It always comes back to you

Chapter 22

~One screwed up month later~

If there was one thing Louis was good at, it was ignoring pain, except for this one. The laps around the house weren't easing it at all and he was afraid to try climbing into the tub, as he'd get stuck and end up drowning more than likely. Stopping for the fiftieth time, Louis groaned loudly. "OK, so that's not a fucking Braxton Hicks.. that was re - .." He gasped, grabbing onto the counter when the pain hit him again. Shit, their daughter wanted to meet them.

Quickly grabbing his overnight bag, cell phone, and shoes, he headed for his Honda. Right as he slid behind the wheel, another contraction hit, tears springing to his eyes as he sped to get to the hospital, breaking the speeding limit and luckily, not running across any cops.

"Need my husband," Louis croaked out when he made it to the right floor. Out of breath, he held up a finger for the nurse to give him a second then licked over his lips. "Page Doctor Harry Styles. I'm his husband and I'm in fucking labor!"

Harry had been reluctant to go to work, the purplish bag beneath Louis' eyes and the quiet padding around the house at all hours of the night tell-tale signs of their end game. He was usually good at reading people, so when he seen Louis up and running about that morning, he figured he'd be fine. Besides, he had an extra long lunch today and could always run home to check on him.

He was only three hours into his shift and was scrubbing in for his nine o'clock surgery when somebody began to impatiently tap on the glass door. Hands held up, he pressed the button with his elbows and raised an eyebrow at the nurse flushed red with droplets of sweat collecting at her hairline. "What? I'm trying to go and crack open that man's chest," he growled, irritation dripping from his words as he dried his hands that were permanently stained with that godly antiseptic soap.

The nurse rolled eyes. "Your husband is currently being admitted to the hospital in active labor. John is sending up Dr. Hemmings to take your place." When she'd done what she'd been sent up to do, Kelly exited to head home.

Louis was a floor below, refusing to lay down in the bed. Honestly, it felt better to stand, leaning over the bed. He hadn't even changed into a hospital gown when another contraction hit, the nurse assigned to him was the victim of his hand crushing hers as he let out a cry from the pain. God, he wanted his husband.

Painkillers weren't even on Louis' mind as he wanted as natural a birth as possible. When the contraction was over, Louis sighed and apologized, dropping the nurse's hand and shakily grabbed for the mug of water to soothe his dry throat. "I want my husband, please?"

The blue towel he had been using to dry his hands fell to the floor as Harry's entire body froze, locking in place with fear and shock before he was quickly dissolving and sprinting towards the staircase. "Page some fucking quack for the surgery!" He yelled at one of the nurses who had been assigned to his surgery. He didn't care about them or anything else, really. His fucking wife was in labor and his grubby handed, childish and idiotic friend was getting nowhere close to Louis.

"Where's Louis?" Harry asked a nurse he passed when he finally burst through the door on the labor and delivery floor. His heart was racing fast, wild eyes trying to stay focused on the woman who had once been Louis' friend.

She jerked her thumb over her shoulder, popping her gum with her teeth. "He's over there, room 1442."

Not even a second later they heard screaming, followed by Louis yelling a few loud curse words. Harry hide his grin behind his hand as he ran to the room, still dressed in his surgical gear with his booties slipping and sliding on the floor. "Idiot! You should have called me," he yelled as soon as his eyes fell on Louis, who was hunched over the side of the bed with Luke's hand in his own, the taller males fingers bright red and pain contorting his face.