hold on strong (and don't let go)

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/38725446.

Rating: Explicit
Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Category: M/M
Fandom: One Direction (Band)
Relationship: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Character: Louis Tomlinson, Harry Styles, Liam Payne, Nick Grimshaw, Zayn Malik
Additional Tags: Trigger Warnings, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, ABO dynamics, but don't
read for that i don't know what I'm doing, Alpha Harry Styles, Omega
Louis Tomlinson, Slow Burn, Scenting, Nesting, Fluff and Smut, Literally
so much angst, Anxiety, Brief mentions of panic attacks, Miscarriage,
Additional Warnings In Author's Note
Language: English
Stats: Published: 2022-05-01 Words: 27,023 Chapters: 2/2

hold on strong (and don't let go)

by reliablyimperfect

Summary

For the longest time, the only adjective Louis could use to describe how he felt was numb.
Where there was once an overwhelming amount of love and hope and light, that was
quickly replaced with heartbreaking nothingness. The weight of nothing pressed outward
desperately from Louis’s chest as if trying to mimic the feeling of fullness, but it wasn’t the
same.
Louis is familiar with the stages of grief, and while he knows they don’t necessarily happen
in the exact order, one after another, like it’s portrayed in the media, there was no way to
truly understand grief without experiencing it yourself. True grief is debilitating. It’s ugly,
it's raw, and it can absolutely devastate a person. It’s something Louis wouldn’t wish on his
greatest enemy.
OR Harry and Louis, after the loss of their first baby, find out they’re pregnant again ft.
super (but understandably so) protective harry, a sweet, soft louis, and the anxiety-laced
eagerness for a baby they thought they would have three years ago.

Notes

An EXTRA special shoutout to kenny for being the best and most supportive beta ever. She
did a great job of fixing my errors, so thanks so much for kenny! <3
When I started this, the flashbacks were little drabbles in my head, but they took on a life of
their own, so I made them into an entirely separate chapter.
In this fic, italics indicate flashbacks.
Spoiler Alerts Ahead:
TRIGGER WARNING
This is a fic about a miscarriage. A lot of research went into this fic so it can be as tasteful
as possible, but that means that this is a heavy fic. Please read with discretion, and only if
your mental and physical health will not be affected. Keep yourself safe, guys.
Be well. Be kind.
 try walking through the door of an empty house

You know that feeling when you’re expecting reassurance? Like when you message your best
friend to see if they made it home safely, or when you tell someone you love them just so you can
hear them say it back. It’s that feeling of expecting a visitor and seeing the headlight flash through
the window as they finally pull into the driveway.

It’s the feeling of being on the top of a rollercoaster. One second, everything is fine; you’re looking
around, enjoying the view. The sun’s in your face and the wind is rustling your hair. Then, the
rollercoaster tips just far enough over the crest, and then you’re hurtling towards the ground at
breathtaking speeds.

It’s like when you finally see your friend’s name pop up on your screen, except when you pick it
up, it’s someone else’s voice. It’s like an infinite pause after your, “I love you” instead of an “I love
you, too.” It’s like walking out the door to greet your friend, only it’s a police car.

***

For a long time, the only adjective Louis can use to describe how he feels is numb . Where there
was once an overwhelming amount of love and hope and light, it’s been replaced with a
heartbreaking nothingness. The weight of nothing presses outward desperately from Louis’s chest
as if trying to mimic the feeling of fullness. But it isn’t the same.

Louis is familiar with the stages of grief, and while he knows they don’t necessarily happen in the
exact order, one after another, like it’s portrayed in the media, there is no way to truly understand
grief without experiencing it yourself. True grief is debilitating. It’s ugly, it's raw, and it can
absolutely devastate a person. It’s something Louis wouldn’t wish on his greatest enemy.

October 2018

He’s well aware of the fact that, when pregnant, the baby often rests on the mom’s bladder,
leaving them in a near-constant state of gotta pee, need to pee.

“It’s completely normal,” All the expecting (or seasoned) mothers in Louis’s group chat tell him
when he complains about having peed six times already that day, and it’s barely noon. “All the
time spent peeing will be worth it when you get to hold your little one in your arms.”

He’s in the living room with Harry one afternoon during the first trimester, warm and content with
his mate next to him. They’re watching a movie that Louis isn’t paying attention to, focused more
on the feeling of Harry’s steady heartbeat that he can feel thanks to his position against his chest.

Louis scrunches his nose at the dampness in his pants when he shifts. With red cheeks, he excuses
himself from a movie with Harry, fleeing down the hall towards the bathroom. Halfway there, he
gasps when a strong cramp hits him, and his steps falter as he clutches at his lower abdomen.

“Lou?” Harry’s voice startles him, and he turns to face his husband. “You okay? You look a bit
pale.”
“Fine,” Louis grits between the discomfort and the embarrassment of having just peed his pants.
He’s barely into his third month, is it normal for his bladder to be this weak this early? He’ll have
to pose the question in the group chat once he’s done in the loo.

“C’mon, love, you’re not fine. What’s happening?” Harry says from behind him. A gentle hand
that starts at the base of his spine and tickles its way up to thumb at his tense shoulders announces
his proximity. Louis whines instead of answering, turning his head into Harry’s neck to scent him
softly. The alpha’s strong, calming scent of oak and lavender eases Louis a bit, but he’s still
blushing when he admits what happened. “Oh, Lou. C’mon. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

In the bathroom, Louis stands awkwardly as Harry moves around just outside the door in their
bedroom, gathering a new pair of shorts and pants for him. However, when Louis peels the damp
shorts from his body, he freezes, body going cold.

It’s blood. There’s blood in his pants. He didn’t accidentally pee, there’s blood in his pants. He
stands there for several long seconds, completely alone in his own private hell. Then, Harry comes
back in. He’s speaking, but Louis is drowning. His voice is muffled like he’s slipping under, and
Louis isn’t even trying to tread water. He knows the second Harry notices the blood because the
clothes drop from his hands, and it feels like the whole world stops spinning.

The next second, the world starts turning again, and Harry jumps into action. Carefully, ever so
carefully, Harry eases the bloody clothing from Louis’s legs and goes through the motions of
wiping him down as best he can with Louis remaining passive, completely unresponsive. With the
new clothes on, Harry bundles him into the car to take him to the hospital, but all they do is
confirm Louis’s worst fears. He lost their baby.

One minute he’s overjoyed, imagining the future. He can practically see the house, unkempt as it
can get with their day-to-day life, with toys scattered everywhere. Harry is kneeling on the carpet
with their child, making goofy faces to make them laugh as Louis studies a new script or cooks
dinner for them. A loud, happy squeal catches his attention, and he looks up with a small smile on
his face, but Harry is alone. Louis, frozen with terror, watches as the walls of the house literally
crumble around him. Picture frames splinter as they crash to the floor, and brick-by-brick the
walls are torn away, flying around as if caught in a hurricane. The future that Louis had hoped
and longed for his entire life is gone, washed away by one simple word.

Miscarriage .

Denial.

Louis hardly remembers the trip to the hospital. He can barely remember the faces of the doctors
that confirm the diagnosis Louis already knew, but he can practically feel the absence in his gut.

The next thing he registers is the familiar bump of uneven pavement at the end of their driveway
that Harry always says he’s going to fix. It jars Louis out of the blissfully numb headspace he’d
backed into during the silence of the car ride. He looks up at the house they were supposed to raise
their baby in, and he wants to cry, but he can’t .

As much as he tries and expects to cry, no tears come. The car lurches a bit as Harry shifts into
park, and they both climb out, still lost within their own minds. Harry goes through the motions of
unlocking the front door and letting Louis step through before he follows. When Harry pauses in
the hall, unmoving, Louis walks past him, in desperate need of a nap.
Just like Harry though, who froze just inside the door of the house, Louis finds himself stuck a step
past the doorframe of their bedroom, fixated on something he’d completely forgotten about.

On the bed, is their nest. The nest they both spent hours working on over the last week, sorting
articles of clothing based on scent and texture into their rightful place. The nest that Louis was
supposed to feel his baby kick in for the first time. The nest that Louis should’ve been able to settle
into after a long day and doze to the sound of Harry’s deep voice telling their baby all about his
day.

The wave of grief he’d been expecting bowls him over with the force of a tsunami, and all Louis
can do is sink to his knees. He isn’t aware of time passing. For all he knows, it could be ten
minutes or ten hours before Harry eventually gets worried and comes looking for him. When his
husband walks into the room, he sees the nest and also has to pause to get the sharp flash of agony
under control. Then, his eyes focus on Louis.

The omega is curled in a ball around one of their pillows, sobbing uncontrollably. He’s speaking
incomprehensible words that sound like a mix of a prayer and a plea. The alpha, anxious for his
mate, shifts restlessly next to the bed, placing a soft hand on Louis’s back. The touch only sends
Louis further into a panic, and Harry retracts his hand quickly. His mate trembles against the
pillow, sniffling and gasping as his tears soak the fabric. Harry rocks forward, reaching out for
Louis instinctually before he retracts his hand with a whine.

“Lou, please,” Harry begs softly. “Please, can I come into the nest with you? I need to- …please,
Lou. I just want to hold you. Please, can I?”

At the first sign of a nod, Harry pulls the pillow from Louis’s arms and folds himself down into the
nest with his mate. After a moment, he feels Louis’s tense, trembling body relax the slightest bit,
and Harry coaxes his nose into the scent gland on his neck. He tries to exude calmness, but he
knows that the sorrow and grief he feels is coming through despite his best efforts. Louis doesn’t
seem to notice; he hardly reacts other than a brief, sharp sob that surprises both of them when
Harry begins to rub circles into his shoulders.

As Louis clings to Harry, the alpha fists the fabric of Louis’s t-shirt between his hands. Waves of
misery flood from Louis. Instead of uselessly trying to console his mate, Harry allows the
devastation to encompass him. Despite the lump in his throat, he finds that he breathes easier
knowing he isn’t alone.

Depression.

With the first positive pregnancy test, their life changes. It’s no longer HarryandLouis. It’s Harry
and Louis and their baby . Their families - moms and sisters - are the first to know despite Louis
being only eight weeks along. The expecting pair are too excited by the idea of starting a family
together to keep it quiet, much to the amusement of their mothers.

Purely so they are able to see the reactions, Louis and Harry request a Skype session with
everyone. Even Gemma, who is up to her ears in work, and Lottie, who’s nearing the fourth month
of her own pregnancy, join in on their conference call. Once everyone is present, they hardly waste
a moment, pulling out the test and holding it calmly in front of Louis’s still-flat belly.

Slowly, family members begin to notice, and the new parents laugh and cry along with their
mothers and siblings as they sob and squeal with joy for the happy couple. The call lasts nearly an
hour despite the quick revelation, Lottie warning Louis of a few early-pregnancy things to be on
the lookout for, such as the need to pee every five minutes and the emotions. As if jinxed, Louis
promptly bursts into happy tears, overwhelmed by the love and support from their families.

In the hospital after the miscarriage, grief and depression were discussed. Louis didn’t hear the
warning over the sound of rushing water in his ears that was nearly constant those first few days:
grief is strongest just after a miscarriage. It’s largely because of the sudden drop in human
chorionic gonadotropin, or hCG, which is the hormone produced during pregnancy.

The abrupt one-eighty from feeling on top of the world, almost as if he were flying, to having lost a
child took an immense toll on Louis. It seemed like all he was capable of doing was laying in bed
and crying. Having taken some time off work, Harry spent a lot of that time in bed with his mate.

The doctors didn’t, however, warn them of the isolation that often goes hand-in-hand with
miscarriage. No one ever knows what to say, so they say nothing. If they feel like they do know
what to say, it often comes out wrong, or even downright offensive, so they back off out of respect.

About a month after the miscarraige, with Louis still deep in the throes of denial and depression,
Harry gets invited to a lunch with his old college friend, Nick, who’s in town and wants to catch
up. Figuring it’d be a good idea to get out of the house, Harry invites Louis, who - shockingly -
agrees to tag along.

The lunch starts out well enough. Harry has been more mentally present over the last week or so,
and he keeps the conversation off of any…sensitive topics and allows Louis to simply be. The
omega nibbles on his BLT halfheartedly, keeping his eyes locked on the tiled floor of the cafe they
agreed to meet at. He’s stared at it long enough, and hard enough, that the previously-assumed
random placement of tiles reveals itself to have a pattern that repeats every meter or so.

The harsh scraping of Harry’s chair brings him back to the present just as Harry drops a kiss onto
the top of his head with a quiet, almost hesitant, “Going to the loo; be right back.” Louis nods.

They two men sit in silence for a few moments before Nick scoffs. “I don’t get it,” He admits. When
Louis is silent, praying that Nick will stop talking and simply wait for Harry to come back to finish
their conversation about a football match, the alpha takes that as an invitation to continue. “It’s
been a month, right?” This time, he hardly pauses to take a breath, much less to wait for Louis to
confirm his suspicion. “Why don’t you just try again? Have another baby; you’re young, Louis.
You have plenty of time.”

In complete and utter shock, Louis sits there waiting for Nick to take it back, but he doesn’t. He
continues looking at Louis with that stupid, condescending look on his face. He seems genuinely
astounded that Louis wouldn’t have thought of that himself. For the first time since Louis’s
muttered greeting when they arrived, he opens his mouth, shooting to his feet as a single angry,
defeated tear streaks down his left cheek.

“How dare you?” Louis seethes. He vaguely registers Harry’s broad shoulders moving closer as
he returns from the bathroom, but Louis doesn’t back down. “There is no replacement on Earth for
a baby , you ignorant, delusional bastard, and no one in their right mind would mate with you if
that’s what you th-”

“Louis, Louis, Lou, c’mon,” Harry interrupts what would have been the most epic alpha
smackdown this cafe has ever seen, and the second he turns his blazing, bright blue gaze onto his
mate, the fight leaves him. He sags under the weight of Nick’s words as if hearing them again, and
his face crumples. An ache grows, and it spreads all the way down his legs until it settles, heavy, in
his heart. Guiding him softly out the door, Harry flags down a wide-eyed waitress to tell her that,
“the gentleman at the table will be taking care of the bill.”

Looking back, Harry thinks it’s that moment that Louis decided shutting everyone out would be
easier than trying to work through it. Harry, on the other hand, speaks to his mum on the phone
regularly, talking through what he is feeling and how they are (or aren’t, in Louis’s case) coping.
He always feels exhausted after those conversations, but little by little, Harry also begins to feel the
heaviness of grief lifting from his shoulders.

Louis, though - after the emotionally-traumatic process of deconstructing their nest - obsesses. He
lays in their bed, day after day for hours on end, engrossed in his research. There is a flicker of
hope in the back of his mind that the doctors were wrong. Maybe he didn’t actually have a
miscarraige; maybe the tests were wrong, or inconclusive, or even accidentally swapped with
another mother who really did have a miscarriage.

His search history is a never-ending trail of questions that range from ‘other reasons you may
bleed during pregnancy’ to ‘did I really have a miscarriage?’ None of it gives him any lasting
relief, though, because at the end of the week, Louis gets his first post-miscarriage period.

The sight of the blood catches him off guard, leaving him breathless. It throws him back five weeks
to when he was standing in the bathroom looking down at his blood-soaked pants. He stutters
through some slow, deep breaths and rationalizes the fact that, no, this isn’t yet another
miscarriage. Harry and him haven’t been intimate since it happened, so there’s no way he could be
pregnant again. Waves of pain from the intense cramps match the excruciating pain that
reverberates in his chest. The reality of his miscarriage settles in at that moment, and he ends up
back in bed.

After the miscarraige, Louis decided to take a step back from auditions to let his mind and body
recover. The ‘step back’ slowly turns into a ‘break,’ which eventually settles into Louis semi-
retiring. He finds himself backing away from everyone after the initial calls that they (technically,
Harry) make to their families to break the news. Everyone is understandably confused and
sympathetic for them, but Louis knows they’ll never truly understand. His sister, Lottie, who was
four months along when he got his first positive test, gave birth to a beautiful baby boy recently.

Louis wasn’t ready for the all-encompassing fury he felt upon seeing her smiling face holding a
giggly baby as she joined the Skype call. He knows it isn’t fair, but the second he sees that baby,
he’s out of his seat and down the hall. The door slamming shut behind him reverberates down the
hall, leaving an awkward silence in the house.

With a heavy heart and a shaky voice, Harry breaks the news of the miscarriage to them. Unlike
the first call, there’s no lengthy conversation after, no words of wisdom passed down because no
one in their family has experienced loss like this.

Anger.

Even with the phone call over and done with, Harry having long since hung up after dropping the
bomb, rage still boils in Louis’s gut. He embraces the anger, reveling in the fact that he’s at least
feeling something . He’s just so angry. He’s angry that Lottie’s child is alive and well when his
isn’t. He’d been so excited to find out that their children would be so close in age, unlike their own
eight-year age gap. It had been something to look forward to, but now her child will forever be a
reminder of the one he lost.

He’s mad at the doctor for not catching the signs earlier; this should’ve been prevented. He’s mad
at the clinic who performed what is basically an unwilling abortion. His unrepressed rage burns
hot, violent, and the only relief is Harry.

Harry: the only thing that is getting him through this. It’s Harry that cooks and cleans and takes
care of Louis when he can’t take care of himself. Louis hates himself for being so weak, but
Harry’s been nothing but patient with him. Every time the never-ending patience gets to be too
much for Louis to handle, he spins around to shout at Harry, to beg him to get mad and rage with
him, but each time, the words die on his tongue. It’s Harry . As lonely as it feels sometimes, Louis
knows he isn’t truly alone. Despite everything he’s feeling, everything he’s going through, there’s
one person who understands exactly what he’s feeling. That’s why, even though the rage is
untamable at times, Louis isn’t mad at Harry. He didn’t do anything wrong.

Louis, on the other hand, is the most to blame. He had one, single job: carry their baby. But, he
failed. Two months post-misscarriage, after some less-intense research of his own, Harry comes to
him.

He finds the small omega curled up under a throw on the couch, staring blankly at the telly as it
makes noises to fill the silence. Jostling Louis as he sits down next to him, close but not quite
touching, Harry turns to face him. Out of the corner of his eye, Louis sees Harry’s face shift
between emotions as he thinks.

“You know,” Harry says after a few minutes of silence. “I read that, while thirty percent of
pregnancies end in miscarriage, they’re almost always the result of something unforeseen and
unavoidable. Nearly half the time, it’s because of chromosomal abnormalities in the embryo, and
sometimes it's because of environmental factors or even paternal factors like diabetes, heart
disease, or obesity.” Louis listens, but says nothing.

“Lou, please. It wasn’t your fault. Please, tell me you know that. Tell me you haven’t been sitting
in our room this whole time, thinking I blamed you for this, because I don’t .” His voice is
insistent, tugging at Louis’s already weak and fragile heart. His head is swimming; he can’t decide
if he wants to collapse into Harry and ask him to repeat that over and over until the ache in his
heart goes away or if he wants to stand up and walk out of the room. “Do you want to talk about
it? It really does help.”

Louis shakes his head. There’s nothing in the world Louis wants to do less than talk about losing
their baby. Tears blur his vision, and one slips out from his head’s movement. “Shh, Lou. I’ve got
you; we’ll get through it. It’ll get better.” It’s nearly inaudible, but it loosens something in Louis’s
chest to hear him say that, because Harry knows it will never be ‘okay.’ Even though Louis can’t
imagine a time where this ache won’t be the only thing he feels, he knows it won’t last forever.
Harry tugs him into his chest and they lay like that for the rest of the night, unmoving, finding true
comfort in the other for the first time in a while.

For the first few days after that night, Harry had assumed they’d made some progress in their
recovery, but one night, Harry is awoken by a clatter. Instinctually, Harry throws his arm across
the mattress to find Louis gone. A quick sniff tells him that Louis’s been gone a while, his scent
stale. Harry is on his feet in a second, taking note of the clothes scattered across the floor. He pads
down the hallway with purpose, ears pricked for the slightest movement. As he gets closer to the
end of the hall, he slows, poking his head around the corner.
Louis is on his hands and knees, nose to the floor as he moves around the edge of the room slowly.
It would be comical finding him in this position if not for the scent of desperation radiating from
his mate.

“Lou, love, what are you doing?” Despite his soft, calm voice, Louis still jumps in shock, having
been so focused on his task he didn't notice Harry’s scent drifting into the room.

“Checking for mold,” Louis says as if that were obvious. “The internet says that you’d see signs in
clothing, or even notice spots on the floor or walls, paired with rotten smelling flooring.”

“Love, we don’t have mold. This house is less than ten years old; all the plumbing is fine. Come
back to bed.”

“Environmental factors contribute to at least ten percent of miscarriages.” He sounds like he’s
reading a statistic verbatim from a website, and Harry takes in the dark circles under his wide,
almost frantic eyes.

The instinct to call Louis ‘baby’ has been something that Harry’s had to repress for fear of
upsetting his mate. The urge hits Harry again at that moment, but he forces it down. Instead, he
reaches out his hand and tugs Louis back down the hall with him slowly. “Come back to bed, Lou,
please.”

As Louis struggles with his mental health, Harry alternates between helicopter-mate levels of
worry and patient, understanding mate. He knows that Louis is dealing with everything in his own
way, at his own pace.

Louis had always thought that he and Harry were working through their grief at about the same
rate. Louis is definitely more explosively-emotional than Harry is, but he’s woken in the middle of
the night as the third month slips into the fourth and notices Harry is gone. Louis follows a muted
sound down the hall. As he gets closer to the source, Louis begins to make out the beats and
rhythms of a song. The volume gets louder, so loud that, as Louis stands on the interior side of
their garage door, he shies away to protect his sensitive ears.

He can just make out the sound of punches landing as he cracks the door open. Just as expected,
Harry is bouncing on his toes in the middle of their garage. He’s backed his car halfway out to
hang up a punching bag from the rafters. Hit after hit, Harry unleashes hell on the stiff fabric.
Louis is content with giving Harry some space to work out his feelings until he catches a flash of
red on the yellow of the punching bag.

Blood.

Louis isn’t sure if Harry doesn’t know, or just doesn’t care, but the sight and scent of blood has
Louis’s omega anxious. The feeling only intensifies when he registers Harry’s scent, sweat and oak
and anguish.

“Hazza!” Louis cries out when he’s unable to refrain, seeing more blood begin to smear on the
punching bag. He rushes to his mate’s side and immediately fusses over him. He feels a pang in his
heart when he realizes that he’s relying on his mothering instincts, treating this Harry much like
he would an injured child. “Hey, hey, c’mere, darling. Come inside, please.”

After a brief refusal in which Harry tries to convince his mate that he’s fine, Louis manages to get
Harry to come with him and get his hand cleaned and bandaged. Thankfully, by the time Louis has
finished fretting, Harry is much calmer, so it’s easy to coax him into bed for a cuddle and trick him
into laying down.

Five months after that night, Louis is a bit stuck. His mate has somehow climbed out of the hole
they’d retreated into, but Louis can’t find the ladder. The miscarriage remains heavy on his mind.
Harry returned to work after only a short month-long break, while Louis still gets emotional at the
sight of his nephew.

While Louis is cleaning up after dinner, Harry slinks into the kitchen with a hesitantly nervous
look on his face. He stands there, waiting, until Louis notices.

“What’s wrong, Haz?” Louis asks when Harry’s soft sigh gets his attention. He glances up from
where he’s loading the dishwasher to see his husband looking uncharacteristically shy.

“Did you know that, out of all the animals in the animal kingdom, male Emperor Penguins make
some of the best fathers?” Harry recites the fact in one quick breath. He hardly gives Louis a
moment to respond. “After the female lays an egg, she has to hunt to gain back her strength, so she
leaves him to take care of their baby.” Harry glances up from where he’d been staring at the floor.
He’s relieved by the fond (yet confused) look on Louis’s face, so he barrels on. “After he helps
build their nest, the male does nothing but sit on the egg for two months; he doesn’t even eat!”

Louis smiles at that, remembering how close he’d felt to Harry as they constructed their nest. It
was rare for omegas to allow their alphas to be a part of that process, but it was something that
Louis had daydreamed about when he was a kid. He’d loved the thought of his mate helping pick
out clothes that smelled like both of them. The threadbare shirt of Louis’s that he couldn’t bear to
part with would be tucked at the head of the nest, right next to Harry’s lavender jumper.

“I want to do something,” Harry says, jolting Louis from the thought.

“Tell me, Haz,” Louis prompts gently. Harry hands him a piece of paper, and Louis finds on the
other side a rough sketch of an emperor penguin leaning over to rest its beak on the downy head of
a chick. It’s beautiful.

“I think I’d like to get a tattoo for…” He trails off, shooting a glance at Louis. “You know, for
Regan.” It’s the first time they’ve spoken her name since they signed the death certificate at the
hospital. “What do you think?”

“I think…” Louis pauses to actually think about it for a second. The heartache thuds in his chest,
but he takes one look at Harry’s face, and knows what he’ll say. “I think it’s beautiful.”

“Is it okay? If I get it?” There’s no way Louis could say no, so he simply nods his head, going
easily when Harry pulls him in for a hug.

Even though the ache has lessened, Louis is left breathless, and it’s not from how tightly Harry
clings to him. Tha alpha returns to where he’d been on the couch. He pulls out his phone to scroll
through Instagram or play a game, and Louis takes the opportunity to excuse himself to their
bedroom.

Once he’s slipped under the duvet, curling his legs up underneath himself, Louis pulls his laptop
back out and dives back into the website that explains ways to prevent future miscarriages.

Nearly two hours later, well after the sun has sunk behind the trees and said it’s goodbyes until the
next day, Harry notices how long Louis’s been gone. The omega didn’t tell Harry what he was
going to do, so Harry, curiosity peaked, shuffles down the hall to find his mate. The prolonged
absence has begun to worry him, and he checks behind each closed door on his way to their
bedroom at the end of the hall.

The eerie silence makes Harry tense. There’s a faint light coming from under the partially-shut
bedroom door, and Harry pauses to listen for a few seconds before he squeezes inside. His heart
nearly breaks as his eyes find Louis.

The first thing Harry notices is his mate kneeling on the floor, head bowed into his hands. His back
is to Harry, so he doesn’t notice that he’s no longer alone. He’s praying , muttering words aloud
like that will bring answers. Harry - while he does have some beliefs - has never given them a
formal label. Louis, on the other hand, has never identified as religious. Ever. Seeing him on his
knees is almost as disconcerting as when he found him searching the house for mold.

Harry steps further into the room. He can make out the words Louis is saying now, and they do
nothing to assuage his worries.

“Why?” It’s practically a sob, and it breaks Harry’s heart to hear him like this. “Why me? Why
us? Why our first baby? I did everything right! I took the stupid vitamins and drank those
disgusting green smoothies. This isn’t fair.”

Before Harry can interject, Louis continues, his tear-stained face looking towards the ceiling
pleadingly. “If I had exercised more, or noticed that I’d missed my period sooner, would that have
helped? I shouldn’t have partied so much when I was a teenager. Please, please , whoever is
listening, I can’t - I need - Why did you take my baby?” His voice cracks, and he gasps once,
desperately, before he continues. “Please, I’ll do anything. We’re good people; we give to
charities and we are good! I didn’t even get to meet her. Please, let us get pregnant again. We’ll do
everything right. Just let me keep my baby, please.”

Having heard enough, Harry drops down behind Louis and, when a light brush of his hand over
Louis’s shoulder doesn’t trigger any kind of emotional breakdown, Harry hauls him off his knees
and clutches him tightly against his chest. Louis sobs, wails, screams, until his throat burns and
exhaustion takes over. When he wears himself out enough to slip into a semi-conscious state, Harry
settles them both in bed.

With his eyes closed and his face tucked into Louis’s neck, Harry prays for peace and relief from
the pain they’re feeling. He prays for the strength to help Louis through this, and relief from the
pain they both feel. When his mate’s trembling doesn’t subside, he finds himself wishing for the
pain and the grief to be transferred to him. Anything to relieve Louis from what he’s going through.

Bargaining.

The turning point comes when Louis, still not working and now home alone during the day without
Harry there, finds a blog written by a female omega who had suffered a miscarriage with her first
baby. She went on to have two happy, healthy children later, and upon reading that the first time,
Louis had smiled.

Louis finds it oddly comforting (in an emotionally detached way) to know that he’s not alone. He’s
read the statistics, and odds are, he knows several people who have gone through a miscarriage,
but they’re never talked about - viewed as taboo in some way. Reading first-hand the things this
woman struggled with, Louis feels…understood.
On a day Louis feels particularly at ease, he reaches out to the woman, Veronica, who runs the
blog. They exchange information, and Louis messages back and forth with her for nearly three
days before he notices that, outside of their conversations, Louis isn’t constantly thinking about the
miscarriage anymore.

Texting with Veronica is a bit like talking to a therapist. While she isn’t licensed, she does
understand what he’s going through in a way that not even Harry can. Over many days, some of
those harder than others, Louis feels the emotions easing until he’s more content than he’s felt in a
long time. It’s a bit like he’s distanced from the event - like speaking of a car accident that you saw
on the news or discussing a war happening in another country - and he can think about it without
breaking down.

Louis is in the middle of some deep breathing exercises when Harry arrives home. He requests a
cuddle on the couch before dinner that Harry easily agrees to.

“Let me jump in the shower really quick. Pick out a movie while I get ready and grab a snack if
you’d like.” Harry is grinning, and it’s truly the easiest thing in the world to return the gesture,
smiling back at his mate even after he stumbles down the hall.

Harry returns, shirtless, and joins Louis on the couch. They settle down next to each other, hands
twined, and wait for the movie Louis picked out to start. It’s a movie Harry has been wanting to
watch, and during one of Louis’s recent trips to the store, he’d found it on a clearance rack and
swiped the last copy. When the title menu for Ready Player One pops up, Harry turns to him with
his mouth open and eyes wide.

“Where’d you find this?” Harry asks.

“Saw it in the store and was waiting for a night we could sit down and watch it together.” Harry
smiles at him and ducks down to kiss him on the lips. He pecks him once, twice, three times, and
then peppers kisses all over Louis’s face as he squirms, pretending like he wants to get away.
“Hazza, stop,” Louis whines, but he’s smiling, so Harry continues for a few more seconds, before
he leans back. His eyes roam over Louis’s flushed, smiling face and he can’t help but press one
last firm kiss to Louis’s soft, thin lips.

“I love you,” Harry says.

Louis smiles at him shyly, but he covers his sudden shyness with an exaggerated eye roll. “So
sappy,” He teases. “It’s just a movie.”

They settle into the couch and Harry pushes ‘play.’ Louis was, when he’d found it at the store,
excited to watch this movie, but now he finds himself unable to focus on the storyline. As if he can
sense his unease, Harry lays a hand on Louis’s thigh and begins to rub small, gentle circles into
his bare skin. The touch is comforting, but it doesn’t help Louis focus. Instead, Louis captures
Harry’s hand and turns it over, palm up.

He traces the lines on Harry’s palm. After a while, he calms, relaxing back into the couch as he
continues running his fingers over his mate’s palm. Touching Harry has always relieved him from
any turmoil in his mind. The alpha’s skin is still warm from his shower. He must have used the
unscented soap, because Harry’s natural oak and lavender scent permeates through the air,
mixing with Louis’s own sweet vanilla scent to create a bubble of comfort.

Louis’s eyes trail up his mate’s thick forearm and settle on a familiar pair of penguins. Louis
skates his fingertip up to trace the thin, delicate lines of the chick. He doesn’t look up even when
he feels Harry’s eyes on him. Where Louis expects that same, familiar, wave of grief to hit him,
bowl him over, and leave him gasping for air, it doesn’t. The hit is more of a gentle nudge that
Louis simply brushes off after a moment. It leaves Louis feeling wistful, and a bit emotional, but
mostly just in love with Harry.

Acceptance.
 something ‘bout your love just sets me free
Chapter Notes

Be kind.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

August 2021 - Present Day

The front door opens, signaling Harry’s return from a mid-afternoon run. The warm weather has
generated a layer of sweat that drifts into the living room where Louis sits, poised, half a second
before his curly-haired husband rounds the corner. Louis shoots to his feet as Harry moves over to
the speaker on the counter, connecting his phone to the dock.

“Louis, when -”

“No,” Louis interrupts. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Do you even remember why we’re arguing?” Harry accuses gently, causing Louis to falter. He
takes in the fond exasperation on Harry’s face, and it fans the flames of fury that have been
burning in his gut the whole time Harry was gone. They haven’t lessened despite the distance, but
Louis thinks about it.

“No,” Louis admits reluctantly. He squirms away from his mate as Harry tries to bring him in for a
reconciling cuddle. Glaring up at Harry, his body is tense in a way it never is when it comes to his
alpha, but despite Louis having forgotten the source of this particular spat, the fury is still there.
“My brain doesn’t remember, but my body does , so we’re both still mad at you.”

A familiar guitar riff fills the silence in the wake of Louis’s words, and it’s only then that he
relaxes - reluctantly. With his mate’s guard down, Harry tugs him into his chest without a fight just
as a voice croons from the speaker: there’s gonna be days when you hate me; there’s gonna be
days when I make you mad .

Their song floats around the open air, and Louis mentally sings the word along with his mate as he
lets his mind drift.

While they were surfing on the internet last year, Harry happened upon a video of a mated pair
who decided to go to couples’ therapy. They discussed the journey of their relationship over the
past two years, making note of their struggles and victories. The video had been edited to include
captioned explanations of what is happening in the videos while a song called The Bad Days by
David Rameriez played calmly in the background.

The first time he heard it, Harry added it to their shared playlist that they listen to together, and it
quickly became a white flag for them both. They both take turns waving it as a way to end petty
fights and remind each other that they’ve just hit another speed bump on the journey of their
marriage.

Nearly ninety percent of the time, everything can be fixed with a hug, a kiss, or an apology (or a
mixture of the three). Louis, however, is too prideful to admit to being wrong, so the song became
their wordless apology.

Harry and him sway side-to-side, calm and quiet in the empty kitchen. Not even the low murmur of
the telly that Louis had been pretending to watch breaks into their bubble. Louis gradually feels the
tense knot of anxiety release, and he leans further into Harry as they begin to spin. The kitchen
slowly morphs into a dancefloor, and the only thing they acknowledge is the hopeful voice
crooning we’ll carry on. I know we can find a way and the smell and the feel of one another.

In total, they loop the song three times before Louis deems himself ready to leave their bubble.
Nosing his way into Harry’s neck, Louis scents Harry, apologizing without words for yet another
stupid argument. The past couple weeks have been mentally and physically exhausting for Louis.

For a reason unbeknownst to him, Louis has found himself rankled over the slightest of things that
Harry does. About ten days earlier, Harry brought home a puppy that had taken an immediate
liking to the alpha. Louis, who is basically the omega version of Dr. Dolittle, who is (even now)
cast aside when it comes to the infuriating creature, isn’t accustomed to being ignored by animals.
As stupid as it sounds, the brown, black, and white border collie-terrier thing got under his skin.
Thankfully, one of Harry’s coworkers, Liam, asked if he could take the puppy, and Louis agreed
whole-heartedly.

Two days ago, Harry had gotten held up at work. Having worked himself into a panic, by the time
Harry had arrived home, Louis was hardly consolable. It had taken nearly thirty minutes for Louis
to come out of a soft-drop and regain a solid enough grasp on reality to register Harry, completely
unharmed and safe, in front of him. The entire ordeal was scary, and Harry has been acutely aware
of every minute Louis is away from him after that.

As Louis pulls away from Harry, the alpha takes note of the faint dark circles under his mate’s eyes
and vows to get them both into bed early tonight.

“We okay?” Harry asks, nosing into the soft hair behind Louis’s ear. The smaller boy huffs and
tucks his ear to his shoulder.

“Tickles,” He complains lightly. “Yeah, we’re good.” He looks up at Harry, clear blue eyes
locking on Harry’s green ones. The intensity of the love evident in his eyes leaves Harry a bit
breathless, even after all this time.

By nonchalantly moving up the time he starts cooking dinner, Harry manages to complete their
routine of dinner-movie-shower nearly forty minutes earlier than normal. They’re in bed, teeth
brushed and skin still warm from their shared shower, well before nine, and Louis is out after only
ten minutes of Harry’s light scenting.

From his position as big spoon, Harry finds himself with his eyes closed, relishing in the feeling of
Louis’s ribs and shoulders moving with each deep breath. The slow, repetitive breaths from Louis
paired with Harry’s stillness so as not to disturb him are always a sure-fire way to lull Harry to
sleep. Slipping into dreams is easy for Harry that night.

When Louis wakes up the next morning, his eyes blink open and, for the first time in a while, he
doesn’t feel tired. He notes the empty bed and figures Harry has gone for a run or to the gym, for a
workout. Unfortunately, Louis isn’t able to bask in the last day of his weekend before a flutter in
his belly gives way to nausea. The twisting in his gut rips him out of bed, and he stumbles to the
bathroom and collapses in front of the toilet. Gripping at the white ceramic bowl, Louis’s body
curls in on itself, and he retches twice before throwing up into the toilet.

The nausea subsides quickly after he empties his stomach of last night’s dinner, but a newer, more
panicked feeling quickly takes its place. On his hands and knees, Louis scrambles back into the
bedroom. With shaky hands, he fumbles with his phone until he can find Harry’s contact photo. He
clicks on the picture of Harry and him from a recent trip to the park for a walk. In the picture, their
smiles are wide, frozen for eternity, photographic evidence of their happiness on that day.

He thinks of Harry’s smile as he brings the phone up to his ear. He thinks of that smile slipping off
his face when Louis tells him what’s happening. Louis is distantly aware of his lungs stuttering for
breath just as a tear drips from his cheek to darken a tiny, perfect circle on his sleep shorts. When a
voice cuts into his panic, Louis has to choke back a sob.

“Hey, baby,” Harry greets, breathless. He’s running. Louis can hear his smile, that same damn
smile, and his mind gifts him the mental image of Harry’s smile fading on a loop. Over and over
and over. He isn’t able to stifle the whimper he lets out. Harry’s voice is distant when he asks,
voice now laced with concern, “Lou, hey, what’s wrong? What happened?” He half-acknowledges
the sound of Harry’s footsteps slowing, stopping as he turns all his attention to his mate.

A thud registers next, and Louis’s first concern is that Harry tripped over his feet again before
Louis realizes that, because of how hard his hands are shaking, he dropped his phone. He picks it
up again, hearing Harry’s frantic voice calling his name, asking him to say something.

“I-I woke up, and I…in the bathroom. I,” Louis coughs out a broken sound. Over the phone, he can
hear the distressed sound Harry makes, and he copies it, calling out for his mate. He hears frantic
scuffling over the line and hopes that Harry is turning around and coming home. He needs him; he
needs his alpha here.

“Louis, please tell me what happened. You’re scaring me.” Louis is scared, too. His chest is tight,
and if he wasn’t already sitting, he would collapse.

“I can’t,” Louis gasps. “I can’t breathe.”

“Calm down, love, take some deep breaths,” Harry says evenly. Louis hears the familiar sound of
Harry’s feet slapping the pavement hard and fast, and he feels the strain in his lungs ease the tiniest
bit. Simply knowing that Harry is on his way is settling. “Talk to me if you can, Louis. I’m right
here.”

Louis is so out of it that it feels like it takes Harry an hour to get home despite knowing he jogs
around the block. The sound of the front door opening startles Louis even as Harry speaks calmly
in his ear. Louis clutches the phone desperately, as it’s the only thing connecting him to Harry.

“I’m inside,” Harry says softly. “Where are you, Lou?”

“Bedroom.”

Harry is there in seconds, pushing the door open with his body so roughly that it bounces off the
wall behind it, settling half-closed after he’s moved through it. The alpha drops down onto his
knees next to Louis, running his hands over the smaller man reverently to check for injuries. The
sour smell of anxiety wafts from Harry, and Louis shies away from it as he simultaneously leans
into Harry’s touch.

“What happened, Lou?” Harry asks without really expecting an answer. He’s honestly shocked that
Louis has been giving intelligible answers now that he’s here and seeing the state of his mate. After
a moment to calm his racing mind, stifling the tremendous anxiety that had washed over him when
he’d heard the sound of Louis’s voice, Harry settles on the floor with Louis and holds him.

It takes several long moments before Harry feels the trembling lessen, then eventually stop. Louis
comes back to himself over the next ten minutes until he’s answering simple questions.

“Two things you can smell,” Harry prompts softly.

“Laundry detergent,” Louis says. “And fear.”

“One thing you can taste.” Louis doesn’t answer, and Harry frowns down at him. “Lou?”

“When I woke up,” Louis breathes, voice nearly inaudible. “Nausea forced me out of bed, but I was
completely fine after I threw up.”

“Louis…”

“I - I don’t know what…” He shakes his head. “I know what I think it means, but I don’t know
what to do.”

“Do you want to take a test here? Do you want to go to the ER? I can call Dr. Griffin and see if she
can see you this afternoon?” Harry sounds breathless. “What do you want to do?”

“I want to know. I have to know.”

“Okay, love,” Harry says patiently. “Let’s find out.”

Fifteen minutes after they shuffle into the bathroom, Harry turns off the alarm he set on his phone.
With a nod, he encourages Louis to turn the test over. He doesn’t move.

“What do you want it to say?” Louis whispers.

“What?” Harry furrows his eyebrows even though he knows exactly what Louis is asking.

“Do you want it to be positive?” Louis rephrases. “Or negative?” Harry wraps his arms around
Louis from behind, resting his chin over Louis’s shoulder. He turns his head to press a kiss to his
bondmark.

“I’ve known that I wanted a family with you since I asked you on our third date,” Harry says on an
exhale.

“It’s been three years,” Louis reminds him needlessly. He bites on his lower lip, nervous, and
Harry relaxes. Reading Louis was something he struggled with at first, but now, after five years of
marriage and nearly eight together, Harry considers himself an expert. That single, self-conscious
action gives Harry the nerve he needs to continue.

“I wanna have a baby, baby,” Harry whispers. “Want a baby with you.”

Louis doesn’t respond, but the muscles in his back relax, and he leans forward to flip the test over.
With the most careful excitement Harry can muster, he hauls Louis up into his arms for a gentle
hug when he reads the single word through his tear-blurry vision.

Pregnant.
Due to Louis’s previous miscarriage, and the general caution that comes along with a pregnancy
after miscarriage, Dr. Griffin manages to squeeze them in for an emergent appointment only two
days later. Harry, having called out of work to be with Louis, drives his mate to the office where
Dr. Griffin works.

They wait for hardly ten minutes before they’re called back. Squeezing Harry’s hand tightly, Louis
follows the alpha back to their designated exam room. There’s already equipment set up, some
familiar and some not. He feels a flicker of anxiety, but presses it down as a familiar, motherly face
comes into the room.

“Louis,” Dr. Griffin greets him with a warm smile. “And Harry, how are you doing?”

“A bit nervous, but overall, we’re doing just fine,” Harry takes over when Louis doesn’t reply.

“We’re going to take a blood test first, Louis,” Dr. Griffin says patiently. “Want to make sure we
need all this big scary equipment before I start pouring cold gel on you and asking you a bunch of
nosy questions.” Louis tries to smile, but he knows it looks more like a grimace, so he nods his
consent and holds out his arm for some blood to be taken.

It’s an uncomfortably-similar experience, one that leaves Louis tense. During his first pregnancy,
they’d taken his blood and come back within a few moments to tell him the good news, “Yes,
Louis, you are pregnant! Congratulations.” It happens again today, and, even though this is
everything that Louis has wanted, he still feels a bit uneasy.

The doctor pulls out a patient file secured to a clipboard and begins asking Louis the ‘nosy
questions’ she’d warned him about.

“When was your last heat?” She asks.

“Three months ago.”

“And your last period?”

“Eight weeks, but it’s normal for my periods to be that far apart,” He says. Dr. Griffin makes note
of that with a nod and smiles up at him.

“I’d estimate you’re about seven or so weeks along, but that can be verified with an ultrasound.”

“Can we hear the heartbeat?” Harry asks hesitantly. Louis perks up immediately.

“Yes, please” Louis says almost desperately. As soon as it’s spoken, Louis knows that hearing his
baby’s heartbeat will calm his racing mind.

She quickly sets up the machine while Louis squirms in his seat. Cool gel is squeezed onto his
belly once he’s settled back with his shirt rucked up, and Dr. Griffin swipes the wand slowly over
his belly. She flips a switch for the audio, and Louis holds his breath.

The room is silent.

The silence stretches for several uncomfortable minutes before Dr. Griffin leans forward with a
quiet hmmm . Once again, Louis feels his life crumbling around him, and the only thing that’s
running through his mind is not this, not again, please, no. Not again.

There’s no heartbeat, no sign of life. The fear that had been niggling at the back of Louis’s mind
has come back full-force, and he tries his best to shove everything out. He takes deep, measured
breaths to calm his racing heart. A hand settles on top of his, and the warmth of the calloused palm
tells him it’s Harry.

Despite his best efforts, Louis still hears the conversation between Dr. Griffin and Harry. His
mate’s voice is thick, raspy, and he sounds as broken as Louis feels when he asks, “What does this
mean?”

“Well, take a look here,” Dr. Griffin urges, and Louis’s eyes follow without his consent. She traces
the outside of a small - much smaller than the ultrasound for his last pregnancy - black area. “This
is the gestational sac. It’s still quite small, smaller than it should be at seven weeks. What this
likely means is that you aren’t as far along as I expected. It’s hard to determine a date of conception
with periods as far apart as yours, Louis.”

“So,” Harry prompts.

“We just drew Louis’s blood,” Dr. Griffin says. “The levels of hCG in his blood confirm that he is
pregnant, but at this time, it’s too early for a heartbeat. I’d estimate you’re about five or six weeks
along given that the yolk sac isn’t visible in your gestational sac yet.”

“What’s a yolk sac?” Louis asks. “Is that what will become my baby?”

“It’s one of the first things we can see on an ultrasound,” Dr. Griffin explains patiently. “It will
provide nourishment to the embryo as it develops, but no, it will not develop into a fetus. This early
in a pregnancy, it’s uncommon to even notice a missed period or anything out of the ordinary, so
there’s really nothing to do except wait.”

“But, I am pregnant?” Louis asks.

“Yes, Louis. You are pregnant. I’d like to see you back in two weeks just to keep an eye on
everything, but you’re free to head to the desk and check out. Continue eating right and drinking
plenty of water. Would you like pictures?”

Harry and Louis both nod. When they walk back to their car twenty minutes later, they have
cautiously optimistic smiles on their faces and full hearts.

***

September 2021

In front of their bedroom mirror with his shirt pulled up, Louis twists from side to side. His gaze
drifts down to his stomach, which - at only two months along - is still flat. Resting his hand just
below his belly button, Louis closes his eyes and pictures himself further along, stomach swollen
with their pup. A familiar scent tickles his nose, and he opens his eyes to see Harry staring at him
fondly from the doorway. His eyes drop down to Louis’s stomach as well. An expert on Harry’s
facial expressions, Louis catches the change in his eyes when he sees Louis’s stomach.

“It’s still early,” Louis tells him. “I won’t be showing for a while.” Harry already knows this; he
spent weeks pouring over various What to Expect When You’re Expecting type books when they
were pregnant the first time.

“I know, baby,” Harry says with a small smile. He pads forward to stand next to Louis in the
mirror, and he wraps his arms around his waist. His curls tickle the sensitive skin of Louis’s neck
when he hooks his chin over Louis’s shoulder. Pulling Louis back against his torso, Harry nuzzles
his nose into Louis’s scent gland.

In response to his wordless request, Louis scents his mate, and he can feel Harry relax against him.
The taller man begins to hum. Recognizing the song instantly, Louis closes his eyes and hums
along, singing in his head - there’s gonna be days when you don't know what we're doing; maybe
some days you wish you could take it all back. Harry tapers off, growing quiet, and Louis wonders
what he’s thinking.

“I love you,” Harry rumbles against his skin. Louis shivers, and he catches how the corners of his
lips pull up in the mirror.

“I love you, too,” Louis says. Harry rubs his cheek against Louis’s scent gland one more time
before he stands to his full height and catches Louis’s eyes in the mirror. “I think we should tell our
families.”

In the mirror, Harry’s face falls blank, and Louis turns to look at him for real. He can see the cogs
spinning in Harry’s head as his mate hesitates, opening his mouth and closing it again without
speaking.

“It’s still so early, though,” Harry finally decides on. Louis thinks he’s going to say more, so he
waits, but nothing more comes.

“Yeah, but it’s my mum,” Louis says. “She’ll kill me if she knows I kept it in.”

“I think she’d understand our hesitation in blabbing to everyone and their dog, considering -” Harry
cuts himself off with a shrug.

“Considering what?” Louis takes a step back.

“Considering the fact that, the last time we told our families, we then had to tell them about the
miscarriage,” Harry says carefully. “I just think we should wait a bit, you know? Maybe until after
the first trimester or something, like normal.”

“Societal norms don’t dictate when we tell people about our baby, Harry,” Louis says, voice low
and dangerous. Harry can tell he’s walking on thin ice, and he warily continues.

“No, but statistics are pretty convincing,” Harry tells him. “After the first trimester, the chances of
miscarriage drop significantly.”

“I know that,” Louis snaps. “But shouldn’t I have control over my own body; shouldn’t I get a
say?”

“You do have control, love,” Harry tries, as patiently as ever. His calm tone irks Louis, and he
glares up at his mate. “You could go tell every single person you know - hell, you could post it on
the internet - and I couldn’t stop you. But I think that we should talk it out and decide together
when we tell people.”

“Oh, so it’s that, my way or the highway , bullshit, now,” Louis mocks with a scoff. Harry doesn’t
rise to the bait. He looks at Louis calmly, and tries to explain himself.

“That isn’t what I’m -”

“It’d just be our families,” Louis bargains. “Or even just our mums.” Harry hesitates, but Louis can
see the answer written all over his face.

“I’d feel more comfortable waiting until after the first trimester…” Harry reiterates cautiously.

“Stop it,” Louis huffs. “I don’t like the fact that you’re assuming we’re gonna lose this one, too.
It’ll be fine; I’m going to do everything right this time.”

“I’m not saying that at all, Lou, come ‘ere.” Harry’s face twists into something heartbreakingly
familiar, but Louis doesn’t let himself get pulled in. When Harry takes a step towards Louis, arms
out to pull him into a cuddle, Louis’s glare darkens.

“No,” He says. Harry freezes. “No. A hug isn’t going to fix it. You’re being an asshole.” He
doesn’t wait for Harry to say anything before he storms out of the room. Halfway down the hall, he
realizes he should’ve made Harry leave, because he’d planned to lay in bed and read.

Instead, he pulls out his phone and opens Instagram, scrolling angrily. He double-taps a few
pictures that look pretty without acknowledging who posted them and keeps scrolling. After
reading his childhood friend Stan’s post for the third time and noticing he has no clue what it’s
about, Louis shakes himself. Refocused, he skims over a celebratory post that mentions his
girlfriend passed some test. Louis’s mind trails to his husband, remembering the posts he’s made
over the last few years congratulating him for various achievements.

Louis really is lucky to have such an amazing mate. Harry is kind and quirky and frequently has
him in tears from laughing so hard. He’s also unyieldingly patient: a perfect match to Louis’s often
impulsive decision making process. His mate is also incredibly intelligent. From the time they met,
Harry has had the ability to think through situations before they even happen, and it’s something
that Louis admires even now: his level-headedness even in tough situations. It’s something that
Louis never learned.

With all of the potential ways a situation could go, Harry is often ready for anything. When they
argue - even if Harry is the one to apologize first - he’s usually the one who made the correct or
more reasonable suggestion. It’s typically Harry that has his head on straight.

With a sigh, Louis reluctantly admits he may have jumped the gun a bit. He understands why Harry
is hesitant to tell everyone.

With his proverbial tail between his legs, Louis slinks back down the hall. In the doorway, Louis
sees his mate sprawled out on the bed. He looks deep in thought, and Louis considers fleeing until
Harry glances over at him. Deciding to be the bigger person this time, (yes, he can be the bigger
person) he walks all the way into the room and sits down at the edge of the bed next to the alpha.
Harry’s eyes track him, but his face is blank. After gently scenting the air, Louis finds it
completely void of anything, meaning that Harry is purposefully guarding himself, and that makes
Louis upset; Harry should never feel like he has to hide what he’s feeling from Louis.

Toeing at the carpet, Louis has no idea where they stand, so he starts with the most important part,
“I’m sorry. You aren’t an asshole; I am.” He hangs his head, but doesn’t pause long enough for
Harry to say anything; he isn’t done yet. “I hate this excuse, but it’s the hormones. My body - I - I
just don’t know what to do with them.”

“Thank you,” Harry says, still void of emotion. “For apologizing. You’re forgiven; I was never
upset.”

“And you were right,” Louis says. “We should wait to tell everyone.”
“I didn’t mean no, we can’t tell anyone,” Harry says, finally sitting up to look at Louis. There is a
hint of something on his face, and Louis feels his hopes rise. “If you need your mum during this
time, then you should absolutely tell her. I just think that we should hold off on telling friends and
coworkers and the neighbor down the street until after the first trimester is over.”

“Okay.”

“That’s it? Okay?” Harry raises his eyebrows suspiciously, and Louis pouts.

“What, I can’t agree with you now?” Louis huffs dramatically. He has to bite at the corners of his
cheeks when the reaction pulls a smile from his husband. “I just can’t win with you, can I?” His
voice drips with exasperation, but the fond smile that breaks out on his face makes Harry chuckle.
The omega is still fake-grumbling even as he lets Harry tug him closer as he lays down. As soon as
Harry’s warmth and scent envelop him, he settles.

Louis has quickly gotten used to resting a hand on his stomach when he lays down, or sits, or
walks, or does anything really. Doing so now, as he lays in bed with his mate, he can feel Harry’s
eyes on him. He half expects Harry’s hand to cover his own, to rub gentle circles on his belly, but
the alpha doesn’t move other than to cast his eyes back to the ceiling.

***

October 2021

It’s early. Louis can tell simply by how weak the sunlight streaming through the window is.
Despite the early hour, Louis feels wide awake, but that’s (in part) due to how badly he needs to
pee. Squirming a bit to detangle himself from the sheets, Louis shuffles into the bathroom to
relieve himself.

He’s nearly sweating by the time he’s washing his hands, and he shifts uncomfortably. Once his
hands are dried, he pulls his (Harry’s) shirt over his head, leaving it on the bed as he makes his way
into the kitchen. As he reaches into the fridge for a blueberry-banana smoothie Harry had prepared
for him last night, Louis freezes.

“Harry!” He calls, voice echoing through the house. With how strong his mate’s scent is, Louis
knows he must be around the house somewhere. There’s a crash, running feet, and a wide-eyed,
red-faced Harry slides around the corner, nearly slipping and braining himself on the countertop as
his socked feet slide out from under him.

“Lou? Fuck. What’s wrong? Is it the baby?”

“Nothing’s wrong, love,” Louis says, gesturing down at his bare stomach. “Look!”

Harry’s gaze wanders down the omega’s curvy body, and Louis watches as Harry licks his lips,
gaze dark. Flushing a bit under the intense stare, Louis decides to give his mate a hint.

“I’m finally showing! See?” He turns to the side, rubbing a hand over the subtle roundness of his
belly. “Baby is growing bigger everyday!”

“You scared the hell out of me,” Harry breathes, running a hand over his tired face. Now that Louis
takes a good look at him, his mate looks exhausted. It’s something so simple, something that Louis
should’ve felt in their bond, but he hadn’t. With a frown, Louis holds his hand out for his mate’s.
Harry accepts it easily and walks forward when Louis tugs him in for a cuddle. They sway lightly
in the kitchen for a few moments.

Pushing himself up onto his toes, Louis worms his face into the crook of Harry’s neck and places a
kiss just over his bond mark before he rubs his face against his, leaving his scent there and
relishing in the fact that he smells like Harry when he pulls back.

“I’m sorry I scared you,” Louis says softly. He has to extract himself from the hug when Harry’s
rough shirt rubs against his skin the wrong way. “Was just excited.”

A soft smile spreads over Harry’s face, and he pets his hand down Louis’s cheek, caressing him.
After pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his other cheek, Harry murmurs, “Don’t apologize, baby.
Love seeing you this happy.”

“Lou, baby,” Harry calls up the stairs. “C’mon! We should leave soon” Louis huffs, pulling off yet
another tshirt.

“I’m just getting dressed,” Louis calls back. “Be right there!”

“You said that ten minutes ago.” Harry’s voice has gotten closer, and Louis whirls around to see
the state of their bedroom that he’d expected to have enough time to clean up. There are shirts
scattered everywhere - Harry’s and Louis’s - but he can’t find one to wear to their ultrasound
appointment. “What’s taking so -” Harry’s voice trails off, and Louis jerks his head up to find his
mate in the doorway, taking in the disaster of their room.

“I’ll be right down,” Louis repeats, trying to subtly usher Harry back down the hall. He doesn’t
seem to get the hint, because he steps further into the room, head still swiveling around.

“What happened here?” Harry asks, voice even. Louis drops his gaze down to the floor, feeling
traitorous tears gather in his eyes. He blinks rapidly, trying to clear them, but that only makes it
worse.

“Just trying to find something that, erm, fits,” Louis says, voice a tad uneven. Harry immediately
picks up on it - he always does - and steps closer.

“Love,” Harry says. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing fits,” Louis sniffs, picking up the shirt he’d just thrown onto the bed and letting it drop
back onto the bed.

“You can wear something of mine,” Harry says, moving towards his own closet.

“All your shirts are super itchy,” Louis whines, shaking his head.

“What about this one?” Harry asks, lifting up a soft, nearly threadbare shirt that Louis loves to
sleep in. It comes down to nearly mid thigh, and Louis loves it, but he flushes a bright pink.

“Already tried it on,” Louis mumbles, shaking his head.

“You didn’t like it?” Harry asks, eyebrows raised in surprise. “You love this shirt.”
“It just doesn’t look right.” Louis squirms, crossing his arms over his bare chest. He winces and
uncrosses them, shifting instead to palm at his mini-bump.

“We’re just going to the store and to see Dr. Griffin, babe,” Harry chuckles. “You don’t need
anything special.”

Not wanting his mate to wait on him, Louis tugs Harry’s shirt over his head and nods. He squirms
at the feel of the material, but walks out before Harry can say anything. When Harry catches up to
him as he’s stuffing his feet into his shoes, he’s tugging at the front of the shirt with a small frown.
He looks adorable, a bit like a sad kitten, and Harry wraps his arms around his mate from behind.
However, when Louis promptly bursts into tears, Harry is shocked.

“Love, hey, Louis, what’s wrong, baby?” Harry asks, turning the omega to face him. His face is
flushed, more from embarrassment than from the crying, and he shakes his head. He swallows the
next few hiccups, coughing to cover them up and shakes his head again. The tears don’t stop
though, and despite his best efforts, the words come tumbling out of his mouth before he can stop
them.

“All my shirts are itchy, and even the soft ones rub against my nipples and it feels so good,” He
sobs. “But it’s embarrassing, so I just keep my shirt off, plus it’s really fucking hot in here all the
time and I can’t, Haz, I feel so itchy.” Harry tries to pull his mate in to scent him because Louis’s
sobs are starting to worry him. His breath is hitching and he’s looking a tad bit panicked, and Harry
wants to help. Louis pushes him away when he tries to nuzzle into Louis’s neck, and Harry’s heart
breaks a bit.

“Louis,” Harry whines. “Just wanna hold you.”

“No,” Louis says, sniffing strongly. “Cause you smell like you and I’m already half-hard and if you
hug me we won’t be able to leave for at least another twenty minutes.” He’s desperately trying to
stop himself from crying; his face is already sticky and tight with tears. Slick is hovering just at the
edge of his rim, threatening to soak his underwear at the first touch.

“Maybe I can help with both of those problems,” Harry says. Hesitantly, in case Louis decides to
push him away again, Harry rubs his thumbs over Louis’s hip bones, sliding his palms up and over
the curve of Louis’s waist. The friction shifts the shirt in just the right way, and Louis moans. His
eyes flutter shut and his entire body relaxes. His underwear, now damp with slick, stick to his arse
uncomfortably, but he hardly notices. Harry can see the way his prick jumps in his shorts. “Fuck,
Lou. Look so good. Can I help you out a bit? Please? Wanna make you feel so good.”

Louis nods his head frantically, pawing at Harry’s arms. “Yeah, please,” He pants. “Need it.”

Harry hardly wastes any time, pulling Louis’s shirt up and over his head. He watches the way
Louis’s pupils blow wide as the material drags over his nipples, ripping a groan from the smaller
man.

“Look so lovely, baby,” Harry praises as he deposits the shirt on the floor carelessly. “What do you
want, love?”

“Mouth,” Louis gasps out. “Want your mouth, Haz.”

“Okay, darling,” Harry says. “Gonna give you what you want.” He folds himself onto the floor
before peeling Louis’s shorts down. He tucks his nose into the crease of his upper thigh and inhales
deeply, dizzy from pheromones. The omega’s short, fat prick bobs free of his boxers when Harry
folds the waistband under his cheeks. Without teasing, he licks a single stripe up Louis’s cock and
engulfs him nearly halfway on the first bob.

“No- ooo ,” Louis says around a moan. He tangles his fingers in Harry’s hair and gently tugs him
off. With an obscene pop , Harry lets the omega’s erection go.

“What, love? Changed your mind?”

“No. Want your mouth,” Louis reiterates, trembling slightly. “But -” His pink cheeks, and how
quickly his heart is beating, tell Harry he’s too embarrassed to say it.

“Don’t want my mouth on your pretty little cock, baby?” Harry asks, teasing a single finger up the
length. It twitches, and Louis moans, shaking his head. “Where do you want my mouth?”

“Haz, please,” Louis begs, legs shaking. Harry runs his hands up past the loose hem of Louis’s
shorts, rubbing his skin lightly to soothe him.

“Want my mouth on those pretty nipples?” Harry asks despite knowing the answer. Louis nods his
head frantically, and Harry stands back up. Pressing a kiss to the bond mark on Louis’s chest, he
revels in the way the smaller man shivers. He leaves a trail of wet, open-mouthed kisses up and
back down his mate’s neck, moving closer and closer to where the omega wants him.

He licks over the left nipple and blows, making Louis choke on a moan. When his mouth comes
back to lick over it again, his hand comes up to tease at the other one. Louis breathes out a sigh of
relief and tangles his hands in Harry’s curls, not moving or guiding him, but holding him in place.

With one hand on Louis’s arse, squeezing and kneading, he can feel his muscles trembling. The
very tips of his fingers are soaked in slick, but Harry hardly pays any mind to it. He hardly has time
to kiss across Louis’s chest to the other nipple, toying with the abused and puffy one with his
thumb before Louis is shaking through his orgasm, completely untouched. His legs threaten to give
out, but Harry’s already got his arms around his waist.

“Good boy,” Harry praises softly. “Did so well, so beautiful.” He presses one last kiss to Louis’s
swollen nipple, chuckling when Louis whines. When Harry stands up straight, he nearly loses his
breath. Louis looks completely wrecked, eyes glassy and face pink. There’s no way he could walk
through a store, even if Harry was willing to let him out of the house looking like this.

“How about I run to the store myself while you take a bath?” Harry says softly, running a hand up
and down Louis’s arm.

“What about you?” Louis asks, fumbling his hand down to Harry’s hard cock. Harry groans softly,
but bats his hand away.

“Go,” Harry insists. “I’ll be okay for now.”

“Owe you a blowjob when we get back,” Louis mumbles sleepily, kissing the corner of Harry’s
mouth. Harry ignores the twitch of his cock and huffs out a laugh. It shifts Louis’s slightly sweaty
hair. With a soft pat on Louis’s bum after he’s tucked himself back into his shorts, Harry nods.

“Deal, baby. Now, go relax a bit. Text me when you’re out and I’ll swing by and get you.”

A trip to the store without Louis takes half as long since Harry knows exactly what he wants and
where to find it. Lost in thought, Harry fills up the shopping cart with things from their list. In less
than thirty minutes, he’s loading the groceries in the car and turning around to go pick up his
husband.

He leaves most of the bags on the counters, only putting away the items that are frozen or need to
be refrigerated. By the time he’s done, Louis is shuffling down the hall, looking tired but more
settled, and Harry kisses his temple as he passes him. “Ready?” He asks the sleepy omega. Louis
nods.

Harry is silent in the car ride, both hands firmly on the wheel. He has his thinking face on, and
Louis doesn’t want to interrupt. The crease between his brows and the way his jaw twitches every
few moments tells Louis that he’s really far into his own head. Reaching a hand out, Louis flips his
palm up for Harry to take. Either he ignores it, or doesn’t notice, so Louis nudges him softly.

“Hazza,” He whispers, wiggling his fingers to catch his mate’s attention. Harry looks over and
easily laces their fingers together, but after a quick squeeze, he turns his attention back on the road,
frown still etched on his face.

At the doctor’s office, they get called back quickly. When Dr. Griffin walks in, Louis pouts.

“Sorry we’re a bit late,” Louis says. “We, uh, got caught up at the grocery store.”

“No problem, love. Now, I have one question for the happy parents,” Dr. Griffin says with a sly
smile. “Would you like to know the sex?”

“No,” Harry says, at the same time that Louis says, “Yes.”

They exchange a charged look, and Dr. Griffin looks between them.

“No rush,” She mediates. “You can always talk it over at home and we can look at your next
appointment.” They nod, and Dr. Griffin wipes the gel off Louis’s stomach so he can pull his shirt
down again.

“No worries, dears,” The woman says with a smile. Then, somehow, the smile grows even wider.
“Last week of the first trimester! Louis, Harry, how are we feeling?”

“A bit itchy and warm, but I’ve been wearing soft shirts or nothing when it gets too bad.” Harry is
quiet, and Louis looks over to him to see that same frown as earlier. A bit concerned, Louis frowns
back at him. He’s about to ask him if he’s alright when he opens his mouth.

“Today is the same point in the pregnancy where we lost the last one,” Harry says, voice
emotionless and flat. It’s so abrupt that Louis reels back, shocked his mate said that. Harry also
seems shocked about his words, and his gaze snaps to the devastated look on Louis’s face just
before his own turns apologetic. “Sorry,” He says, eyes wide and pleading. His eyes flick over
Louis’s face as he tries to school it into an even expression. “Shit, I, um. Sorry, continue.”

Once recovered from that announcement, the appointment itself goes by without a hitch. They get
to hear the heartbeat, now loud and strong in the room. It eases Louis’s mind after Harry’s
shocking revelation. Beside him, his mate has dropped his gaze to the ground and only looks up
when he hears the quick, rhythmic thump thump thump of the heartbeat. The tiniest smile ghosts
across his face before he looks back down at his clasped hands.

Upon their return home, Louis allows Harry the space he so obviously needs, and strips off his
shirt before settling onto the couch. Harry comes back about an hour later reeking of sweat. He
stops at the couch only to drop a kiss to the top of Louis’s head and announces that he’s going to
shower.

When he comes back down, skin warm and smelling like pure alpha, Louis cuddles into his side
and noses as his neck.

“What’s going on, Hazza?” Louis asks. Harry is quiet for a long while, but Louis waits patiently.

“I-I, um,”Harry clears his throat when his voice comes out scratchy. “I’ll tell you, I will , but I
don’t think I’m ready to talk about it yet.” It’s nearly a whisper, and there’s so much emotion in his
voice that Louis nearly cries.

“Whenever you’re ready, love,” Louis says. “I love you.” Harry hugs Louis so tightly he fears he
may pee his pants. After a soft sigh, though, Harry eases the hold, and tucks his face into Louis’s
neck.

“I love you, too, Lou - so much.”

A couple days later, on the last official day of the first trimester, Louis convinces Harry to call their
families. It’s a somber affair, with tears shed on Louis’s part, and soft, hesitant congratulations
given to the couple, but a weight seems to lift off Louis’s chest when he’s able to tell them they’re
through the first trimester. Somehow, it feels more real this time.

***

November 2021

Weak, November light filters through the windows when Louis walks into the room. There’s a pout
on his face that Harry immediately takes note of. From where he’s sprawled out on the couch,
Harry holds out his arm for Louis to take. There’s a hint of a smile on his face as Harry pulls him
forward, between the ‘v’ of his thighs.

“What’s got you pouting, lovely?” Harry asks, running light, teasing fingers up the subtle fuzz on
Louis’s upper thighs. The older man squirms with a quiet huff and holds out his left hand.

“My fingers are too fat,” Louis pouts down at Harry. “Can’t get my ring on.”

“Got an easy fix for that, Lou,” Harry says. As he stands to fetch what he needs, he presses a kiss to
Louis’s warm cheek. He shuffles down the hall for a few seconds, and Louis can hear the sounds
of him rifling through drawers in their bathroom before he comes back with a simple - yet elegant -
chain. Harry inserts the chain through the ring he also brings back and holds it out with a flourish
to Louis. “Ta da!” He says with a bright grin on his face.

“Put it on for me?” Louis asks. Harry urges the shorter omega to spin, and raises his arms over
Louis shoulders to wrap the chain around his throat. He secures it and, after dropping a few kisses
to the skin of his omega’s neck, Harry urges Louis back into the circle of his arms.

“Love you,” Harry murmurs into Louis’s ear. His breath makes Louis’s fringe flutter, and he tucks
a smirk into Louis’s neck when his mate shivers.

“Love you, too, Haz.”

It’s the middle of a nice, leisure weekend, and Louis wants nothing more than to curl up on the
couch with Harry and let him scent him, but the alpha has other plans.

“C’mon, love,” Harry says with a pat to his bum. “We need to do some laundry so I have clothes to
wear to work tomorrow.”

Louis drags his feet down the hall after Harry. When he finally makes it to the bedroom, Harry is
already sorting their clothes: colors, darks, and delicates. Louis eases himself down to the floor and
he tries (he really does) to seem like he’s helping. Everytime Harry sets a piece of his clothing into
the basket to be washed, Louis pulls it out and fiddles with it before setting it back down on the
floor next to him.

Harry notices, but doesn’t say anything. When he’s got all the delicates sorted out to wash, Harry
stands to his feet. He holds both hands out for Louis to grab onto so he can help haul him to his
feet, and Louis huffs out a breath when he’s standing again, hand on his small tummy. His mate
bends down to get the clothes he’d pulled out of the basket and sets them on top of the others
before he moves out of the room and down the hall.

Wordless, Louis follows. Harry is already exiting the laundry room by the time he gets there, steps
small and slow. When he comes back from the living room with their favorite throw blanket slung
over his shoulder, Louis can’t stop his fingers from curling into the fabric and pulling it up to his
face.

Inhaling deeply, Louis feels settled, and he flushes a light shade of pink when he sees Harry’s
curious stare. Louis lets go of the blanket and shrugs sheepishly, but lets his mate walk past him.
It’s only when Harry makes a move to throw the blanket into the washer that Louis’s body moves
by itself.

Louis catches the blanket in the air and saves it from the machine, pulling it up to his face and
scenting it softly. He hums low in his throat, and feels the beginnings of a purr rumble in his chest
just as Harry frowns at him with the goofy frog face of his.

“C’mon, love,” Harry says, voice laced with confusion. “The blanket is gross; it needs to be
washed.” He tries to take it from his mate, but Louis’s eyes widen.

“No!” He exclaims as he pulls it to his chest for safe keeping. “This would be perfect in our nest.”

They both pause. Louis, always so quick, immediately lets go of the blanket and flees down the
hall. Harry quickly starts the washer and trails after his mate, nose twitching as he tracks the small
omega to their bedroom.

“Lou?” Harry calls softly. His mate is hidden under the duvet on their bed, and he can’t help the
fond eye roll that it pulls out of him. “Omega, do you want to build a nest?” The softness in his
voice catches Louis’s attention, and he folds down a corner of the blanket so he can peek over them
at Harry. A quick, wordless nod comes in an answer to his question, and he smiles. “Okay, baby.
Let’s make a nest.”

So, they do. It’s a beautiful nest, even better than the last one in Louis’s opinion. While Louis
works on scenting a few shirts of his, Harry pulls out the nesting blankets and creates the wide,
circular base of their nest. When he’s finished that, Louis moves closer with his own articles. He
sniffs each one and places it in the perfect spot, adjusting minutelly as he goes.

From start to finish, it takes a couple hours, but it’s well worth the bubble of pride that sits in
Louis’s chest when he stands at the foot of the bed and admires his and Harry’s handiwork.

“Beautiful,” Harry murmurs against his ear. Louis smiles, nodding along. “The nest looks good,
too.” With a chuckle and a fond eye roll, Louis bumps his hip against Harry’s and looks up at him
with a silent question. “Of course we can cuddle; get in your pretty nest, baby.”

“Our nest,” Louis corrects as he climbs carefully into the artful mess of blankets, shirts, socks, and
bandanas. There are a few sweaters around the top of the nest, and they welcome Louis’s face as
he presses his nose into the soft fabric.

“Omega,” Harry says, and it feels like so much more than just a word when he says it. “May I join
you in this beautiful nest?” Once he’s given permission, Harry crawls up the bed and into the nest
with his mate. He crawls up Louis’s body until he reaches his mouth and presses a firm kiss to his
lips. It takes a bit of squirming to get into a good position with the nest and his mate, but Harry
curls an arm over Louis and brings his hand up to toy with the wedding band around his neck.

The day quickly passes them by, but they don’t leave the nest until Louis’s belly breaks the
comfortable silence with a loud, angry growl. Even then, Harry convinces Louis to stay in the nest
while he makes them some lunch. It isn’t until Louis needs the loo that he gets out of the nest, but
it’s only for a moment. He’s back, curled up next to Harry before it’s lost its warmth from his body,
and they lay there, together, until night comes.

***

January 2022

A couple weeks after Louis’s 30th birthday, Harry’s job hosts an end-of-term/holiday party to
celebrate everyone’s hard work. Now quite obviously swollen, Louis dresses in a loose-fitting,
lavender jumper and manages to squeeze in some black maternity skinny jeans that he knows
Harry will have to help him take off later.

With his raging hormones and sensitive body, Louis’s been half-hard for most of the night. Even
now, as he sips his third virgin Shirley Temple, he feels the bubbling of arousal in his gut, but
Harry is nowhere to be found. When Louis had gone to the bar for another drink, Harry had
mentioned finding a coworker.

“Well, hello,” An unfamiliar voice says, too close to his ear for his liking. He turns with a frown to
see a tall, well-muscled man. Tattoos litter his exposed arms, and there are even a few on the backs
of his hands.

“Hi,” Louis greets, cheerful.

“Liam,” The man introduces himself with a hand outstretched. “Are you a new hire? I would’ve
remembered a face like yours.” Louis flushes and instinctively glances around for his mate. He
comes up empty, and decides that a pleasant conversation would be the perfect distraction.

Turns out, that’s exactly what it becomes. Liam is charming and funny and blatantly flirting. Louis
has let it go on long enough that he feels weird interrupting the alpha to tell him that he is, in fact,
mated. Instead, he nods at what Liam says and tries to subtly scan the room for his husband.

When he finally spots him (well after Liam has given Louis his entire life story including showing
pictures of his dog and two nieces) Louis knows he’s in deep shit. The dark, predatory look in
Harry’s eyes jolts Louis into awareness. Suddenly, he’s hyper aware of the space - or lack thereof -
between him and Liam. The alpha’s arm brushes against his every few words, and Liam places a
hand on his shoulder when he leans forward to grab Louis’s new drink for him.

The final straw seems to be Liam resting a hand on Louis’s hip. Harry is stalking closer even
before Louis can shake off the foreign, unfamiliar touch. Out of habit, Louis rests a hand over his
bump protectively, and he sees the moment Liam notices.

“Oh, shit, um,” Liam stutters out, face flaming and looking apologetic. He doesn’t manage
anymore words before Harry is there, hand resting on Louis’s lower back.

“Lou,” Harry greets, voice low. “Ready to go.” It’s worded like a question, and there’s a slight lilt
to his voice that says we can stay if you really want to , but Louis nods his agreement.

“Good to meet you Liam,” Louis says as his mate takes his hand and leads him towards the door.

The car ride is completely silent, and Louis fidgets with his fingers as he waits for what he knows
Harry wants to say. His hands squeeze the steering wheel tightly, but he keeps his mouth in a thin
line until they’re in their driveway.

“Hungry?” He asks. It’s not what Louis expected, but he isn’t surprised that, even after a night like
tonight, all Harry wants to do is take care of him.

“No,” Louis breathes. He’ll probably need a snack before they go to bed, but he can wait until then.
Harry hums, and they walk into the house together before changing into some lounge clothes.
Louis forgoes a shirt, opting for some worn sweats that have seen better days.

Fussing over something in the kitchen while Harry flips through shows on a low volume, Louis
can’t help but feel wound up. His hands tremble when he tries to load a few dishes in the
dishwasher, and he gives up before he drops one.

Moving into the living room where Harry is, Louis hovers at the door for a moment.

“Cuddle?” Louis asks, light and nervous. Harry just nods and lifts an arm, not taking his eyes off
the telly. Despite the lack of response, Louis scampers over and folds himself up under his alpha’s
arm, angling his body into Harry’s. At the first wrinkle of Harry’s nose, Louis knows exactly what
the problem is, and his brain forms a plan to get him what he wants.

As if the plan were already in motion, Louis’s prick begins to chub up in his shorts. He squirms a
bit, and looks up at Harry questioningly.

“You smell like him,” Harry says. His voice rumbles in his chest, nearly a growl, and Louis
shivers. He can feel the slick gathering, and he knows Harry will smell it soon, so he shoves his
hands between his thighs and crosses his legs.

“Was just an innocent touch, love,” Louis says calmly. “Didn’t mean anything.”

“You’re mine, and you smell like him,” Harry says again.

“Then make me smell like you,” Louis breathes, mouth parted and eyes hooded. When Harry looks
at him, his eyes narrow.

“That what you wanted, baby?” Harry asks, catching on to his little game. He runs his eyes up and
down Louis’s body, watching the way the smaller man squirms. “Wanted to get me riled up so I
brought you home and made you mine?”

“Please, Haz,” Louis begs.

“What do you want, Lou, hm? What did you have in mind?” If his head were clearer, he would’ve
caught onto the fact that Harry’s voice had lost its teasing edge.

“Want you in me,” Louis moans. “Please, H. Need you.”

“Maybe you should ask Liam instead, since you seemed so interested in what he had to say at the
party.”

Louis lets out a little whine, rocking his hips against the couch.

“Nooo,” Louis says. “Want you. Need you, please.”

“Did you want me to see, Lou?” Harry asks. “Bet you wanted me to watch you fawn over another
alpha so I’d bring you home and show you what you’re missing, but I don’t think you deserve it.
No, you don’t get a reward for leading someone on.”

“Alpha, please,” Louis begs. The title pulls a low groan from Harry, and he tugs Louis into his lap.
The smaller man scrambles to straddle Harry’s thighs, and shivers under Harry’s touch when his
mate trails a hand up and down his bare sides.

Urging Louis off his lap to stand for a moment, Harry makes quick work of his shorts, pulling them
down and off his legs before he does the same thing with his pants. Louis is stark naked, bump
protruding from his slender frame. Unable to stop from admiring himself, Louis glances down in
awe, eyes as round as his stomach. He’s grown so much bigger in just a few days, and everytime
Louis notices a change, he can’t help but feel a little more excited about it.

Harry urges Louis back onto his lap, either unaware or indifferent about the slick now staining his
joggers. Chest to chest with his mate, Harry worms a hand behind Louis to tease at his entrance.

“So wet, baby,” Harry praises, tapping on the rim lightly. “This all for me?”

“Yeah, Haz,” Louis pants. He squirms on Harry’s lap, shifting closer to his mate while he aches to
press back into his fingers. “Just for you.”

He sits as still as he can while Harry toys with his rim, circling with two fingers until Louis is
trembling. Precome leaks from his slit, smearing onto his stomach and Harry’s shirt as he rolls his
hips forward. Louis convinces Harry to pull his shirt off and moans at the hot friction against his
nipples when he arches his back into Harry’s bare chest.

At the first hint of pressure against his entrance, Louis keens. Harry wiggles inside of him and sets
a nice, leisurely pace. It alights Louis’s bones with a bright, overwhelming feeling, and he
scrabbles against Harry, clinging to his shoulders to ground himself.

“Harry,” Louis whines airily. A second finger is tucked up against the first one, and Louis
welcomes the stretch. The pace is achingly slow, but the omega can still feel the warmth building.
“C’mon, Haz. ‘Nother, please.”
Harry gives him what he wants, slipping in a third finger. This time however, he buries them to the
knuckle, and stops. Louis is trembling, so close to the edge, but Harry isn’t doing anything. Louis
rocks his hips, and it sends zings of pleasure throughout his body. His breath catches, and it’s too
much; he has to stop before he comes.

He slumps forward ino Harry, boneless and ready to simply take what Harry gives him. Like that
was what he was waiting for, Harry’s fingers begin stroking softly at his insides. Louis’s rim
flutters around the base of his fingers when he begins to rock his hand lightly. Against his stomach,
Harry feels Louis’s cock twitch, and he smirks into the omega’s neck.

A small hand brushes against the bulge in his own pants and he hisses. Fumbling with the tight
waistband, Louis tries and fails to get his cock out. It snaps back against his waist with a sharp pop
, and Louis breathes out an apology before he tries again. When he finally gets a hand into Harry’s
joggers, he’s rock hard and leaking.

As a reward for how good Louis is making him feel, Harry angles his wrist in a particular way and,
when he pushes them up against that spot, Louis nearly howls. Harry bites down on Louis’s
shoulder, muffling a grunt that is pulled from his throat when Louis twists his wrist just right.

“Harry!” Louis groans, body moving away from the feeling only to drop back down into his fingers
firmly. He rides Harry’s fingers as he continues his sloppy handjob, getting more and more
desperate as his orgasm hurtles closer. When the first tear slips down Louis’s cheek, Harry doubles
his efforts and fucks up into Louis firmly, pausing every few thrusts to rub against his prostate.

Louis chokes on a sob as his orgasm crashes over him, going boneless after riding it out. Harry slips
his fingers out and wraps the slick-coated digits around his cock. The head is a bright purple,
aching for touch. He tugs roughly, groaning, until his orgasm is just on the edge. With his left
hand, he circles his thumb and index finger around the slightly swollen knot at the base of his cock.
Tucking his face back into Louis neck, he bites teasingly at the soft skin. The pressure of his hand
and the scent of Louis filling his nose is enough to send him over. He comes into his hand with a
deep grunt, some of it landing on Louis’s quivering thighs that bracket his hips.

His knot deflates quickly without the pressure of Louis’s rim around it, and he stands them both up
on shaky legs to take them to the shower. They lay in their nest once they’re clean, Harry running
his fingers through Louis’s quick-drying fringe.

His mind wanders, eyes drifting down to Louis’s exposed bump as Louis dozes. With only a pair of
Harry’s pants on, the bump isn’t subtle. At twenty-two weeks, Harry remembers the baby is the
size of a small squash, or an avocado. They’ll soon be able to hear and discriminate voices, and
while Harry should be feeling overjoyed by the fact that he’ll be able to talk to his baby, he’s
struck with a wave of anxiety. Suddenly nauseous, Harry sits up and extracts himself from the nest,
padding down the hall.

The feeling eases after a while of sitting upright on the couch, and Harry joins Louis in bed, well
after midnight.

***

When Louis wakes up the next morning, he’s shocked that Harry is not only still in bed beside him,
but is still snoring. It’s nearing nine, and Harry isn’t one to sleep the day away, even if it is a
weekend, but he must need it. Carefully, Louis untangles his body from Harry’s octopus limbs and
pads down the hall to use the guest bathroom so as not to disturb Harry.

There’s a chill in the air that Louis attributes to the weather. Despite typically leaving his torso
bare all day, Louis shrugs on Harry’s discarded shirt from last night. It rests just below his hips
from how large his bump has gotten, and Louis carefully folds the waistband of Harry’s pants
under his bump to caress the tight, warm skin.

Nearly an hour later, he’s restless and missing his mate despite knowing the alpha is just down the
hall. He tries to hold off as long as he can, but pregnancy is making him clingy. In the doorway, he
frowns at the sight he finds.

Harry is wide awake, laying on his back on the floor. His blank eyes are fixed on the ceiling, and
Louis can hear faint music spilling from the headphones in his ears. With exaggerated groans that
would normally pull at least a smile from Harry (but now gets nothing more than a long, slow
blink) Louis settles down beside him. Louis lays his head on Harry’s chest and plucks an earbud
from his ear before pressing it into his own.

A voice croons in his ear, full of pain and an unknown emotion, and Louis smiles softly at his mate
as he listens - The bad days . It continues into a haunting Ohhhh before the man’s voice raises
without any background music to belt - And hold on strong, And don't let go. We'll carry on, I
know we can find a way .

Louis recognizes the end of the song, and stays quiet until the notes fade out. However, he frowns
when the familiar riff begins again. The repeated song plays in Louis’s ear, and he knows before
he hears it start up a third time that Harry’s got the song on repeat.

Softly, carefully, Louis sits up and pulls the earbuds out of both of their ears. Harry looks so small
on the floor like this, even though his feet reach nearly to the bed. He seems lost, and all Louis
wants to do is get him back.

“Hazza, what’s wrong?” Louis whispers, placing a hand on Harry’s torso. He waits for a long time
before Harry finds his voice. The air conditioning kicks off, and all Louis can hear is the younger
man’s breath. He can see and feel the rise and fall of Harry’s chest under his palm, but at the same
time, his mate feels so far away from him.

“I’m stuck in a constant state of waiting.” Harry’s voice is rough, and he sounds detached. His
voice is void of emotion like he’s speaking of something or someone far away, but Louis knows
better. Louis can hear the strain that he gets in his throat when he’s trying not to cry. Expecting
some explanation, Louis stays quiet, but the silence grows until it’s been a couple minutes, and
then Louis has to ask, “Waiting for what?”

“Waiting to lose this one, too.” Louis’s breath catches in his throat, and he swallows back a wave
of emotion as Harry continues. “I can’t catch my breath, and it’s like…every time you call out for
me, or I catch you by surprise, I go back to that day. I feel so helpless, weak .” The word is full of
venom, and he spits it out like a curse. “I know what the odds are now that you’re further along,
but I can’t stop thinking about finding you in that bathroom, Lou. I’m sorry I haven’t been the best
mate during all this; I’ve been trying not to get attached in case we have another miscarriage, but I
can’t. Oh, god, I love them so much already, and if we lose this one, too, I don’t think I’ll be able
to -” Harry cuts himself off with a sharp gasp, eyes wide when he realizes what he was going to
say.

For the first time in three years, it isn’t Louis who breaks down. For the first time since the
miscarriage, it isn’t Louis who is sobbing uncontrollably.
A single tear drips down to the floor from the corner of Harry’s eyes, and it’s like that breaks the
carefully-constructed dam. Harry’s hands come up to his face, and he sniffs into his palms. At first,
he cries. Harry cries for Regan; he cries for Louis, but mostly he cries for himself. He cries for the
life they created that they never got to meet. Harry cries until his hiccups turn into sobs, and Louis
has to sit him up so he doesn’t choke on his breath. His grief ricochets off the walls, bounces
around the room only to land back on the alpha.

Through all this, Louis holds him. With Harry settled between his knees, Louis holds the larger
man against his chest and hums softly, the song from earlier still on replay in his head. He cards
his small fingers through Harry’s dull, greasy hair, and frowns. His mate has been going through
hell, and Louis has been so absorbed in finally being pregnant again that he’s neglected his mate.
Tears well up in his own eyes, but he blinks them away.

He manages to get Harry on his feet and lead his still-sniffling mate back into their nest. He
cuddles up against Harry’s back and tries to put every single good thought he’s ever experienced
into his emotions as he floods the room with his pheromones.

After a while, Harry gets control of his breathing. His hiccups turn to light sniffles for a few
moments before he falls quiet.

When Harry shifts, Louis whines, thinking he’s getting up.

“Not going anywhere, omega,” Harry hushes him. His voice is nearly hoarse from the force of his
sobs, but Louis relaxes into the nest as Harry urges him to roll onto his back.

Harry noses his way into Louis’s neck, kissing him softly a few times before he runs his lips down
the smaller boy’s neck. It elicits a shiver, and Harry can’t stop the smirk pulling at his lips as he
continues working his way down.

At the collar of the shirt - his shirt, Harry’s brain helpfully supplies - Harry kisses once, twice, and
then begins to suck lightly. Louis breathes heavily in response.

“Off,” Harry says, tugging at the hem of the shirt. As much as Harry loves seeing Louis in his
clothes, he needs to really see his mate right now. Louis throws the shirt onto the floor once he gets
it over his head, and Harry returns to the spot he was making on his husband’s neck.

Harry kisses over the mark when he’s satisfied and sits back onto his heels. His mate looks
positively wrecked, face flushed and eyes glassy as he blinks up at him.

“So beautiful,” Harry breathes. He ducks back down and leaves a trail of kisses from his neck,
down to his chest. Louis squirms when Harry’s lips leave a teasing kiss to each sensitive nipple,
biting onto his bottom lip to keep from breaking the silence. “No, omega. Wanna hear you.”

“Harry,” Louis pants. His feet shift, restless, and he turns wide, pleading eyes onto his alpha. “Need
you.”

“Soon, lovely,” Harry promises, sealing it with a kiss over his bondmark. Louis trembles under
him, but he falls unnervingly still as Harry’s kisses continue to move south. He trails reverent
kisses from Louis’s sternum, straight down to the swell of his belly. Louis’s breath hitches as
Harry leans down to press one of the most careful kisses to the skin just below his belly button.

“Haz,” Louis breathes, tears pricking in the corners of his eyes. Harry looks up into his mate’s eyes
and sees all the pain and longing that he’s tried to hide reflected in those glistening blue eyes.
Louis puckers his lips, asking for a kiss that he immediately gives him.
Harry keeps his eyes open until the very last second, letting them flutter shut at the first touch of
Louis’s soft, thin lips against his. Their mouths move together with a familiar ease, and Harry
lowers himself until he’s just barely resting his weight on Louis.

The smaller man’s hands come up to clutch at his sides, and he tilts his hips up to brush his
erection against Harry’s half-hard cock.

“Need you now,” Louis gasps out when he pulls back from the kiss. Harry nods and removes his
shirt and shorts. He hadn’t put on pants the night before, and the cool air on his heated flesh causes
goosebumps to race over his skin. Curling his fingers into the pants he’d gone to sleep in, Harry
inches them down, leaving kisses on each inch of skin he exposes.

He takes his time opening Louis up despite the omega’s protests that he’s still prepped from the
night before. By the time he pushes into Louis, they’re both nearly frantic with the need to feel
each other fully, but it all falls away after the first firm thrust.

“Yeah,” Louis breathes, going boneless. He lays there and whimpers each time Harry’s cock drags
inside him just right, each sound urging the alpha closer and closer. Despite his mate’s pleas, Harry
keeps the pace steady and unrushed. He presses kisses into Louis’s neck, nibbling on the sensitive
skin. “Haz, wanna - I wanna - Can I bite you?” It isn’t unheard of to renew your bonds, especially
as the connection fades over the years. Over the past few weeks, Louis has become achingly aware
of how weak their bond has become, and it’s time to fix that.

“Course you can, love,” Harry says, voice tight. “Gonna feel so good. Want me to bite you, too?”

“Yeah, H, so close. Can. Now,” Louis’s voice turns into a moan when Harry licks over the healed
and faded bond mark on Louis’s chest. Louis does the same to the one on Harry’s neck. He can
feel his knot start to inflate as he takes a deep breath. Just before Louis comes, he nips Harry’s
neck. The alpha shudders at the tease, hips rabbiting forward just as Louis bites again, harder, until
he breaks through the skin.

With a sharp grunt and a low growl, Harry’s knot catches on Louis’s rim. He sinks his teeth into
Louis’s chest and marks his mate for the second time just as his own orgasm washes over him.

Louis feels a rush of anguish and hope and yearning and excitement and he realizes that Harry has
been holding all of this in. As he comes down from his high, he sobs out brokenly. He feels like a
bad mate for not noticing what Harry was going through. Harry whimpers when Louis’s hormones
pummel him with the full-force of his emotions, and he leans down to desperately scent his mate.

“Fuck, Lou,” Harry says, voice rough and thick. He rocks his hips a bit, feeling his knot tug on
Louis’s rim. The smaller boy twitches with a soft whine, and Harry licks at the crying blood on his
chest, cleaning him. Louis returns the favor until they’re both clean and Harry’s knot has deflated.
They lay beside each other, content down to their bones in a way they haven't been for years.

“I love you,” Harry whispers.

“Love you, too, H,” Louis replies, voice drowsy.

The omega falls asleep first, but Harry keeps himself awake, running his palms over the stretched
skin of his mate’s tummy.

“Love you, too, baby,” He whispers against his belly button.

***

February 2022

“ Happy birthday, dear, Daddy, ” Louis’s voice breathes in his ear, and Harry’s eyes flutter open. “
Happy birthday to you .” A smile stretches across Harry’s face when he takes in his mate. The
healing bondmark is still bright red, a stark contrast to his winter-pale skin. His bump is large
enough to keep him up at night, tossing and turning as he tries to get comfortable. The bags under
his eyes can’t take away from how bright his face looks, smiling down at Harry.

“What’s this, baby?” Harry asks. He clears his throat around his sleep-rough voice and sits up,
finding several wrapped presents on the bed, as well as a stack of pancakes, bacon, and -
interestingly enough - a jar of nutella.

“Celebrating the best alpha in the whole world,” Louis says with a fond huff, like he can’t
understand how Harry doesn’t already know.

“Be careful, mommy,” Harry says with a teasing smile. “What if Baby turns out to be an alpha?”

“Then I guess you’ll have to settle for being second best,” Louis smirks, but it turns into desperate
cackles as Harry’s fingers tickle his sides. “No, uncle! I give up! Stop, I’m gonna pee!”

“Okay, okay,” Harry settles. “Gonna give me a birthday kiss?” Louis nods happily, settling himself
on his mate’s lap for a slow, lingering kiss. The omega’s stomach flutters, and he braces himself
for a wave of nausea that doesn’t come. He sighs in relief and presses one more kiss to Harry’s lips
before he hauls himself up.

“Wanna open some presents, birthday boy?” Louis asks.

“I’d love to,” Harry says with a smile. “Unless you’d rather eat first.”

Louis shakes his head. “Don’t wanna wait.”

Harry gets a new book, a pair of black-framed reading glasses, and a pair of socks that say Sorry, I
can't right now. I’m working on my dad jokes that he chuckles at. There’s one last present. Harry
can already tell that Louis is a tad nervous about this one, and Harry vows to love it. His mate
places the present, a gift bag this time, in Harry’s lap and nibbles on his lower lip as he waits for
Harry to open it.

The tissue paper is thrown around the room, and it drifts to the floor as Harry pulls out the tiniest
baby onesie he’s ever seen. Even before he can turn it around and read what’s printed on it, his
eyes fill with tears.

“They’re gonna be this small?” Harry asks, voice breaking with the emotion.

“Smaller when they’re newborns, but yeah,” Louis breathes. “Did you read it?”

“No, gosh, sorry,” Harry swipes at his eyes and blinks to clear his vision. It’s a pale yellow color,
and it’s so soft that Harry already knows it’ll most likely end up in the nest at some point before
the baby comes.

When he reads the words, though, the tears come back full force and he sobs out a soft Oh, but he’s
smiling.
Handpicked for Earth by my sister in Heaven , the cute onesie reads. The text is separated by a
halo and a pair of angel wings, and Harry falls even more in love with his mate.

“Oh, I love it,” Harry says.

“Really?” Louis’s voice is small, but hopeful, and Harry nods so vigorously that a few extra tears
escape. “Is it okay? That I want them to know about Regan?”

“Absolutely,” Harry says. He pulls Louis closer and kisses him. “This was the best birthday ever.”

Louis’s been on the edge of his seat all day. The flutters in his stomach that he attributed to
excitement and nerves on Harry’s birthday never went away. Now, two weeks later, as the flutter
catches his attention, he tries to breathe through it. He’s been expecting nausea to follow, but is
thankful that he hasn’t been sick yet.

He’s resting at home while Harry is at work, trying to breathe through or ignore the little flutters.
Humming under his breath to the theme song of a show that’s starting, Louis nearly jumps to his
feet when he feels his stomach jolt. Frozen, and panicking a bit, Louis holds his arms up and away
from his belly, praying desperately, fuck, no. Please, no; not again .

The jolt comes again a few seconds later, and Louis chokes on a sob. He cradles his bump with
shaking fingers and tries to stand up. Two more jolts come a few seconds apart, while Louis is
stumbling down the hall. His breathing is uneven, and he can barely see where he’s going. Relying
more on touch, he fumbles his way into the bathroom. He spares half a second to think I’ll never
be able to step foot in this bathroom again , and then he pulls down his pants.

There’s no blood.

The rush of relief is abruptly crushed when the jolt comes again. In his delirium, he has no idea
where he’s left his phone, and it takes him nearly five minutes to find it on the bedside table. His
fingers fumble to dial Harry’s, but he’s shaking too much. As if sensing his distress, Harry’s name
flashes on his screen. He swipes to answer the call but, as he holds his phone up to his ear,
everything stops. There’s no more jolts, no more movement, and he chokes on a sob right as Harry
says, “Lou?”

“Harry,” Louis wails. “Need to - I can’t. Gotta,” He hiccups. “Here.”

“You’re not making any sense, love,” Harry says calmly. “Is there something wrong? Just say yes
or no.”

“Yeah,” Louis chokes. He sinks down into their nest and whimpers softly.

“Are you hurt?”

“No.”

“Is it…” Harry takes a deep, steadying breath, but Louis can still hear his voice crack. “Is it the
baby?”

“ Yes .”
Harry breaks every traffic law that is in effect - even breaks a few that haven’t been thought of
before - as he careens down the streets towards his mate. He’d known something was wrong as
soon as the first wave of anguish hit him through their bond. Having excused himself from a
meeting to call Louis, Harry’s heart nearly shattered when the omega picked up the phone. He'd
been naïve to think that everything would be okay this time around. He shouldn’t have gotten his
hopes up.

When he pulls up in front of their house, he barely shifts the car into park before he’s running up to
the front door. The car is still running, and his door is still open, but Harry is focused solely on the
mantra of Get to Louis. Find Louis. Help Louis.

Throwing the door open, Harry takes a deep breath. He finds a recent trail of Louis’s scent and
follows it down the hall to the bedroom. It’s empty when he cautiously walks in the door, but
Louis’s scent is still strong, so he pads forward to the bathroom.

The hinges creak, reminiscent of a scene in a horror movie right before someone is killed. How
ironic that Harry also feels like he’s dying.

Louis is curled up on the bathmat. He’s curled in a small ball, and his hands are petting carefully
over his bump. He’s speaking softly, hiccupping every few seconds, to the bump. Harry drops to
his knees beside his omega.

“Louis, ba- um, darling,” Harry cuts himself off, just in case. “Can you tell me what happened?”

“Felt like I got hit by something,” Louis says. His voice is dull, and Harry cranes his neck to see
his eyes: glassy. This isn’t good. With how unfocused he is, Harry fears he’ll drop.

“What do you mean, love?”

“I felt something,” Louis says. “Something happened to make the baby move, and then it just…
stopped.”

“Have you felt anything else? Was there blood? Cramping?”

“No blood.”

“Cramps?”

“I don’t know.”

“Should we go to the doctor? We’re going in two days for the 24-week ultrasound, but we could go
today if you need to.” Louis nods miserably and stands when Harry urges him. He bundles the
small man into the still-running car and speeds off.

Without an appointment, Harry isn’t sure when or if they’ll be seen, but surely they wouldn’t turn
away an omega potentially going through a second miscarriage, right?

“Wanna go sit and wait for me to check us in?” Harry asks softly.

“Wanna stay with you,” Louis whispers. His hand comes up to wrap lightly around his bicep, and
Harry nods.

They get checked in with little fuss, and get told that Dr. Griffin will see them as soon as possible.
Luckily, they’re not waiting for more than twenty minutes before a familiar - now somber - face
calls them back.
“I’ve already been filled in,” Dr. Griffin says respectfully. “Louis, go ahead and take a seat. We’ll
do an ultrasound right away to see what’s going on.”

Louis follows the directions numbly, taking a seat on the reclined chair and holding his shirt up.
When Dr. Griffin angles the screen towards them so they can see, Louis looks away. Running his
palm down Louis’s arm, Harry worms his hand into Louis’s and laces their fingers together. He
gives a comforting squeeze right as Dr. Griffin spreads the gel over Louis’s stomach.

“Okay,” Dr. Griffin hums to herself. “Let’s see what’s going on.”

She angles her wand this way and that, swiping it all over Louis’s belly. Suddenly, Louis lets out a
loud, startled gasp, and begins crying anew.

“That’s it,” He says. “That’s what I kept feeling.” Harry feels useless, and he looks around,
stricken, until Dr. Griffin smiles .

“Louis, darling,” Dr. Griffin says. “Nothing is wrong. Listen.” Probably sensing how inconsolable
Louis is, she flips a switch on the machine and instantly, a strong, steady heartbeat fills the room.
Louis quiets almost instantly, turning his head to look at the monitor with wide eyes.

“Nothing is wrong?” He whispers.

“You’re feeling your baby,” Dr. Griffin says softly.

“It’s moving?”

“Not exactly,” Dr. Griffin smiles again. “Your baby has the hiccups.”

Louis lets out a watery chuckle, staring down at his belly as it jolts slightly, every few seconds.

“Now, kicks may feel a bit similar,” Dr. Griffin says. She takes the wand away, and the room falls
silent. Harry misses the sound already. “But you’ll know the difference when you feel the rhythm.
Hiccups are regular, almost predictable. Kicks, however, could be constant or very irregular.”

“But it’s okay?” Harry clarifies, just needing to hear it one more time. “The baby is okay?”

“Your baby is developing right on schedule. Heartbeat sounds great,” Dr. Griffin reports. “I’d say,
as long as you keep doing what you’re doing, everything should be just fine.”

“Thank you,” Louis says. “I don’t think I could’ve waited until our appointment.”

“Speaking of, we can go ahead and do the appointment now if you’d like,” Dr. Griffin offers. “Two
days won’t make that much difference.” After a brief glance exchanged, Harry and Louis both nod.

“Today is fine,” Harry says. “Saves up a trip.”

“Well, there are two very important things we need to discuss. The first is viability. You’re not
completely out of the woods, and you still need to keep up with your healthy diet and mild exercise,
but viability is good.”

“Basically, viability means the likelihood of your baby living if you were to deliver right now.
After 24 weeks, viability is fairly high, and the odds for survival are nearly fifty percent.” Harry
frowns.

“That’s not a good percentage at all,” He points out. Dr. Griffin goes on to explain that while that's
a seemingly low percentage, each additional week counts. Week twenty-five holds a sixty to
seventy percent change for viability, and, at week twenty-six, that jumps all the way to eighty-five
percent!

“The point is,” She concludes, “Is that each week that we can keep this baby cooking increases its
likelihood of surviving, even if you were to go into preterm labor.”

“Okay,” Louis says. Harry nods.

“Now, the second thing we need to discuss is sex. Have we decided if we want to know?”

It had been a tough conversation, one that Harry subconsciously was avoiding until the
conversation he had with Louis about expecting to lose this one. He’d never wanted to feel any
attachment to the baby (even though, as the father, he hardly has a choice). Knowing the sex would
be one more thing he’d lose if they miscarried, but after a conversation with Louis, and how much
uncertainty and fear they’ve already had surrounding this pregnancy, they’re both on the same
page.

“We want to know.” Harry says firmly. Louis nods.

***

March 2022

Louis bounces his knee as he waits for the Skype call to connect. Just as he hears the sound that
signals their families have picked up, a warm hand folds over his thigh, settling him.

“It’ll be fine,” Harry whispers. “They’ll be happy for us.”

They chatter over each other for a while before everyone notices how uncharacteristically quiet
Louis is.

“What’s wrong, boo?” Jay asks softly. Louis and Harry glance at each other and, with a nod, pull
their respective items from behind their backs. In Louis’s hand is the ultrasound from a week ago,
and Harry holds a onesie up. There are gasps from both ends, just as Harry and Louis shout,
ecstatically,

“It’s a boy!”

***

“Harry, c’mere!” Louis calls. “Not an emergency!”

With a chuckle, Harry drags himself off the bed and moseys his way down the hall. He finds Louis
sitting at the table with a poorly-concealed grin on his face. There’s a cardboard box in front of
him, one that looks to have been just delivered, and he pushes it over to Harry as he settles in a
chair.

“This is a late - really late - birthday present, but I saw the idea like a day before your birthday and
thought you’d love it, so I ordered it.”

Harry lifts the box up to his ear and goes to shake it, playing along with the suspense, but is
stopped by Louis’s frantic squawk of, “It’s fragile!”

“Okay,”

“Okay.” Louis huffs out a breath, and he smiles shakily at Harry. “I’m more nervous than I thought
I’d be.”

“Why, love?”

“So, I know how hard you took it when we lost Regan, and I know you had some guilt, feeling like
you couldn’t do anything, but I want you to know you were the only thing that got me through that.
You are so strong and loving and wonderful. You know that right?”

Emotionally, Harry nods, and Louis continues.

“I found this online. Go ahead,” He urges. “Open it.” Tearing it open carefully, Harry frowns down
at the figurine.

“It’s like your tattoo,” Louis says softly. “Look, the dad has his beak on the chick’s head.”

“I love it, Lou,” Harry says, running his fingers over the glass chick.

“There’s more.” Harry looks up at Louis, confused. “This is a special store, because you can send
the ashes of a loved one and they infuse the ashes into the figurine.”

“Wait,” Harry breathes. “You mean…”

“I sent some of Regan’s ashes to them,” Louis explains. “And asked them to infuse the chick with
ashes, so it’s really her, H.”

Harry places the figurine on the table shakily and moves around to tug Louis up and out of his seat.
The smaller man doesn’t even have time to complain before Harry’s arms wrap around him, and he
engulfs him in the tightest, most emotional hug.

“I love it.” Harry’s voice cracks with tears, and Louis sniffs into his shirt. “Do you want to put it in
our room?”

“I was actually thinking it could go in his room,” Louis says, petting at his belly. “That way, he
knows his sister is always looking out for him.”

“That’s perfect.”

They place the figurine, along with a small, stuffed penguin that will be given to the baby when
he’s old enough, on a shelf far out of reach in the nursery.

The nursery, further down the hall than their bedroom, is coming along. As Louis is nearing the
mid-way point of his seventh month, they’ve taken many precautions. An emergency overnight
bag for each of them, along with a diaper bag with the necessities, sits just beside the door. Harry’s
wrestled the carseat into Louis’s car, and it’s clipped in and ready to hold a baby whenever they
decide to come into the world.

The only thing they’re missing from the nursery is a rocking chair that Jay will bring, and (of
course) the baby.
Over the past month, it seems that they’ve changed mindsets. There is a new light that follows
Harry around. It’s like all the bad feelings about losing Regan have morphed into a blinding
excitement for this baby. Harry has already started talking to him, telling him all about what he did
at work, how his day went, and anything else he can think of. Despite his best efforts, and even
with how excited the baby gets when he hears his daddy’s voice, Harry hasn’t felt a kick yet. As
soon as he puts his hands on Louis’s belly, all movement stops.

Louis’s trying his best, but whenever he While Harry has been working up a storm to get ready for
the baby, Louis has been wandering the house, a hand on his belly, yearning for just one more kick.
When the baby is kicking, Louis knows he’s alive and well, but when he’s still, Louis’s blood runs
cold.

He thinks about viability and the changes of survival. His thoughts race. If I go into labor right
now, what are the chances that my son will live he thinks. What if I lose this one, too? Will it cost
me more than a baby? Will it cost me my mate, too?

Or, in his darkest moments, Louis wonders, am I going to forget her?

The thought pops up as if it were part of some self-deprecating whack-a-mole game. He can’t
control it. Harry already seems so in love with this baby, but Louis feels almost guilty.

***

Louis’s taken to spending a lot of time in the nursery, scenting blankets and clothes and soft toys to
cut through the strong smell of fresh paint. Whenever Harry catches himself wondering where his
omega is, he is often in the nursery.

While they hadn’t started decorating with a particular theme in mind, now that the penguin figurine
and the stuffed penguin are in place, the nursery has turned into a kind of arctic wonderland. Louis
kept finding cute items that fit the theme, and he even found animal wall decals to put up.

After a quick sniff, Harry’s nose is tickled with Louis’s familiar scent. The alpha follows the trail
down the hall, towards the nursery of course. Since they’re still without a chair, Louis has
somehow folded himself down onto the floor. Tsking lightly, Harry pauses in the doorway to watch
his mate. Louis has the stuffed penguin in his arms, petting over the soft fur.

“Lou,” Harry says softly. The omega looks up at him, and his heart seizes in his chest. “Look at
you,” He breathes. He holds out a hand to help steady his omega as he gently eases him to his feet.
After another quiet exhale, Harry brings his hand up to cup Louis’s soft cheek. “Look so beautiful,
Lou. I’m so lucky.”

Louis flushes a dark shade of pink, but Harry just kisses the warm center of his cheeks and takes his
hand. “Dinner is ready,” He tells him.

“What are we having?

“Made some steamed veggies with that seasoning you love, some breaded chicken, and brown
rice.”

“Do we have anything sweet?” Louis asks innocently. “Kinda craving something sweet.”
“If you eat all your veggies and a couple bites of chicken, you can have some Cheerios,” Harry
bargains.

“With extra honey?” Louis asks, batting his eyelashes sweetly. Harry pretends to think it over for a
few moments so he doesn’t immediately cave, even though they both know he will.

“Yes, with some extra honey on it.”

They eat at the table, Harry enjoying the taste of each bite as he scoops it into his mouth. Louis
starts moving his veggies around on his plate before taking a few bites that he screws his face up
at. Harry only rolls his eyes despite the smile threatening to break out onto his face, and nudges the
plate closer to him.

On the couch after they finish eating, Louis curls up into Harry’s side with his bowl of Cheerios
with extra honey, and munches happily. They take showers separately despite the urge to be close
to one another this late in pregnancy, but Harry is exhausted, and even Louis yawns a couple times
while Harry rubs oil onto his stretch marks.

Settling into bed feels heavenly that night, and Harry coaxes Louis closer for some cuddles until
they get sleepy. Louis, having found that sleeping on his back makes him uncomfortable, has taken
to curling up around Harry, acting as the big spoon. In this position, he gets to stay close to Harry,
but can come and go freely as he needs to pee throughout the night. Also, without Harry’s octopus
limbs around him, he doesn’t wake up as sweaty as he normally does.

In the middle of the night, Harry is awoken. He rubs his face blearily and flops his arm out,
checking on his mate. He isn’t concerned when he finds the omega gone, but as he listens for the
telltale sound of a toilet flushing, he’s met only with silence.

Louis’s scent is stale, meaning he hasn’t been here for several hours. With a frown, Harry stands
up.

The still house is reminiscent of the time he’d found Louis searching for mold, and a shiver races
down his arms. Wrapping them around his torso, Harry goes instinctively to the nursery, and he
finds his mate.

He’s on the floor as usual, but it’s obvious he’s crying. Instead of his usual upright and alert self,
Louis is curled up with his back to the door, waves of distress rolling off of him, and it’s then that
Harry remembers what woke him up.

He cups a hand over his bond mark, red and painful with his mate’s distress, and he whines.

“Lou,” Harry says sadly. “Lou, what’s wrong, baby?” He steps into the room when Louis doesn’t
respond. The only thing he wants is to be next to his mate, so he lays down behind the small
omega and wraps his arms around him.

His fingers brush over something soft, and he cranes his neck to see past Louis’s bony shoulder.

It’s the penguin.

Harry runs his fingers over the stuffed penguin in Louis’s arms and tries to take it, but Louis
resists.

“Don’t take her,” Louis sobs, voice raw and thick. The words seem to break the control Louis had,
and he begins sobbing anew. Harry, unsure of what’s going on and now feeling like he’s the reason
his mate is crying again, doesn’t know what to do.

“Lou c’mon, love,” Harry tries, voice calm. “Talk to me.”

Louis tries. He tries to say something, but his wrecked voice and the force of his emotions leave
his voice unintelligible, so Harry simply holds his mate until he’s calm again.

“Let’s get back in bed, Lou,” Harry suggests. “The penguin can come, too.”

That ends up being what Louis needs to hear, because he lets Harry help him back to his feet and,
still clutching the penguin like his life depends on it, he pads down the hall after Harry.

Louis admits softly, after they’re back in bed, under the cloak of darkness, “I feel guilty for feeling
happy.”

“What do you mean, love? There’s nothing wrong with being happy.”

“I catch myself not thinking about Regan, and I feel guilty. I feel like I’m forgetting her,” Louis
says, voice cracking.

“Lou,” Harry says. “That’s not forgetting, baby. That’s healing .”

“What?”

“We’re never going to forget Regan, love. That’s a promise.”

Louis lays awake for a long time after Harry falls asleep, running a hand over his little boy, nestled
safely in his belly. He’s lost in thought, unaware of how much time is passing, but at the same
time, he feels perfectly at ease.

Before too long, though, he begins to get restless, and he feels uncomfortable on his back. Rolling
onto his side, Louis wraps an arm around Harry’s torso and presses a soft kiss to his mate’s
shoulder.

Hardly five minutes later, just as he’s dozing off, a firm kick jolts him awake. He rests a hand on
his belly, feeling a softer kick this time, like he got exactly what he wanted by waking his mom up.

It seems to have woken Harry up as well, because the sleepy alpha rolls over with a frown on his
confused face and asks, “Did you just kick me?”

“Wasn’t me,” Louis says honestly. He waits a couple seconds for Harry’s tired brain to register
what that means, and then Harry is wide awake.

With a quick glance to Louis to ask if it’s alright (to which he gets an easy nod, because of course
it’s okay) Harry holds out his hands and engulfs Louis’s belly with them, rubbing over the skin
reverently.

“Hi, little man,” Harry says softly. “It’s Daddy.”

Louis feels the kick before Harry’s eyes flood with tears - happy tears - and then he’s crying while
still tracing lines, circles, any kind of pattern into Louis’s stomach as he speaks to their son.

He’s in awe over the feeling of his son, kicking the palms of his hand from inside Louis. They stay
awake, talking, giggling, and laughing quietly until their throats are sore and they’re falling asleep
between words.
The next morning, finally feeling ready, Louis seeks Harry out and hands him a list of baby names
that he’s come up with.

***

April 2022

Halfway through the first full week of April, Liam calls Harry and asks if they’d be willing to
watch his puppy for him while he goes on a business trip. Louis, remembering the dog who
ignored him, is a bit hesitant, but ultimately goes along with it because the alpha is Harry’s friend.

The man shows up with a puppy - no, a dog - in tow, with a small, child’s backpack full of toys, a
bag of food, and (of course) the dog, now named Sirius. When Liam announces his name, Louis
and Harry both roll their eyes at their friend’s obsession with Harry Potter, but welcome them both
in regardless.

It’s a seamless drop off, one that Louis stays away from for the most part. He’s content with
enjoying his time on the couch as he reaches the end of his thirty-third week. After their last and
final appointment until the baby arrives, Dr. Griffin had mentioned that rest, relaxation, and time
are the best things for the baby right now. In the wake of that information, Louis has all but made a
second nest on the couch. Other than his frequent trips down the hall to the bathroom and small
shifts so he doesn’t get sore, Louis has taken it upon himself to rest until this baby comes.

All in all, Sirius isn’t a bad dog. Liam seems to have given him plenty of attention, and he is doing
just fine with the adjustment to a new place. Ever since day two with them, Sirius has been Louis’s
best friend. The sweet puppy follows him absolutely everywhere. The terrier even follows him to
the bathroom, and if Louis even thinks about closing the door, Sirius sits on the other side and
whines until he comes out. At first, it was disconcerting, but now Louis is enjoying the attention.
Even when he shuffles back to the couch, Sirius is right on his heels.

Harry, having not seen the puppy for a while, wanders around the house to make sure he hasn’t
gotten into anything. What he sees when he finds the pup melts his heart.

He’s curled up with Louis on the couch, muzzle resting on the omega’s rounded belly. Harry can
see the way the dog’s ears prick every few seconds, and can’t help but smile when the dog raises a
confused head to stare intently at Louis’s belly. With a soft lick to the omega’s stomach, Sirius lays
his head back down.

On Monday evening, day five with Sirius, Harry proposes a nice dinner out for the two of them. He
and Louis get dressed up and drive out to a nice restaurant, shy smiles and gentle touches
exchanged comfortably.

To ease Harry’s mind, Louis orders salmon, grilled vegetables, and at the end, they treat
themselves by splitting a cookie. The warm, sweet cookie nearly melts in his mouth, and Louis all
but melts in his seat when Harry offers him the last bite.

“That was delicious,” Louis says conversationally, leaning back in his chair. He rests his handover
his bump and sees Harry watching, so he scoots himself against the wall of their booth and pats the
empty seat for Harry to slide into, which he does.

The alpha turns his whole body to face him, placing a hand over Louis’s smaller ones. Louis nearly
dozes off as Harry traces patterns into the stretched skin, but when he focuses on the touch, he
smiles when he registers Harry tracing I <3 U onto his belly over and over and over.

“I love you, too,” Louis says.

“Was talking to him,” Harry grins like a dork, nodding his head to the bump, but leans down to kiss
Louis’s pout away. “I love you too, though. So much. Can’t believe you’re giving me a son.”

They collect the check, pay, and after a few more minutes of conversation, Harry stands to help
him up. Hand in hand, they walk back to the car and drive home in a comfortable silence.

The date doesn’t end there, though. When they get into the house, Harry asks Louis if he’d like to
take a bath with Harry. His skin heats up at the thought, and he nods.

The water is nearly scalding, just like he likes it, when he steps in with a quiet hiss. Bubbles are
nearly overflowing the tub, and they tickle his belly as he eases himself down into the water with
Harry to help him keep his balance. Still thin and flexible, Harry jumps in after him and settles
behind him with his hands rubbing circles into Louis’s bump. The omega relaxes back into the
touch, and they soak in silence for several minutes.

Harry must notice the change in Louis’s scent, because he carefully teases his hand further under
the water until he can trail his index finger up and down Louis’s erection.

“What’s this for?” Harry asks, a smug smile stretching his lips. He tucks his grin into Louis’s neck,
biting lightly before kissing it better. Louis whines softly and tilts his head to give his mate better
access. “Hmmm, Lou?”

“You,” Louis slurs, punch drunk and a bit dizzy from arousal. It’s been so long since they’ve done
anything, and he honestly feels like he might explode. “‘S for you.”

“Oh, thank you, baby,” Harry praises lightly. “Can I help make you feel good?”

“ Yes ,” Louis moans, shifting his hips. “Please, Haz. Can’t - I can’t. Yeah, please.”

Harry wraps his hand loosely around Louis’s prick and begins tugging lightly. With his chest
pressed against Louis’s back, he can feel the man’s shiver when he breathes his next question
lightly against his ear. “What can’t you do, love?” He asks.

“Can’t - the angle. It’s just…hard.”

“I can help with that, omega,” Harry says.

“Alpha, please.”

With a soft, non threatening growl, Harry urges Louis up onto his knees. He spins the boy around
and pulls him onto his lap so they’re facing one another.

“Gonna make you feel so good,” Harry promises. “Give you whatever you want.”

With tender, loving touches, Harry takes Louis apart in the bathtub. He fingers Louis open so
slowly that the omega comes twice before Harry’s even gotten his cock in him. By the time Harry
coaxes the omega up so he can lower himself onto Harry’s dick, the smaller man is bleary eyed
and completely pliant.

A violent shiver wracks Louis’s body when he’s finally seated on Harry’s cock, and he hardly
wastes a minute before he’s lifting himself up only to let himself drop right back into place. He
builds up the rhythm until he’s panting, Harry clutching at his rounded hips for leverage. Before
long, and especially with the extra weight, Louis becomes tired, and Harry hoists him up and
begins pistoning his hips up into his mate.

Harry comes first, having held off for the better part of an hour, but Louis follows quickly after,
squeezing Harry’s sensitive knot tightly and pulling another rope of cum from the alpha.

Breathing heavily, they settle in the water to wait for Harry’s knot to deflate and exchange happy,
sated kisses. With a mate that’s already pregnant, the knot doesn’t last longer than ten minutes, but
it’s enough that Louis feels relaxed and sleepy.

“Ready for bed, Lou?” Harry asks after he’s pulled out and Louis’s cleaned himself up. His mate
nods with a large yawn, and Harry chuckles.

Harry gets out first, fetching a towel for himself that he wraps around his waist before he holds
both hands out for Louis. The omega, on unsteady feet, hauls himself up only to freeze.

“Lou?” Harry asks, a pang of uncertainty floods through their bond, and he lets his eyes flick over
Louis’s face.

“I think my water just broke,” Louis whispers. Despite knowing that Louis is in fact soaking wet at
this moment, Harry’s gaze drifts to the omega’s legs. They don’t seem to be wet with anything that
would be alarming (like blood) so he urges Louis out, dries him off, and rifles through their clothes
for something that they can wear to go to the hospital.

As he is kneeling on the floor to help Louis with his pants, the omega begins laughing. Harry looks
up, fearing his mate has gone mad, but the fluffy-haired man’s flushed face and silly smile ease his
worries.

“You,” Louis cuts himself off to laugh again. “You fucked the baby right out of me!” He eclaims,
and this time, Harry joins in his laughter.

“Yeah, I guess I did.”

They gather their things from the bedroom and make their way down the hall. For all the times
they’ve been panicked and worried about the baby, this isn’t one of those times. Louis feels…
ready in a way he never has before. He feels ready to bring their baby home with Harry.

Now thankful that they’ve had a diaper bag packed at the door for weeks, Harry picks that up, lifts
it over his shoulder, and grabs their own small backpack. He meets Louis in the living room, where
he’s struggling to put on shoes, and Harry kneels down to help.

However, he hears a low growl just before he eases Louis’s foot into his lap to slip the Toms on his
swollen feet. Instincts already heightened with his mate going into labor, Harry growls back out of
instinct. Sirius comes into the room with the fur on his spine sticking straight up, and jumps up
onto the couch with Louis, who shushes him and eases his fur flat again.

Once Harry gets the shoes on, he reaches out to help Louis up, but he jumps back with a startled
sound when Sirius snaps at him.
“What the fuck?” Harry huffs, blazing eyes fixed on the dog. “He’s my mate, not yours!”

“Harry, calm down.” Louis teases. “He can smell the baby, and he’s being protective.” With a
quick pat to Sirius’s head, Louis hauls himself off the bed with a bit of struggle. Meanwhile, Sirius
keeps his eyes on Harry. The alpha huffs.

“My mate,” He reiterates.

As ready as they’ll ever be, they drive to the hospital after putting Sirius in the backyard. They are
quick to be admitted and Dr. Griffin meets them in the examination room for a few tests.

“We’ll do an AmniSure test to check the levels of your amniotic fluid, and, depending on those
results, we may have a few more questions or tests to do,” She explains. She swabs Louis to collect
a sample of his discharge and, as they wait for the results she asks a few more questions. “Are you
experiencing any contractions?”

“I don’t think so, or if I am, I don’t notice them.” Louis says.

“And did you see any evidence of wetness when you felt your water breaking?”

“I’d just been in the bath. It was mostly the feeling that made me think my water broke.”

After she wrote all the information down, Dr. Griffin read the results of the Amnisure test.

“It looks to be negative, which tells me that you are unlikely in active labor, but we have one more
thing to do, which is a BPP Sonogram.”

“What is that?” Harry asks.

“It’s a Biophysical Profile. It’s several tests that, combined with your amniotic fluid levels, give us
a score. Anything higher than an eight is good, but if it’s any lower, or significantly lower, you’ll
stay and be induced so we can keep an eye on you.”

They did some tests as Dr. Griffin explains that they’re measuring movement and muscle tone as
well as a few other things. When she sits back, about thirty minutes later, she stands and says she’ll
be right back with the results.

They wait in a slightly tense silence for a few minutes before she’s back with a smile on her face.
“Good news, Louis,” She says. “You’re at a safe and healthy eleven. There’s no reason to think
that you’re in active labor until you start feeling contractions.”

“So what does that mean?” Louis asks. “I just go home?”

“Yes,” Dr. Griffin nods. “Continue to rest and listen to your body and your omega. They’ll tell you
- loud and clear - when it’s time.”

“Okay,” Harry and Louis both say.

It’s a bit weird coming to the hospital and expecting to leave with a baby, but Louis is secretly glad
they have a bit more time just the two of them. Plus, the longer this baby stays inside him, the
better the chances are for him to survive.
The second he’s let inside, Sirius is all over Louis, whining and wiggling and running around with
excitement. From all the commotion, Louis is feeling a bit warm, so he pulls off his shirt much to
the enjoyment of his alpha.

He can feel Harry’s eyes on him as he settles into the mess of blankets and shirts on the couch, but
Sirius is there, so his alpha isn’t allowed anywhere near him. With a fond chuckle as the puppy
sniffs over his belly, Louis cards his fingers through his soft fur.

***

Louis hates this.

Ever since they got back from the hospital, despite the doctors telling him he’s not in labor, Louis
feels like his water is breaking every time he stands up. He’s uncomfortable and irritable, and he’s
in pain.

His back hurts, and his feet hurt, and his head hurts. Not even a massage from Harry has helped, so
he called Dr. Griffin, who told him that elevation and rest are the most important things. He nearly
rolled his eyes, and immediately felt guilty, but he can’t entirely help it. Everything hurts.

Today is their last day watching Sirius, and Louis is soaking up as much of the comfort the little
dog can give him. He still follows Louis to the bathroom, but Louis has given up and started
leaving the door open. He says it’s in case of an emergency, but he knows that the dog feels
anxious when Louis is out of sight.

As they eat dinner that night, Louis begins to feel tiny little twinges in his belly. At first, he
brushes them off as Braxton Hicks, but they slowly begin to grow closer together.

“Hazza,” Louis calls calmly, well aware of how on edge Harry is feeling.

“Yes, love?”

“What are you doing?”

“Finishing up with the dishes.”

“Okay, will you let me know when you’re done? Wanna cuddle.”

“If you need a cuddle, I’ll come now.” Louis hears puttering from the kitchen and shifts.

“It’s okay; I can wait until you’re done,” Louis says quickly. He still can hear Harry rushing
through the taks of loading the dishwasher and setting it to run on a delayed start after Louis’s
shower tonight, but they may have other plans.

Harry is wiping his damp hands on his shirt when he comes into the living room. Sirius lifts his
head, ever so watchful, and growls when Harry comes closer.

“Hush,” Harry scolds. “He wants me here.”

“Hush, you,” Louis chuckles. “Help me up.”

“Thought you wanted a cuddle?” Harry asks, holding his hands out regardless. Louis waits to
answer until he’s on his feet, and smiles.

“I’ve been feeling contractions,” Louis grins.

“What? How long? How far apart?!”

“Since dinner, but they’re not very strong. They’re getting a bit closer together though, so I’d like
to go see Dr. Griffin.”

Harry fuses for a second, scolding his mate for not telling him sooner, but Louis shrugs it off and
says, “I know my body,” which shuts Harry up real quickly. They grab their things and, after
putting Sirius out in the yard in case they’re gone long, they head to the hospital.

This time, Louis is much calmer, more understanding of what’s happening as nurses check him
over and give him a gown to change into for the AmniSure test and another BPP.

This time, when Dr. Griffin comes, back, there’s a small smile.

“You’ve gone from an eleven to a three, Louis,” She says. Before she can explain what that means,
Harry asks, and she chuckles. “It means that you’ll be staying here where we can keep an eye on
you until you deliver.”

“Wait, “ Louis says. “Deliver? I’m only thirty-four weeks. It’s too early.”

“We-”

“No, I’m not ready. The baby isn’t ready. He needs more time!” Louis, despite his calm coming to
the hospital, is feeling a bit hysterical. He is vaguely aware of Harry humming, but thankfully the
alpha seems to realize that their song won’t be enough to ease his mind in this situation. Instead, he
squeezes Louis’s neck comfortingly and turns to the doctor.

“Remember what Dr. Griffin said about viability? He’s big and strong, and he’s going to be just
fine. Thirty-four weeks along gives us excellent odds, Lou.”

“I don’t care. I need more time; we’re - he’s - I’m not ready!”

“Louis, take a couple of deep breaths for me,” Dr. Griffin urges. He does so and, feeling a bit
calmer, he looks at her for another cue. “We’re going to give you some magnesium to help stop
your labor, okay? We’ll give you some steroid shots to help baby’s lungs develop a bit more, but
you’ll have a catheter in, so you won’t be able to get up, okay?”

“But I’ll have more time?” He asks.

“Yes, Lou,” Harry chimes in. “We’ll have some more time.”

Harry steps out of the room to phone Liam and inform him of the situation. Liam says not to worry,
and he’ll call when his flight lands so Harry can meet him at the house to get Sirius. When he goes
back into the room, Louis is fast asleep.

Two days later, Louis feels absolutely disgusting. He hasn’t left the bed or moved other than to
change positions. The magnesium drip he’s been on has left his body feeling like he’s been lit on
fire, and he’s about to cry from how disgusting he feels.

As if the thought broke the dam holding back his tears, one leaks down each cheek just before he
starts sobbing. Harry, who had been dozing, leaps to his feet.

“Louis, love, what’s wrong? Are you in pain?”

“No!” Louis wails. “I’m disgusting and gross and I can’t move! I can’t do this anymore, Harry! I
have to get out of here.”

Harry presses the Call button, and a nurse comes bustling in. Her steps falter when she sees the
state Louis is in, and after Harry explains, she tells Louis in a calm and very understanding voice
that she’ll get Dr. Griffin on the phone and ask her what she’d like to do.

Two hours later, Louis is taken off the drip and is allowed to shower for the first time since getting
to the hospital. He steps out feeling clean and refreshed, but now once again in active labor.

It’s a bit of a race to get ready after that. Peoplle are in and out of the room as his contractions get
closer together. After his epidural is administered, there’s a bit of a scare when his oxygen dips
down too low, so they put a mask on him. A fetal monitor is placed on the baby, and at about
midnight, every calms down enough for them to fall asleep.

Early the next morning, Louis wakes up feeling the need to push. He calls the nurse in and rouses
Harry, who was slumped over in a chair next to the bed, mouth open. A team from the NICU team
comes in and stands in the corner of the room with an incubator, out of the way after introducing
themselves.

Once he was dilated enough to begin pushing. It feels weird pushing when you can’t feel half your
body, but Dr. Griffin guides him through it.

It’s the weirdest and most magical feeling, experiencing that pain but knowing what he’ll have at
the end. His vision is swimming with tears as he pushes again, and then the shoulders are out.

Dr. Griffin, with the help of a couple more pushes from Louis, finally gets the baby out. Louis
holds his breath so he doesn’t miss the first cry, but his lungs start to burn with how long he waits,
and his heartrate kicks up.

“What’s going on?” He croaks, wiping his eyes. “Why isn’t he crying?”

He sees his baby, his beautiful little baby boy, in Dr. Griffin’s hands. He’s still, with his eyes
closed, and he can’t help but think the worst. A nurse nearby unscrews the fetal monitor, and then
he lets out the most beautiful, full-bodied scream that Louis has ever heard. It brings tears to his
eyes, relieved that he’s breathing, and he watches through tears as Harry steps forward to cut the
cord.

He’s handed their son, and he looks down at the tiny little human. He’s not even as long as Harry’s
forearm, and he looks so tiny in his daddy’s hands. Harry walks over to Louis without taking his
eyes off their son, and lays him carefully on Louis’s chest.

With a quiet sob, Louis stares at their son in awe. Harry procures a sharpie from his pocket and
makes a tiny dot on the bottom of his foot. When Louis raises an eyebrow, Harry explains, “Just so
we know he’s ours.”
Louis doesn’t reply, content to let Harry find comfort for himself, and leans down to scent his son.
The boy’s fresh, clean scent is there despite the blood and fluid still on him, but Louis inhales
again, feeling drunk with it.

Jackson Blake Styles, born on April 13th at 8:02 a.m. weighing just 4 pounds and 11 ounces, is
given a mostly clean bill of health. Louis, who still is producing milk on his own, bottle feeds him.
While he isn’t eating enough to be given a completely clean bill of health, the fact that he’s moving
and breathing and swallowing on his own is more than enough for the happy couple.

One the epidural wears off, Louis relieves himself without the use of a catheter and is wheeled
down the hall to the NICU. Inside the doors, Harry begins making his way down the rows of beds
to look for a familiar black dot on a wrinkly little foot. Louis, however, takes a deep breath and
rolls himself forward. He carefully maneuvers his wheelchair around incubators filled with tiny,
sleeping babies, until he’s in front of the one that is his.

A couple seconds later, Harry finds him.

“Hi, baby,” Louis says softly, reaching in and stroking down Jackson’s little arm with a finger. “It’s
Mommy.”

“And Daddy,” Harry chimes in.

“We can’t wait to take you home. Grandma will be here tonight, and she’s bringing you a rocking
chair - the same one she rocked me in when I was a pup,” Louis whispers.

“Can’t wait for you to see your room, little man.” Harry tells him. He leans down to press a kiss to
the top of Louis’s head, and he raises his face to get a real kiss from his husband.

It’s eight more days before they’re able to take Jackson home. He wasn’t eating enough, and losing
weight, so they kept him - nearly six days after Louis was discharged - to make sure he was really
ready to go home. Once he could maintain his oxygen level and his temperature, they placed him
in a carseat to do the same, and he was released.

The phone call informing them they could come take their baby home was emotional to say the
least. They’d once again left the house with the assumption that they'd bring their baby back, and
had to come home empty-handed, but with full hearts.

The ache of losing Regan isn’t overshadowed by Jackson’s arrival. In reality, they feel more
connected to her now that he’s here. They see wistful bits of what could’ve been every time
Jackson coos or tries to smile. They see her in long nights awake with a screaming newborn and in
comfortable silences with Harry during naps.

Louis expects the ache. He waits for it to come and rip him from sleep in the middle of the night or
send him down the hall to check on Jackson with fear constricting his lungs. He waits for it, but it
never comes. Instead, Louis remembers the sleepless nights, he feels the loss and it hurts, but he
looks down at his son in his bed, it all disappears for a moment. He feels happy and thankful, but
mostly just in love with his family.
Chapter End Notes

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