This is the New Year (Larry Mpreg)

Thirty

"Louis, do you want to go on a date on Thursday?" Harry asks as they complete the finishing touches of the nursery in Louis's flat.

"Why Thursday?" Louis laughs, hanging a picture of a ship next to the bookshelf that Harry built for the baby. Their baby.

"It's our 6 month anniversary," Harry pouts, only slightly offended that Louis forgot.

"From our first date or when you asked me to be your boyfriend?"

"From when we became boyfriends," Harry sighs.

"I'd love to go on a date on Thursday, love," Louis smiles.

Harry can hardly wait.

///

Harry's telling Louis that he loves him tonight.

He wants to throw up.

6 whole months of dating, and Harry is finally telling Louis that he loves him. Half a year.

It's a quarter past 6 when Harry hears his front door swing open and shut shortly after, dainty footsteps following the sound up the stairs to Harry's bedroom.

"Hey, love," Louis says as he makes it to the top of the stairs, holding the bottom of his round belly as he catches his breath.

"Lou," Harry whines, still shirtless as he hasn't had time to put his button up on yet. His black and white floral slacks are already snugly surrounding his legs. "I was going to pick you up. It was going to be a proper date."

"What's the big deal, Curly?" Louis laughs, plopping himself down onto Harry's bed. He straightens out his maroon sweater with barely visible stripes and sleeves that are much too long for his small arms and crosses his black skinny jean clad legs over each other, bouncing his feet as he does so.

"It's our 6 month anniversary, and I just want everything to be perfect," Harry sighs, stepping into his bathroom that's visible from his bed and beginning to blow dry some of his hair back.

"It'll be perfect even if you don't pick me up, Haz," Louis reassures Harry, and the younger boy just nods.

"You're right," he mumbles before smiling over at the pregnant boy. "Everything will always be perfect when I'm with you."

Harry swears Louis's blush would be visible from a mile away, but he doesn't say anything about it because Louis likes to pretend that Harry's comments don't phase him, and Harry thinks it's adorable.

"Hurry up now, Curly. We don't want to be late," Louis says, ignoring Harry's comment.

"The reservation isn't until 7:30," Harry states with furrowed eyebrows.

"Yeah, but you need time to fix your hair again after we make out," Louis says cheekily, and Harry rolls his eyes, the dimples in his cheeks becoming visible.

"You're wrinkling your shirt," Harry says, looking at Louis as he buries himself deeper under the covers on Harry's bed.

"I'd rather you be the one to wrinkle it, but you're over there, and your flat is fooking freezing, so here I am. Miserable," Louis replies, feigning drama as he places the back of his hand to his forehead, tilting his head back slightly.

"Such a drama queen," Harry giggles with his toothbrush between his lips as he scrubs his teeth clean. He spits and rinses his mouth out a few moments later, plopping the toothbrush back into the rose gold cup on the counter. "I'm going to go get dressed downstairs, and you're going to wait here so that I can come up here and pick you up for our date, alright?"