butterfingers (l.s mpreg)

thirteen, week 17

The following two weeks were slow and heavy, with Louis trudging to work every day with dark bags under his eyes and Harry crying himself awake and rubbing his tummy until the aches went away.

With an appointment tomorrow morning, Harry is hoping to finally get up on his feet and stop eating and sleeping all day (which is highly unlikely, he figures.)

Yet, the pair had spoken almost every day (although not in person.) Harry called at noon, usually an hour after he woke and his body couldn't handle waiting for him and the baby to hear Louis' voice again (he knew the baby couldn't hear, but for some reason they weren't so sad when Louis would giggle and tell Harry about Marky and his days at the office.)

They'd speak of Louis' laundry and what he needs to buy at the store this week, also the baby and whether they think the little bub will be a boy or girl. They both insist they couldn't care less, but Louis can't deny a curly haired little boy running around the house with big green eyes and Louis' button nose would never be all that bad. Except, of course, the fact he would never be in their house. His eyes sting at that thought.

Harry then notes that he's starting to get bigger and bigger, and at seventeen weeks he's getting closer and closer to the five month mark.

"Our little Louise is about the size of a turnip, and she's sporting ears now, Lou! Ears! Tiny, tiny baby ears. Isn't that the cutest thing you've ever heard?" Harry laughed, pacing back and forth in Cassie's kitchen, Caleb trailing behind with his hands crossed like Harry, mimicking his giggles.

Not quite, Louis thinks, it's not as good as Harry's giggle and his singing.

But instead he says "Louise again, H? I told you, we are not cursing our gorgeous child with that name." The sound of the word our leads to a tiny skip in both their hearts, and a tiny drop in Harry's stomach.

"Oh c'mon, Louis! It'd match you and she's gonna be your twin. It's cute." Harry's smile is deep and the incident from the last two weeks is in the very back of his head.

All Louis does is shake his head, moving his messy hair onto his forehead.

"And what times your appointment?" Louis questioned. He sat back down, giving Mark a stern pat on the head.

Mark seems to be the only one who hasn't recovered from Harry and Louis' outburst. He still looks for him, which on occasion causes Louis' bed to feel even more empty.

"11:00 I believe. Dianne wants me there early, to check in on how Lou- I mean the baby is doing. After my, uh, accident." Harry gulps at the thought.

"I'll be there at 10:30." He wants to ask him to lunch, to take him to the store and pretend he doesn't know where the angel hair pasta is because he likes watching Harry give directions (the green of Harry's eyes was far deeper when they radiated intent.)

"Alright. Goodbye Lou." Louis returns the goodbye and reminds himself to tidy up.

He hadn't seen Niall Horan in what some might call ages.

Niall, the now faux blonde investor was planning on stopping by within the hour for lunch and Louis would be terribly embarrassed if there were baby books and pickle jars everywhere (he kept them around, made him feel like Harry had never left.)

Marriage, he thought, a vow Niall would soon be making with his bride. Very beautiful, Louis had noted when they met at Niall's last get together. Sadie, he believed her name was.

They were due to be married in September, around Harry's 23rd week.

Before Louis could begin to think about Harry there was a loud knock and a hoarse chuckle coming from the door to Louis' (and Harry's) apartment. Louis jumped to his feet, running a hand through his feathery hair nervously.