butterfingers (l.s mpreg)

five, week 12

At the beginning of July on a Monday, Harry was pacing around Louis' apartment, a banana in his right hand and his phone in the left.

Mark is trudging along behind him, the little tags on his red collar jangling as he followed.

Louis is watching him from his couch, his laptop resting on top of one of the brown pillows from the sofa. His framed glasses are low on his nose, a little smile on his thin red lips while he fonds over Harry.

It seemed so silly, for Harry to be so bothered by his mom coming to visit. He knew they had to act like a couple, but what would change, he questioned. Aside from Louis' idea that Harry stay with Louis for the duration of Anne's trip, nothing was all that different.

This was another thing that completely bothered Harry. He worried he would never leave. He knew Louis had suggested he move in before, but he denied this. It wasn't permanent, only until the baby is born and things. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad, he figured.

He thought of the nice fuzzy white carpet in Louis' living room, which he most definitely did not have at his place. He thought of the massive windows visible from the granite kitchen island, looking out to the line of bistros and small shops across the street.

It was all so cozy and warming, big white down comforters and dark hard wood floors with a large bookcase and a full pantry. Felt like home to him, and frankly, not too bad to spend a week and a half.

This was until he realized he could
never sleep two rooms over from Louis every night without falling head over heels for him. That had to be avoided.

And it was also proven to Louis this morning, as he watched Harry sleep.

He couldn't back away.

The boys hair was resting stop his black pillows and one arm gripped the little pudge on his tummy. He could finally see it now that he's at his 12th week mark (which he noted several times on his bulldog of the month calendar.) he could see his skin clearing a bit, though it's not that it was terrible before. He simply had blemishes here and there, just like any other stressed adult.

His lips were parted, not greatly but he could see a little bit of his tooth poking out. He couldn't help but notice how beautiful he looked right there. So beautiful he could kiss him.

And so he did, a little peck on the forehead before he left for the kitchen to make some breakfast. Harry's favorite eggs and ham and his own favorite eggs and tomatoes. Although, Harry had a little of both.

Considering Harrys mother was due to be here this evening, Louis watched a satisfied Harry clean the guest room after breakfast. It worried him how used to Harry he was getting, his little remarks and the way he folded bath towels.

"You know, you shouldn't be worrying about your mother's arrival, she's going to be a sweetheart, I'm sure. And you know, I'm quite the charmer." Louis chuckled, running a free hand through his hair while Harry giggled from beside him, causing the apple juice in his cup to shake back and forth.

Soon they were on the rug, sitting criss cross in front of Louis' dark coffee table. Harry went on about his family, telling him about his moms work.

"She's a photographer," Harry expressed, flipping through his phone hoping to find photos of her.

"She loves children, and also cooking." Louis eyed the boy beside him, wondering just how long he could resist him. How twisted, he thought, for Harry to just speak and have Louis wrapped around his fingers.