ate, but she won’t--”

“If she just ate, she’s not hungry. Get some rest, Harry.”
Harry frowns and stares at Olivia again, dismay on his face watching her continue to cry.

“You’ve done everything you can do, baby,” Louis tells him. “Let me try now. Lay back and try to
sleep.”

“You have class to go back to,” Harry argues, but it’s meaningless. He’s already laying back in
bed, so Louis stands up, rocking his baby gently despite her urgent cries.

“I’ll skip it.”

“Louis.”

“Harry,” Louis counters, more firm. And Harry finally doesn’t talk back, readjusting his head on
his pillow instead. “Everyone has excused heat-days built in the semester,” he reminds Harry.
“You know this. I haven’t had to use any of mine all year. Obviously. It’ll be fine.”

“It’ll be excused, yeah, but you’ll still have to make up the work.”

“Don’t worry about it, baby, c’mon. I’ve got this. You can trust me as your Alpha, as your mate, to
handle our child. I’ve got this.”

Harry’s eyes--sunken in as they may be--darken a little as he looks up at Louis, and his scent shifts.

“Yeah?” Louis asks, grin now on his face. “That sexy to you?”

“So sexy,” Harry agrees, yawning.

“Aw, yeah, Daddy Lou’s still got it.”

Harry chuckles, and even in the shrill loudness of the room, Louis thinks the sound is musical. “I
think the sexiest thing you could say to me right now would be uninterrupted sleep."

“Mm. I’m gonna give you so much uninterrupted sleep,” Louis promises as he adjusts Olivia in his
arms to bend down to kiss Harry. “Gonna give it to you so good.”

After kissing Louis, Harry's mouth opens like a lion as he yawns. “Oh, baby.”

“Yeah. A whole hour. Maybe two, if you can fit it in.”

“Ohh, that’s the stuff.”

"Think you can fit it in?"

"Louis," Harry grumbles, "stop. I didn't really mean for you to take it and run with it."

"Sorry, sorry, just was tryin' to be funny. Love you, gonna go now."

Louis heads out the room. Olivia’s little face is wrinkled up and unhappy, so as he walks, Louis
starts moving his arms left then right, bouncing her gently.

“You’ve got a healthy pair of lungs on you, don’t you?” Louis murmurs, eventually finding his
way to the couch in the den that’s hardly used anymore. No one’s home right now, anyway, either
at school, daycare, or work. “Your Papa says it’s my fault you’re loud, but he’s the singer between
the two of us, so…”

Louis carefully moves Olivia so that she’s resting on her back on top of Louis’ legs, right in the
little crevice they make between his thighs. She continues to cry, her body tense. “You’re right,
you’re right, I’m an excellent singer, too, how could I have forgotten? Of course you got this set of
lungs from me.” At that, she cries louder. “Okay, okay, I hear you. You’re really not happy right
now, huh?”

Slowly, Louis takes one of Olivia’s legs, lifts it and bends it at the knee, and pushes it back towards
her stomach. He keeps it there for a moment before releasing it and doing the same thing with her
other leg. “Here’s this thing that my momma used to do with your aunts when they were little,”
Louis tells Olivia before muttering to himself, “That’s so strange to say. Aunts. My sisters are aunts
now.”

Again and again, Louis pushes Olivia’s knees into her stomach, sometimes both at once. He rubs
her stomach from time-to-time, too, but mainly sticks with the leg-trick. “It’s like you’re riding a
bike, see?” Louis asks. “Uppp and out, kick it out, hon. Just like that. Does that feel good?” he asks
while she keeps making little pathetic cries that come from deep in her throat.

Right when Louis’s about to give up, the grossest noise comes out from Olivia’s diaper, like a
freaking foghorn, and Louis’ face turns up in disgust when he realizes he’s been farted on. Heavily.

“Ughhhh, child,” Louis says, nose pointedly turned to the side. “Good lord, that was atrocious.”

With care, Louis lifts Olivia’s leg where he’s been holding it, and he slow-slow-slowly lowers his
face to take a whiff behind it. He then drops both of her legs. Louis doesn’t smell poop, and more
importantly, Olivia’s stopped crying.

“You’re a champ! Think we’re good now, Livvie,” he states, beaming at her. “That’s what
everyone’s calling you now, yeah?”

She squirms around in Louis’ lap, arms reaching out for nothing due to her startle reflex, but
Louis’d like to say she’s trying to tell him thank you. He finds an open palm of hers, closes it, and
places his fist to hers. “Boooom,” he makes a sound-effect with his mouth. “Happy days, honey.
As long as you didn’t leave me with a blowout diaper to change, we’re good.”

Olivia starts to kick her legs a bit to match the incessant movements of her arms. She’s so squirmy.
“Look how big you are,” Louis says to her. “You’ve grown so much. You gettin’ strong from all of
Papa’s yummy milk? Yeah, you are. You’re a little piggie, eatin’ all the time, aren’t you? That’s
what’s makin’ you all gassy.”

She still won’t stop moving her little arms around, like she’s mini-punching the air. “You gonna be
my little boxer? Hm? You gonna keep all the Alphas away?” Louis fondly smiles. It’s not often
he’s been able to see her so alert, her eyes just staring at him in wonder. “But shh. Don’t tell Papa I
said that. Papa’s all about love, not war. You love your Papa, don’t you?”

At that, Olivia makes a little fussy noise.

“You heard his name and now you gotta cry again?” Louis mock-whispers. “Aw, don’t be like
that. I’m cool, too, aren’t I?”

She settles.

“‘Course I’m cool. The coolest. You’re just overtired,” Louis tells her. “So you know what we’re
gonna do? We’re gonna take a walk around some rooms down here, then we’re gonna take a nap.
And we’re gonna let your Papa get his sleep, too.”

Louis gingerly moves Olivia’s head into the crook of his arm, and his other arm moves to hold her
securely before he stands up to begin walking around. He first makes his way into the nearby
living room.

“Look on TV. This is a TV. There’s a hockey game on right now, look. Hockey is what we watch
when football is over. It’s almost time for the playoffs. Maybe you shouldn’t know too much about
TVs right now, actually, but one day you’ll probably really, really like it. Hey, let’s look out the
window instead. There’s snow out there.”

Louis walks to the huge window that his mother always puts the Christmas tree in front of each
year. “You see that?” he asks Olivia. “You can’t see very far, I know, but look. That’s called
snow. It doesn’t snow much where we live, but sometimes it does. It’s almost the end of March,
and we just got, like, the first snow of the entire season. Crazy, right? Just a few inches that’ll be
gone by tomorrow, but still. It’s fun. One day we can go out and play in it. One day you’ll be able
to run around in it and build a snowman with me and Papa. And we can make snow angels and
build forts, and all types of things.”

Continuing his little tour, Louis walks through the foyer, and goes into the kitchen, and by the time
he’s back to the den, Olivia’s eyes are closed, and she’s sleeping. Feeling proud, Louis smiles.

There’s a baby swing in the den--just like in the living room, just like in the nursery--but instead of
setting Olivia in it, Louis just grabs a random baby blanket from the back of the couch and lays
down while still holding Olivia. He moves her so that her head rests on his chest, and then he
covers her with the blanket, puts his hands on her back, and takes a nap right there along with her.

Twenty and Twenty-Two, April

The nursery has easily become Harry’s favorite room in the house. Even though his bed is just a
few steps away, he likes the big chair in the nursery, and he spends almost all his time there,
holding Olivia, feeding her, taking pictures of her, singing to her. All the time he’d spent decorating
it and nesting in there really paid off because now his baby really gets to enjoy it, too.

“This is your crib,” Harry tells Olivia on a very good morning--no fussing, no problems, just a
sweet, lazy and chilly spring day. He places her down in the center of her mattress, and she stares
up at him. “You won’t sleep in here for a while, but this is yours. Do you like it? And you don’t
have to be scared ‘cause Papa and Daddy are right next to you, just like we always are.”

Olivia looks around left and right, her eyes big. Those are Louis’ eyes, and Harry grins at her
before reaching out for a stuffed animal in the corner and placing it somewhere she can easily see.
“Is that better? Something to look at? Do you like it? It’s a fox. Aunt Gemma got it for you."

Olivia makes a noise, and Harry beams. He loves all of her sounds--well, most of them--and all of
her faces. He’s been trying to get her to smile for a while now, and he thinks maybe she has, but it
could also be just the squirmy way she moves around lately.

“So hey,” Harry whispers, leaning in close. He runs his hand over the soft, fuzzy hair on her head
before bringing his fingers back down to touch her nose. “You’re--you’re like me. You don’t know
what that means, really, not yet. But. I promise to you...I promise that no matter how hard things
might be--wait, I shouldn’t start with something negative like that.” He sighs. “You can’t even
understand me, but still. I promise that you can do anything you want with your life. No matter
what, okay?” Olivia keeps looking at him, just blinking, and Harry smiles. “Well, like, as long as
it’s not hurting yourself or someone else or anything. But besides that, you can do anything you
want with your life. You’re important, and you’re loved. Don’t ever forget that.”

Right after what Harry considers is a sweet moment among him, his baby, and a cute fox stuffie,
Olivia scrunches up her face and poops, and it’s runny, and it’s gross, and it spreads out of her
diaper and onto her leggings and then onto the sheets of the crib. Harry sighs and picks her up,
immediately carrying her to the changing table next to the crib.

“That’s what I get for putting you down in there at all, huh,” he murmurs, carefully undressing her
and tossing her dirty clothes to the side. He’ll have to do a load of laundry later after stripping the
crib.

Harry's never really had experience changing diapers before, and it’s not something his childbirth
classes touched on, but it’s a natural thing to do. He’s got the technique down. Especially for dirty
diapers, which is the one thing that seems to repulse Louis the most. He’s good at just about
everything else, and, as usual, Harry’s grateful that Louis’s his.

After being changed into her second outfit of the day, Olivia’s hungry. Her belly being so small,
she eats constantly, it seems. When she’s full, she takes her first nap of the day, right there on
Harry’s chest, and instead of napping with her, Harry places her in her bassinet and starts doing
laundry and making lunch for Louis for when he comes home in between his classes. Then a few
hours later Olivia wakes up crying when she’s wet and hungry again, and the pattern goes on and
on like that throughout the rest of the day. By the time evening rolls around, Harry’s too exhausted
to even speak much to Louis.

“You’re sleepier than normal,” Louis comments. “You not nappin’ when Livvie naps?”

“I can’t always just drop what I’m doing and nap when she does,” Harry yawns and replies. “Not
that easy.”

But when he can, Harry does try to nap. He naps a lot, but still craves a full night of sleep, all at
once instead of chopped up--an hour here, an hour there. Still, it’s a nice little existence with Harry
and his baby in the first few weeks. A little lonely after all the hooplah when she was first born
fizzles out, no more daily visitors anymore, but still nice.

When Easter arrives, though, the house gets lively again due to Spring Break. Most of the time
during the day, Harry’s gotten used to everyone being away doing their own thing, leaving him
with long hours of bonding time with Olivia, but when Louis’ siblings get a break from school,
everyone stays home, and it’s loud and active and festive again. It gives Harry the chance to catch
up on some much-needed sleep because everyone wants to hold Olivia so much, and it also gives
Harry’s friends the chance to meet her for the first time when they fly into town from their
universities.

“I made sure to put on hand sanitizer,” Niall says as he enters the living room a few days after
Easter. Easter baskets are still lining the walls by the window there, fake strands of green grass
littering the carpet beside piles of chocolate bunnies and cellophane wrappers that need to be
thrown away. Behind Niall is Zayn; they’re an expected duo now. Niall’s still rubbing his hands,
spreading sanitizer everywhere as he walks in. “I swear I’m germ-free.”

Harry chuckles at Niall. “So does that mean you want to hold her?”

“Well, yeah,” Niall answers, sitting on the couch next to Harry. Not too close, but close enough to
peek at Olivia. She’s wrapped up in a blanket, sleeping. “This is insane. I can’t believe you had a
baby.”
Louis’s on the other side of Harry, and he greets Niall and then Zayn, watching as Zayn sits on the
very edge of the couch next to Niall. “‘Sup guys?”

“How’s parent life?” Zayn asks.

“Great,” Louis immediately says.

“I’m really, really tired,” Harry answers, “but it’s really, really worth it.”

As Harry gingerly places Olivia into Niall’s waiting arms, Louis sits stoicly beside Harry, and
Harry pats his leg until he relaxes some.

Niall and Zayn stare at Olivia for a long time, cooing to her even though she’s asleep. “I’m your
Uncle Niall. And here’s Uncle Zayn.”

“You can just call me Zayn,” Zayn tells her, and Harry rolls his eyes.

“She looks like an old man,” Niall chuckles. Harry hits his arm.

“She’s beautiful,” Zayn just whispers. “I think she looks like you, Louis.”

“You tryin’ to say I’m beautiful?” Louis asks.

“Shut up,” Zayn scoffs. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Aw, don’t front.”

“So is she an easy baby?” Niall asks Harry. “I don’t even know what that means, but you hear
about people saying some babies are easy, so.”

Harry smiles. “Yeah, it’s all good. She is pretty easy, doesn’t have colic or anything. It’s really just
been figuring out what she doesn’t like me eating ‘cause certain things, like, really seem to hurt her
stomach, but besides that, it’s been good. I’ve got a good routine goin’.”

“The first few months is just all about keepin ‘em alive,” Will says from the chair across the room.
He and Calvin had already met Olivia when she was just a few days old, but he’s here to see Niall
and Zayn. His stomach is barely noticeable from where he’s pregnant again, but his hands are on it,
anyway.

“Nice way to put it,” Zayn comments dryly.

“It’s true,” Will laughs. “They can barely see, like, a foot in front of them, and it’s all survival.
Making sure they’re fed and clean and stuff. Then it gets funner. They’ll smile, and then they’ll
laugh, and then they’ll play, and roll over…”

“So, how’s Timmy?” Zayn asks Will after that, and the conversation then turns more Will-based. It
then shifts a bit back to Louis, his classes and his and Harry’s plans to move soon, then it shifts to
Niall and Zayn and how they’re doing, what they’ve been up to.

“What’s that thing on your neck, anyway, Zayn?” Will asks from across the room. “Or am I seeing
things? Whatchu been up to up in New York, huh?”

Zayn touches the side of his neck. “Nothin’, man.”

After that, Niall gives the baby back to Harry. The motion seems to wake her up, which Niall
apologizes profusely for, but Harry just waves it off. “She’s been asleep for awhile. She’s gotta eat
soon. I’ll just--”

Harry gets up to motion to the direction of his bedroom. Niall’s the only Alpha in the room, but
Harry’s not about to just start breastfeeding in front of him. He frowns, a bit upset that he has to go
away for at least half an hour from his friends who won’t even be able to stay long.

Louis walks with Harry down the hall to their bedroom just as Olivia is starting to cry.

“I know we’ve talked about it before,” Louis seriously tells him, “but you know you don’t have to
keep nursing if it’s too hard. I get that it’s important to you, but...”

“It’s just a lot of work,” Harry says. “All I do is sit here while she eats,” he chuckles, “but it’s still
a lot. It takes a lot of time.”

After sitting in the chair in the nursery and situating Olivia to his chest, Harry stares at her for a bit
and then ahead at her dresser, zoning out. It’s not long before he hears a knock on the wall by the
nursery’s entrance. It’s Zayn.

“Hey, man,” he says. “You mind if I come in?”

Harry grins. “Yeah, I mean--if you’re okay with--” He looks down at himself.

“Yeah, man, of course.” Zayn steps inside and looks around. “This place looks sick.”

“Thanks.”

Zayn takes a seat on the little circle rug in the middle of the room, still looking around at
everything. As he does so, Harry sees what Will must’ve been referring to on his neck; it’s an
injury there, but the placement of it is what’s so questionable.

“Why were you bein’ weird about your neck before?” Harry asks quietly

“Oh, ‘cause I didn’t wanna talk about it in front of Niall,” Zayn waves off.

“Why not? What happened?”

“It’s just sort of a sensitive subject for him, so.”

“Did you…” Harry makes a sympathetic face. “Did you decide to mate with someone else?”

Zayn’s face twists up in revulsion. “Ugh, hell no. No, of course not. What kind of a question is
that? You know I don’t wanna be marked. Not at all.”

“I know,” Harry replies, “but I didn’t know if maybe you met someone and changed your mind or
something. I haven’t seen you in forever, so…”

“No, I get it. Just. Niall just got really upset that I did what I did.”

“...What’d you do?”

Zayn sighs. “A couple’a months ago I looked up this specialist who said they could take my gland
out, right, like I’ve always been wanting. So I did a little research on the woman, figured it was
cool. I saved up the money and everything, was just gonna do it all on my own and be done. But
when I got there…”

Harry’s eyes are huge. “Is everything okay, Zayn? It wasn’t--like--Did she hurt you?”
“No,” Zayn answers right away. “It wasn’t some black-market thing everyone keeps sayin’ just
‘cause it was in New York City. It was legit. But I just--I got weirded out. I had a consultation, then
went back for the actual surgery, and…” He sighs. “Did you know that they don’t even put you
under for that shit? For gland removal? They gave me like a shot in my neck to make it numb, and
then they were just gonna, like, start cutting. I could see the scalpel and everything.”

“So you freaked.”

“I totally freaked.” Zayn stares ahead at Harry for a bit, clearly watching Olivia nurse without
trying to be obvious about it. He sighs and looks back at Harry’s face. “So here I am again, back to
my regular methods of operation, just stupid old Zayn, never knowing what the fuck he wants.”

“Maybe if you asked that they actually put you under strong anesthesia for it, you could get it done
that way while you were asleep? Is it the actual surgery and blood part that’s freaking you out?”

“Yes and no. It’s--Yes, I hate blood, but it’s more that this is permanent. It’s not like I can just save
my gland in a jar and put it back in if I change my mind. Even with all my tattoos now--I mean, if I
really wanted to, I could have them removed. This is different. You know how fucking much I
change my mind.”

“Look, Z, you know I’ve always supported you no matter what. That won’t change. My main thing
is--” He looks down at Olivia. This is his baby, his daughter. An omega. “You see her? She’s an
omega like me.” Harry tries to keep from crying, but he can’t help it; he immediately does. “And it
would b-break my heart if she grew up hating herself for that. S-so that’s all I want for you is to--to
just be happy and not hate yourself for who you are.”

Zayn instantly gets up off the floor and gives Harry a side-hug. “Thanks, man. I--Thanks.”

Harry wipes his eyes before poor Olivia starts catching onto his sensitivity and begins crying
herself.

“It’s all good,” Zayn mumbles, remaining on the arm of the chair Harry’s on. “I’ll figure
something out, whatever it is. I’m thinkin’ of just doin’ hormones or something, something to
make my heats stop for now before doin’ something so permanent like gland-removal.”

“That’s a good idea,” Harry agrees. “Does Niall not like that or something?”

“Oh, no, he’s all for it. He doesn’t like that I was about to have this huge surgery without even
telling him about it. That’s...I mean, I almost went through with it. I have this scar and everything
because they cut a little bit into me before I told them to stop. It’s gonna always be there. Which is
fine to him, except...I think Niall just wants me to stop acting like I have to do things alone.”

“We all do, Zayn,” Harry mumbles, and Zayn laughs.

“Yeah, yeah,” he answers, running his hand through his hair. He’s got it buzzed on one side
entirely, but the other side is short, and in the middle is super long. He has it combed off to the
side. “I’m gettin’ there, man. Thanks for bein’ patient with me. I don’t have my life figured out like
you, but I’m gettin’ there.”

“I don’t have anything figured out, really,” Harry replies, chuckling. “Life just...keeps happening.
And I just...adjust.”

He and Zayn look to one another and smile.

Twenty and Twenty-Two, May

Louis doesn’t know how it’s possible--like, physically, emotionally, whatever, just absolutely
doesn’t know how it’s possible--but he falls more in love with Harry watching him with Olivia. As
she gets older, it’s fun to note all her little milestones. Her first smile, when she lifts her head for
the first time. All the little stuff like that. Watching Harry be a good Papa to her through it all--it’s
just. It’s a lot.

And the day has finally come for Louis, his graduation day. After one of the most grueling months
ever full of more all-nighters than he’s ever pulled before--both due to Olivia and to all the finals
he’s had to cram for--the day is here for him to graduate. He’s dressed up in khakis and a nice shirt
on the morning of the ceremony, and all the members of his family are buzzing around in various
rooms downstairs, getting ready themselves.

Harry’s dressed beautifully, too, sitting on the couch while holding Olivia. She’s in a dress, and
Harry’s dressed similarly to Louis, except maybe a bit more fancy. Beside them both is Lottie, and
she’s trying to play peek-a-boo with Olivia.

“My niece is the cutest,” she beams down at her, doing the same baby-voice she’s always used for
all their other siblings when they were infants. “Yes, you are.”

“I’ve gotta head out in a bit. How you feelin’?” Louis asks Harry gently, bending down to kiss his
forehead and then tickle Olivia’s chin.

“My back’s a little sore. But besides that, all good.”

Louis just stands back up and robotically walks into the kitchen. He goes through some cabinets in
there and comes back to Harry with a bottle of water and a few pills for him to take. From the side
of the room, James beams at Louis as Harry takes the medicine from him, and Louis looks at him
suspiciously before walking back into the kitchen to tell his mother that he’s going to have to leave
soon.

“He didn’t even ask,” James follows Louis and says. “He just said he’s sore, and you went up and
got Tylenol.”

“Well...yeah.” Louis stops walking to look curiously at his uncle. “That’s..the logical thing to do.
You making fun of me or something?”

“No, it just reminds me of--” James shakes his head. “It’s good. It’s a good thing. Jacob and I were
just talking yesterday--He woke up in the middle of the night complaining that he was too hot, and
I got out of bed to turn on the light switch for the fan. It’s like we’re trained or something.”

Louis quirks his mouth up. “You hear that, Haz?” he calls out. “You got me trained!”

“Good!” Harry calls back.

The day turns out to be so rainy that Louis’s commencement is moved indoors at the university’s
basketball coliseum. With all the traditional speeches, it’s a dreadfully boring and long event, and
Louis has to impatiently wait for dozens and dozens of people to be called before it’s his turn to
walk across the stage, but when he does, when he hears his name being said into the microphone,
it’s like...It’s one of the proudest things he’s ever achieved in his life, and he collects his diploma
and does some stupid whooping-motion with his arm right there in front of thousands of people,
relief and pride bursting out of his body.
He thinks of all the teachers who used to talk shit about him just because he never was interested in
world capitals or some shit. Thinks about the others in his high school who used to talk shit, too,
‘cause Louis smoked too much pot back then and ran a little too much with the theater crowd.
Thinks about every.single.time someone doubted him. Because now he’s proved them wrong.
Because when it comes to what he actually wants to do--his actual interests, his actual goals of
providing for his family and making a name for himself--he’s a fucking winner. He’s got a diploma
in his hand now to prove it. Two degrees. A fucking major in business with a minor in performing
arts. Besides his mating ceremony day, or when Olivia was born, he doesn’t think he’s smiled this
big in years.

He throws his cap in the air as high as he can when the last speech of the afternoon is finally made,
and he almost leaves it right there on the ground when he’s free to go, too full of adrenaline to find
his family.

In the tight crowds staying indoors to avoid the rain, it takes forever to find everyone, but it’s
Olivia who Louis actually scents out first after long moments of weaving in and out of people.
She’s wearing little baby headphones and is cradled in Harry’s arms fast asleep.

The entire afternoon is full of pictures and laughter. Louis just feels so happy to be done with this
step. This huge four-year-long step. Now it’s on to his actual job, and an actual house for his
family, and--all of it.

Tons of Louis’ extended family have come into town for this occasion, and they all go out to eat
together to celebrate with Louis. Louis gets to open up presents and cards for himself, and next to
him, Harry gets to open presents and cards for Olivia. It’s nice. It’s the first time they’ve actually
taken Olivia out into public besides for her doctor’s visits, and she sleeps in her carseat through the
entire commotion. It’s unbelievable.

Back at home, the atmosphere is still joyful. Louis’ extended family are staying in hotels, mostly,
but a few cousins are staying the night with them. Everyone hangs out on the back porch catching
up until someone nudges Louis and says, “Hey. You’ve got a billion babysitters tonight, you know.
Why don’t you and Harry go out for a few hours or something?”

Louis and Harry look to one another. “I don’t know,” Harry shrugs and hedges.

“Just for a little bit?” Louis asks. “An hour and a half or something?”

“But if she gets hungry…”

Louis lowers his voice. “I thought you said you’d been trying to pump?”

“Yeah, I have,” Harry answers, “and I’ve got some in the freezer for her, but it’s really, like, just
for emergencies.”

Louis stands up and finds his uncle Jacob. They go into the kitchen together with Harry.

“Oh, yeah,” Jacob says, opening the freezer and seeing the little containers Harry’s been stacking
in there. “You’re good to be gone all night with this supply, if you want.”

So that’s how Louis takes Harry out on their first date-night since he was pregnant, to his favorite
neighborhood restaurant. Harry says he’d only picked it because it’s just a few minutes away, but
Louis knows his secret obsession with Applebee’s. He’s a bit jittery the entire time, not used to
being gone from Olivia, and truthfully, neither is Louis, but they try to just enjoy their quiet time
together while eating. When they get home again, Louis can feel how anxious Harry is to get to
Olivia again.

“How was she?” Louis asks as Harry bends over to watch her sleeping in her electronic swing.

“Perfect,” Jacob answers at the same time James says, “Don’t really know. We all got so drunk we
don’t remember.”

“Ha fucking ha,” Louis says.

James smirks and holds out his phone. “Here. Got you the obligatory photos.”

Louis and Harry scroll through the photos James took, mostly of Olivia on a blanket on her
stomach. “So stinking cute.”

The first thing Harry does is go into the bedroom to pump since being gone from Olivia without
giving her a regular feeding has left him all full. When he’s done, since Olivia’s now sleeping in
her crib (a relatively new thing they’ve been trying out now and then), Louis climbs into bed with
Harry and looks at him suggestively. It’s been two months since they’ve mated. They make out a
little here and there, but Harry’s really just given Louis blanket-permission to take care of what he
needs to take care of alone because he’s just been too tired to do anything himself. Louis typically
doesn’t have a problem with that--like, he’s jerked off his entire life, really, and it’s fine--but he’d
really like to make Harry feel good, too, especially after so much time has passed and they’re
medically allowed to mate again. Tonight feels like it might be a good time for it.

Louis kisses Harry under the covers, and Harry kisses him right back, but he’s tense.

“She won’t be able to see or hear, baby,” Louis tells him, trying to snuggle up and kiss Harry’s
neck, but he can already sense the reluctance from Harry’s scent loud and clear. He backs away.

“I’m sorry,” Harry says quietly, not looking at Louis at all.

Louis fixes Harry’s hair, something he always does when they’re laying in bed like this. “You sure
I can’t do anything for you?”

“I’m good.”

“Just not feelin’ it tonight, huh?”

“Sorry,” Harry apologizes again.

“Babe, it’s fine.”

After some time of them just resting, Louis feels Harry’s fingertips sneak down his shirt. His hand
doesn’t go far enough to his underwear, instead changing directions to find his hip and rest on it.
Louis finds Harry’s hand, holds it in his own, gives it a kiss, and places it back down on the
mattress.

“You graduated today,” Harry whispers. “I don’t mean to, like…”

“We can celebrate another time, yeah?” Louis asks, yawning. And they go to sleep, at least for a
few hours.

Twenty and Twenty-Two, June

Just a week after he graduates, Louis’s already started working more at the Grand Theater in the
city, but on a day when he’s off, Harry and Louis buy a room-separator for the nursery.

Louis vetoes Harry’s first-choice of a bead-curtain to go for something more cloth-like instead, and
Louis hangs it up right after coming home from the store.

The day passes like a typical day for Harry does--nursing, tummy-time, story time, nap time, diaper
time, all on repeat--but with Louis home, it’s nice. It’s easier. That night, after giving Olivia her
bath and rubbing her down with lotion and combing her hair and getting her dressed, Harry keeps
his anticipation at a low, excited level--happy to get to mate with Louis again, but not expecting it if
Louis either doesn’t want it himself for some reason, or if (more likely), Olivia chooses to interrupt
them.

It’s in the air when Olivia’s safely sleeping in her crib. The baby monitor is on the nightstand, but
besides that, the lights are all off, and the room is quiet and dark and electrically-charged. Harry’s
not dressed up or anything, but Louis can still read him well, like always.

He knows that Harry likes to kiss for a long while, so that’s what Louis does once they’re both
comfortably under the blanket, really slowly at first, just tangled up together all soft. Harry keeps
his shirt on, and Louis doesn’t question it; he’s avoided touching Harry’s stomach as much as he
used to, getting the hint pretty early on that Harry’s not down with that yet. Besides that, Louis
brushes his fingers along all of Harry’s exposed skin he can. When he goes under Harry’s shirt
though, Harry inhales.

“Louis,” he gasps. “Don’t. Don’t do that.”

“Why not?” Louis asks lazily. “Feels good, yeah?”

“I’ll leak,” Harry answers, but Louis’s still trailing his fingers along Harry’s nipple.

“Louis, don’t,” Harry says again. Louis lowers his hand again.

Louis kisses the fabric of Harry’s shirt all the way down to the top of his underwear. He’s being
delicate. Harry sits up on his elbows to watch as Louis puts his fingers under the elastic and pulls
them down. It’s mesmerizing how Louis can make him feel like this, like he’s fuming inside.

Louis picks up his leg and slowly kisses Harry’s ankle.

Harry’s breathing is shaky. “I’m not sure I remember it ever feeling this good.”

“Already?”

“Been a while.”

“Get on your stomach, okay?”

Harry shakes his head. After spending months not being able to have missionary-style sex, or any
at all, that’s what Harry wants.

“Don’t want anything to hurt you,” Louis murmurs as he slots a leg in between both of Harry’s and
leans back down. He kisses Harry’s jaw, his neck, and Harry turns his head to allow it, sighing. He
gently ruts up against Louis’ thigh. The naked skin on naked skin feels nice.

“You won’t. I wanna look at you,” Harry whispers, widening his legs. “Want our stomachs to
touch.”
Louis lets out a puff of air through his nose in amusement. He shifts.

After Louis reaches behind him to bunch up his shirt and remove it, he kicks off his boxers. Harry
keeps his eyes on Louis’ face the entire time. After resituating himself in between Harry’s legs and
sliding a pillow under Harry’s ass, Louis looks down at himself, one hand guiding his cock to
Harry’s heat and one hand keeping Harry’s legs open. His face is serious in concentration, and
when he pushes in, he closes his eyes for just a moment. When he opens them again, he stares at
Harry.

“Louis,” Harry murmurs, blinking up at him.

He feels like Louis’s taking extra care with him, and it’s different. Even while pregnant, Louis
wasn’t this gentle. As Louis slides inside, he sucks in a breath, blows it out slowly, and starts to
sweep his hands up and down the hard planes of Louis’ back when Louis leans forward.

Louis bottoms out. “Good?”

Harry closes his eyes and nods. He’d be lying if he said it didn’t hurt some, but he’s wet enough,
and it is good. It is.

It’s slow enough that the build-up to climax takes time, but it gives them extra minutes of making
out, only breaking their lips to gasp from time to time. Harry’s little whimpering moans build in
swiftness but still remain hushed as Louis grinds in deeply, teasing out his orgasm.

One of Louis’ hands presses to the top of Harry’s ass, thumb drifting down to pull his cheek aside,
and the other wraps tight around Harry’s thigh, pulling back each time he slowly fucks in. So
slowly. He paces himself with long strokes, a rhythm that leaves Harry shivering every time Louis
pulls back out. Harry wetly mouths his own bicep, head turned into his arm as he gasps with it.

“Want you to come now, okay? Can you?”

Harry swallows audibly and nods.

“Do it for me, okay?” Louis asks. Harry nods again. They’re being so quiet.

Harry’s legs are being held by Louis, but after he wraps them around Louis’ waist, he moves his
hand down to his dick. All he has to do is just hold the tip and then he’s coming, quiet and quivery,
his face a contorted mess.

“I won’t knot inside,” Louis rushes out into Harry’s ear, finally moving faster into Harry’s body.

He tucks his face into the crook of Harry’s neck and gasps, and Harry gasps, too, trying to use the
heels of his feet to push on his ass to get him further in, but Louis won’t breach him any more.

“I’m gonna knot,” Louis gasps. “I’m gonna knot.”

Harry feels warmth flood inside him, but Louis’s knot stays out; pressed against Harry’s rim, the
bulging hardness of it is still pleasant. When it’s over, Louis’s shivering, and he collapses onto
Harry’s chest. Harry wraps his arms around him and brushes his fingers through his messy hair,
making it stick up in all directions.

“Oh, my God,” Louis whispers, squeezing his eyes shut. He opens them quickly. “Are you okay?”

Harry nods, sighing contentedly. A few seconds later, they both start giggling, and they can’t stop.
They both get cleaned up and dressed again before spooning. Louis’s drawing absent-minded
shapes on Harry’s back when Harry dozes off.

Instead of Olivia’s crying, Harry’s chest is what wakes him up a few hours later, tingling and achy
in a way Harry’s come to realize means Olivia needs to eat now, but when he blindly slides off his
bed and walks into the nursery, he spots Louis standing up beside Olivia’s crib, holding her while
looking down at her face. Instantly, he relaxes. She’s awake, and they’re having some sort of silent
communication between the two of them.

When he senses Harry, Louis looks up and smiles. “She woke up but wasn’t crying,” he explains.
“Wanted you to get some more sleep.”

“Thanks.” Harry walks into the room and collapses on the chair by the crib. “But you’re gonna be
so exhausted tomorrow. You got work all day long now.”

“Eh. I’m used to all-nighters by now. Besides, this is all part of the job.”

The second Olivia hears Harry’s voice, she fusses. “Here we go,” Harry mumbles, chuckling as he
lifts his shirt to expose his nipple. Louis moves to place Olivia into Harry’s arms and then grabs
the little nursing pillow from the floor for him to wrap around his waist.

“Hears her Papa and is like, milk, milk, milk,” Louis jokes.

“That’s all I’m good for,” Harry jokes right back, but Louis’ face falls. “Don’t,” Harry tells him.
“Was just kidding.”

Louis sits on the arm of the chair and pushes Harry’s hair back from his face.

“She’s already grown so much,” Harry mumbles sleepily, watching Olivia suckle. “I can’t believe
it.”

“Yeah, it’s crazy,” Louis agrees.

“It needs to stop.”

Louis chuckles. “She’s almost three months old. She’s gonna be eatin’ actual baby food soon.”

“Nooo.”

“And rolling over when we do tummy-time with her.”

“Noooo.”

“And then crawling. Gettin’ into everything.”

“Ugh, noooo,” Harry laments even more.

Louis sits on the arm of the chair and bends down closer to Harry’s ear. “Sleeping through the
night.”

Harry’s eyes bolt open. “Now you’re talkin’.”

Louis points at Harry’s face and laughs. “Gotchu with that one, yeah? Now you can’t wait.”

“I don’t know,” Harry mumbles, eyes slipping closed, smirk on his face. “If I could just get, like,
five hours straight right now, that’d be unreal.”
“Start using your pump thing more often. Seriously. I’ll warm up the milk when she wakes up
hungry and take over the middle of the night feeding with the bottle. I’ll be up still, anyway,
lookin’ at blueprints for houses and shi--stuff.”

“What if she doesn’t like bottles?” Harry asks, already worrying. “Jacob said that one time after
your graduation she really wasn’t too happy with it. What if she--and what if doing that messes up
my supply or something?”

Naturally, Louis comes up with a solution immediately. “Well, I’ll call that lactation specialist at
Mom’s work, then. See what he suggests. You need your sleep, babe.”

“I sleep,” Harry counters, yawning. He moves Olivia to the other side of his chest.

“Barely,” Louis corrects.

Harry makes some noise. “Runnin’ on coffee and omega superpowers,” he deadpans. “Anyway,
speak for yourself.”

“But Harry,” Louis starts, “don’t, like, martyr yourself to doing this all by yourself even when it’s
too difficult just because I’ve got a full-time job and you feel guilty that I’ll be tired during the day
or something.”

“I’m not.”

Louis’s silent for long enough that Harry opens his eyes to look at him.

“I get that you feel that complaining about being tired means that you’re complaining about having
Olivia at all--”

“‘Cause that’s what it sounds like--”

“It’s natural that you’re tired. You do a fuck-ton of stuff. I mean, a bunch of stuff. You have the
right to be tired, okay?”

“But--Louis. I could make a list of all the stuff you do on a daily basis, and then another list of
everything you’re planning to do but haven’t done yet, and it’d give me a headache just writing it.
If you wanna add midnight and two-in-the-morning feedings to that list, you’re--”

“Fuck yes, I do,” Louis immediately says, then makes a face. “I mean, heck yes, I do. I’ve wanted
this for literally so long, baby. This right here--” Louis gestures around the room, and then to Harry
and Olivia and back to himself-- “This is the good stuff. We make a damn cute family, yeah?”

Harry smiles. “You know we do.”

“I’m not gonna be that Alpha who makes you do all the shit at home all the time just because I’m
out all day at work. Hell, this stuff is harder. I don’t wanna be like that. I won’t. Expecting dinner
on the table at five p.m., all that stupid traditional crap.”

“Good. ‘Cause it’ll be at least six-thirty, maybe seven,” Harry replies, yawning again. “Five’s way
too early.”

Louis’ face breaks out into a grin, grabbing a burp-cloth from the back of the chair and tossing it
over his shoulder. When Olivia’s done nursing, he carefully bends down to lift her up, then he
places her by his shoulder and starts patting her back.
Chapter End Notes

Still got two one shots written...the goal is to post those maybe this month or next?
Just stay posted. Thanks to everyone for reading and commenting! I really appreciate
all the support!!

Please drop by the archive and comment to let the author know if you enjoyed their work!