Random Harry Styles Short Stories || Completed!

Bad Words

Harry was sitting across the table from you and your two-year-old son as you ate breakfast together first thing in the morning. The sound of Fleetwood Mac's Rumours album was playing through the kitchen speakers and the warm breeze from outside blew through the open window over the sink. It was a perfect, quiet spring day and you were excited to spend it with your two favourite boys. It wasn't often when Harry had absolutely nothing work related to do and could spend the entire day at home focused on his family.

You smiled over at your little boy who was happily sitting in his high chair at the end of the table eating his breakfast of porridge and blueberries. He was trying his best to use his spoon in front of him but he mostly used his little fingers to reach for his blueberries in front of him.

"Such a good boy!" You praised as your son managed to get a spoonful of porridge up to his messy mouth. You glanced at Harry across the table and he had a proud grin on his face as well. Just as you began to say how incredibly smart and talented your baby boy was, Harry's phone buzzed from his pocket.

"Fucking shit." Harry muttered as he checked his phone in his lap.

"Harry," You quipped at him as you took a sip of your coffee. Harry glanced at you innocently and you nodded over at your two-year-old who was shoving his face with blueberries and porridge.

"Sorry," Harry replied with a small chuckle, "just realized I forgot to call Jeff about something."

"Alright, well, watch your mouth next time." You scolded him quietly. He chuckled again and insisted he would. You glanced at your son again and he didn't appear to be listening to your conversation, but you knew that two-year-olds were like sponges that soaked up everything around them.

"Mumma, more?" Your son spoke up from beside you. You smiled as you watched him sign the word "more" in sign language, something that you and Harry had taught him before he had learned how to talk.

"Sure, you can have some more blueberries, bub." You offered as you stood from your seat at the table. You rummaged through the fridge to find the container of blueberries and you heard Harry sigh from the table behind you.

"What's wrong?" You questioned curiously as you closed the fridge and returned to your seat at the table with a full bowl of blueberries in your hand.

"I'll be right back, have to make a couple of calls." Harry explained as he stood up from his seat at the table. You nodded before he disappeared down the hallway.

"Hey, Jeff-" His voice drifted off on the phone as he made his way upstairs.

You felt a bit disappointed that Harry had to clear up some work things so early in the day, especially seeing as you two had planned to spend all day with your son. You were more than understanding that Harry's job wasn't a typical one, and that meant that sometimes there were no days off for him, but that was okay. You decided to shrug it off, knowing he wouldn't be too long upstairs. Your son was more than content finishing his breakfast then getting to play in the living room with all of his favourite toys.

Around an hour and a half later, Harry finally returned back downstairs. You couldn't help but smile when you saw him appear in the doorway of the living room, where you and your son were sitting on the floor, stacking a tower of blocks together.

"Dada!" Your son squealed excitedly when Harry stepped towards him.

"What're you and mumma playing? Can daddy join?" Harry knelt down onto his knees to join you on the floor.

"Okay, dada!" Your son grinned a cheeky grin up at his father. You sat back against the footrest by the couch and watched as the two boys played blocks and giggled with each other. It was seriously the sweetest thing to watch, you couldn't help but fall deeper in love with your husband, if that was even possible, while watching him and your son interacting.

After a little while of playing with Harry, your son began to ask for a snack. Since it had been quite a while since he ate breakfast, you decided it was probably time for a little snack before lunchtime.

"Here you go, my love." You smiled as you handed your son a small bowl of goldfish shaped crackers.

"Thank you, mumma!" Your son replied sweetly, a precious grin plastered on his face before shoving a couple of crackers into his mouth. He wandered back over towards the couch and you followed behind him.

"Come sit with daddy!" Harry suggested as he held his arms out for your son, who immediately toddled over to climb in his lap.

"That's my boy!" Harry smirked as he pressed a kiss to your son's chubby cheek. The three of you settled in on the couch together to watch a Mickey Mouse cartoon while your son ate his snack.

Your son wiggled his little body to sit up higher in Harry's lap but as he did this, his hand accidentally let go and dropped his bowl of crackers, which all spilled onto the floor in front of you.

"Shit!" Your son muttered as he climbed down from Harry's lap to pick them up. Your eyes widened at his inappropriate expression. You immediately glanced at Harry beside you, who burst into a fit of laughter.

"Harry!" You said as you slapped your hand against his leg.

"What? That's funny!" Harry couldn't help but chuckle his boyish laugh out loud.

"Don't encourage him to say that," You insisted as you bent down to help your son pick up all of his spilled crackers by your feet, "you're such a bad influence!" You couldn't help but tease Harry. You rarely swore around your son, unless you absolutely had to let one slip out, but Harry wasn't as careful. You knew this sudden outburst was a direct result of Harry's choice of language earlier over breakfast.

"Sorry," He muttered with one last chuckle, "s'not funny, I know."

"No, it's not," You insisted, trying your best to stay calm but firm in telling your son off, "that's not a nice thing to say, bub. Mumma doesn't like when you say those kinds of words." Your son quirked an eyebrow up at you and then over at Harry.

"Daddy says shit!" Your son explained with a shrug, clearly not understanding what the problem with his choice of language was. You glanced at Harry and gave him a look, telling him it was his turn to step in and explaining this to your son.

"Hey, bug," Harry spoke cautiously as he bent down to your sons level, "you know that's not a nice word to say? Daddy said it earlier and it was bad, he should've gone to time out." Your son giggled at the thought of his big, strong, daddy stuck in the timeout space by the staircase.

"We don't say those kinds of words, okay? Just nice words, like "oh, shoot!" or "oh, darn!" You explained further, trying to think of more appropriate expressions. Harry nodded along as you spoke.

"Daddy's really sorry he said a bad word earlier," Harry insisted sincerely, "can y'tell mumma you're sorry too?" You raised your eyebrow at your son.

"Okay," Your son nodded as he turned towards you again, "m'sorry, mumma!" You smiled down at your sweet boy, who had the most precious dimpled grin on his face.

"Thank you, baby," You said as you brushed your fingertips through his messy hair, "no more bad words, okay, boys?"

The two boys agreed they wouldn't say any more bad words, sealing their promises with pinky promises, which you thought was the most adorable thing in the world.