Code Blue [Larry Stylinson MPreg]

epilogue. *new edition*

THE NEXT MORNING...

Louis put his arms behind his head and looked to the ceiling. Beside him, in bed, Harry's snores muffled into his pillow. Louis blinked at the ceiling fan. After a moment, his stomach grew queasy. He rolled his eyes, with a heavy sigh, and rolled onto his side. He grabbed his phone from the bedside table and clicked on the screen. Letting his eyes settle from the sting of the light, he checked the time; 5:30am.

Being in One Direction, early call times were the norm. Sometimes they were up so early the morning fog was still blanketing the sky. He had kept that routine every day since so his body was used to waking up early. But it was hard to wake up when you hadn't even fallen asleep in the first place.

Louis groaned softly and rubbed away the heaviness in his face. Why couldn't he sleep? He'd just been sliced open and given birth to two babies. How was Harry more tired than him? Louis mumbled his irritation onto his pillow and turned his eyes onto the baby monitor; both twins were fast asleep. Louis knew he better enjoy this while it lasted but their tiny snores crackling through the speaker made him envious. Envious of his own babies?  Louis rolled his eyes and chuckled, softly, to himself, as the reality that his life has completely changed forever finally sunk in. He threw off his blanket and sat up, in a huff, almost immediately slowing, and wincing through his teeth, as the tender pull of his stitches reminded him to slow down. Beside him, Harry, instinctively, groggily mumbled, "You alright, Babe?" but gave Louis no time to answer before falling back to sleep. Louis scoffed and shook his head, as he held his hand against his stitches to cradle them. He hung his feet over the edge of the bed and rubbed the heavy from his eyes. He let out a heavy sigh, massaging a crick in his neck, and glanced over his shoulder at Harry. For a moment, he forgot to blink, as he admired the way Harry's cheeks smooshed against the pillow. He tilted his head, slightly, and a smile grew at the corner of his mouth, as he wondered what dreams were behind Harry's fluttering eyelids. Most days he loved staying awake just to hear Harry breathing. Unfortunately, today wasn't one of those days, as his usual awe was quickly outshined by the burning jealousy in his own eyes, reminding Louis how he couldn't sleep. Louis tilted his head back and closed them to mask the sting. He took a deep breath, rolled away the tension in his shoulders, and shook his head. With a defeated sigh, Louis ran his hands through his hair and, after a count of three, carefully, heaved himself out of bed. 

If his body wouldn't let him sleep, he might as well get a head start on the day.

***

Louis leaned against the kitchen counter. The glowing toaster warmed the morning chill of his chest, an ice pack cooled the burn of his stiches. He let out a small yawn then, tilted his head toward the living room. Niall was there, passed out on the couch. One arm slung over the back the other hung from the edge, a stuffed duck dangling from his fingers and, slowly, falling. He had one leg up on the seat, in a V-shape, tucked under his other leg. Louis snickered at the bit of dried spit up on the corner of Niall's t-shirt.

The kettle hissed on the stove top. Louis stretched his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose then, with his free hand, lifted it off the burner and held his thumb on the lid, as he poured himself a cup. He set the kettle back down just as the toast popped. Louis pulled each piece from its compartment and let out a sharp wince, as he dropped them onto his plate. He licked the crumbs off his fingers and shook the burn from his hand then, he leaned against the counter, to hold the ice pack in pace, as he grabbed the butter tray and added a bit to each slice. Once they were perfectly buttered, he took his plate to the table first. Then, his cup of tea. As he sat down, Louis cradled the ice pack against his stitches but still cringed, slightly, as they tugged his abdomen as he sat down.