Baby Lips [l.s mpreg] (boyxboy)

eight weeks - jan 22

"I'd be horrible at yoga, babe."

"Please," Harry whined, whirling to look at Louis with a pout etched across his entire face. "I don't want to do it alone, I need help."

He cracked in an embarrassingly short amount of time. "Okay, love. We can do yoga."

Harry clapped approvingly, smile stretching all the way to his dimples that Louis loves so much, and swayed in his spot. "I've been looking up some great moves for the first trimester."

"That exists?" Louis groaned, flopping back. "How about I just help you get into the position?"

"No way. We can get fit together!"

"Hazza," he drawled, holding it until he was out of breath. Just to exaggerate his obvious misery, of course.

There was a beat of silence. "We could do it in here. Like, y'know, on a mat. It'll help me stay flexible."

"So?"

"So, I'll be able to ride you like a champ."

Needless to say, Louis was immediately was on board with yoga and participated as actively as possible in their first session.

Harry winces a bit as soon as the gel touches his skin. "Do you keep this stuff in a freezer?"

Cathy laughs again, loud and bright, and Louis wonders why she's always so damn cheerful all the time. "No. The rooms here are just a bit cold, see – the gel is water based, so it adjusts to the room's temperature and feels cold on your warm skin."

"Oh." Harry nods, seemingly genuinely interested, "Can we heat it up next time, please?"

"I'm afraid not, love. It's highly discouraged."

"Hmph." Harry purses his lips but stops quickly when he realizes that his pouting won't have the same effect on Cathy as it does Louis. Louis has to fight the urge to roll his eyes extremely hard, but it doesn't put a damper on his fondness in the slightest. What a dork he's got on his hands, honestly.

Cathy rubs the gel on Harry's stomach in a very perfunctory manner and grabs a wand without blinking. "Ready?" Harry nods eagerly, practically squeezing the life out of Louis's hand. He's nearly bouncing as the wand touches his skin, and Louis opens his mouth to tease him until he hears it.

"Oh, God," is the only pathetic response he can come up with at the sound the echoes from the monitor. He feels his eyes widen to the size of saucers. Harry's hand has gone slack. "Is that-"

"Yes."

"Oh," Harry breathes, chest heaving, "I can't- but-"

Louis swallows around an irritatingly large lump in his throat. He will not cry. He will not cry. "Holy shit, Haz."

"There it is! How exciting!" Cathy crows, and Louis assumes that she's smiling again. He keeps his eyes clenched shut for a moment longer, because he's instantly overwhelmed by sensations. Tingles run up and down his spine. He has a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach; it's fluttery and sinking at the same time, like he's gone over the dip of a rollercoaster – he can't find a word to describe it. There's two little heartbeats thudding softly now instead of just Harry's, and a fuzzy image appears on the screen. He can't see it properly because he's tearing up like a proper sap. Harry sniffles next to him. It's beginning to sink in fully, he thinks, and it begins to truly and completely process. They made a new life. What will soon be a little person is growing inside of Harry. He helped do that, oh God.

"Lou," Harry whimpers, tears flowing unabashedly down his cheeks – which doesn't surprise Louis, because Harry's been a crier since the first day – but it doesn't stop him from leaning across and kissing Harry on the nose. "It's okay, baby. It's okay."

Cathy clears her throat. "If you look here, you can see-" she points to the monitor, "I believe you'll be able to identify your little one." And she's not lying, because Louis can clearly see a little blob on the screen just as obviously as he can hear the new, faint heartbeats.

"Do we know the sex?" Harry blurts, and Louis laughs wetly.

"No, baby, 's too early for that." Harry sulks, wiping more tears from his reddened eyes. Cathy nods.

"That doesn't come until your second trimester. Week sixteen or seventeen at the very least. Even then it depends on how the baby are situated-" Harry sniffles again at the word baby, "I can't promise any specific dates. We can only see if they're cooperating, loves."

"Can we have a picture, at least?" Harry all but begs, releasing Louis's hand to place both of his on top of Cathy's as he looks at her pleadingly, eyes wide and lower lip poking out. Cathy chuckles – yet again, Louis notes with an eye roll – at his gesture.

"Of course. I'll grab those for you," she assures him, slipping her hands away and wiping the remnants of the gel from Harry's skin. He smiles again, wide and genuine, and Louis's heart threatens to legitimately burst. He's so incredibly smitten, he thinks, especially when Harry is happy. He fills the room with his energy and his light without even trying and makes Louis feel like a balloon filled with sunshine, or something. His smile makes Louis want to write sonnets and his laugh makes him want to compose music – Harry could easily be his muse. He's a work of art in motion and he doesn't even realize or fully appreciate it.

"I love you," Louis blurts, staring at the side of Harry's face like it's the only thing he's ever wanted. Harry turns to him, blush creeping up on his smiley cheeks, and bites his lip.

"I love you, Lou." He laces their fingers together again, eyes still shimmering, and raises Louis's hand to his mouth. He kisses Louis's pinky, eyes locked on his face. "Pinky promise we'll be together forever?"

Louis barks out a laugh at that. "Pinky promise? Really?"

"Hey," Harry drawls.

Louis shakes his head, smiling so wide that he can actually feel the skin by his eyes crinkling. "Fine, pinky promise. Do you pinky promise to stay with me as well? Don't think I'd ever want anyone else."

"Yes, of course. Always." Louis's heart does a backflip.

They go home to Harry's with ultrasound pictures that Harry immediately shows off to both his mum and Gemma, who coo (and hide their obvious concern about how the hell Harry and Louis are going to handle a child behind their smiles) and Anne even offers to have them framed. Harry gives one to Louis, of course, who tucks it in the pocket of his wallet and feels like a proper father when he shows it to his own mother later on. She's still skeptical about the entire pregnancy thing, he knows, but he appreciates the amount of effort she's trying to put into their relationship as well as her life at home. Things are starting to get as great as he thinks they possibly can be, really.

Until he realizes that a child means more expenses. He doesn't really have a choice – if he's in this for the long run, which he is, he needs to have a good job guaranteed.

There's no room for taking risks.