Work Text:
“My tacy jesteśmy
Nie jesteśmy piękni
Nie jestem piękny”
/
“We are like this
We aren’t beautiful
I’m not beautiful”
– Sobel, Piękni Ludzie / Beautiful People
2029, May 15th
Birds.
Harry feels the corners of his pink lips tugging up. The sun’s finally up. He knows Louis will be very persistent for them to stay in bed, but Harry just can’t contain his elation about spending another day cherishing life. He doesn’t know when his perception of sleep changed from salvation to damnation, but he presumes somewhere along the way of falling in love with the Devil.
Which, as he has the time to think about it, was some good time ago.
He plans on waking Louis up with breakfast in bed, but he doesn’t even get the chance to escape Louis’s embrace before he feels Louis’s nose nuzzling at his neck.
Harry smiles to himself and tries shifting away but to no avail.
“Already trying to leave me, Princess? I thought we promised each other an eternity,” Louis drapes his words over Harry’s neck, planting little kisses at its nape.
“’M not,” Harry states with a pout.
“Oh, no? Don’t pout, darling. Daddy knows you wouldn’t leave him, would you?”
“Wouldn’t,” Harry replies while turning himself in Louis’s embrace. “Good Morning, sun.”
“Morning, H,” Louis answers.
He leans forward, planning to leave a kiss on Harry’s lips, but at the last second Harry turns his head, and the kiss lands on his cheek.
“Louis, I won’t kiss you with a stale breath,” Harry says with a little furrow between his eyebrows.
“Darling dearest, I couldn’t care less about your breath, you know it.”
“I know, but you not caring doesn’t mean I don’t care.”
“Hmmm, and what we should do with you, honey bunny?”
“You could always kiss me in other places,” Harry teases with a glint in his emeralds, “here, for instance,” he adds pointing to his solar plexus.
“Oh, could I?” Louis says while leaning towards the spot indicated by Harry mere seconds ago, “where else, pea?”
“Mmm, maybe here?” he proposes pointing to his lace-covered nipple.
“Should I give them some extra attention? Would you like that, Harry?”
He doesn’t get more than an eager nod in response. It prompts an ear-to-ear grin out of him.
“And what about them little nubs? They deserve some love too, don’t they?” Louis asks while pointing to Harry’s lower nipples.
“Mhm, yeah, they- they do,” Harry finally stammers out.
His nipples were always so sensitive, but lately they got even more receptive, which seems to work in Louis’s favour.
Louis moves the fair lace of the bralette to the side and then spends some good time fondling the nubs. Kissing them, licking them, tugging at them – which elicits the most obscene moans out of Harry. Just when he is ready to ask him about another spot to kiss, to love, to worship, he bites the nipple hard enough to throw Harry over the edge.
His abdomen pulls away from the sheets, and he’s coming with a cry of Daddy on his lips.
Untouched.
Huh, Louis wasn’t expecting that . Didn’t even dream about Harry coming just from the stimulation of his nipples.
Louis tears his eyes away from the pool of come on Harry’s lower belly, looking at his face, and dear father, help him.
Harry is a fucking sight. His alabastrine skin is covered in a thin layer of sweat which seems to be glistening in the rays of the morning sun. His eyes are shut, mouth, on the other hand, is left hanging open, panting. He looks so blissful that if Louis didn’t know better, he’d think he entered Heaven.
“Hey, honey bunny, can you look at me? Let me see this beautiful forest captured in your irises,” Louis prompts after a few minutes of taking in the scene in front of him.
Harry smacks his lips a couple of times, and then he finally opens his eyes.
And, fuck . He looks so vulnerable, so open, so trusting, Louis might cry.
“Sweetheart, are you okay? Can you come back to me? Can you take a sip?” Louis asks while handing Harry a glass of water from his nightstand.
Harry props himself on his forearms and lets Louis bring the glass to his lips. He takes it in small sips. When he deems it’s enough for now, he looks at Louis, tilts his head, and asks, “kiss?”
“I thought you didn’t want to get acquainted with my morning breath,” Louis states, but he’s still leaning in.
“Don’t care,” Harry says with a small smirk adorning his lips.
He gets an eye roll in response. And a kiss.
“Let me?” Harry asks, pointing towards Louis’s glistening cock, “please?”
And how on Earth could Louis deny this celestial boy in front of him? Who could say no to these hazy doe eyes? To these chocolate curls that drape over Harry’s slim shoulders? To that obscenely pink lips that are left parted just to tease Louis a bit with the sole vision of the things that might happen. That will happen. Maybe there’s someone who would say no to all of that, but it isn’t Louis. He can’t seem to be strong enough to say no to whatever whim Harry has. So he swallows down the spit gathered in his mouth, lays down, and nods, not trusting his mouth to produce coherent words.
And it’s enough for Harry to shimmy down to sit his plump bum on Louis’s calf and take him down in one go.
It’s also enough for Louis to nearly come undone under the ministrations of Harry’s mouth.
He looks down, at the beautiful creature humping his leg and taking him down, down, down. The now spit-covered lips stretched around the base of his girth. The tearful eyes looking up at him, assessing his every reaction.
He places his hand in Harry’s curls, and Harry immediately nuzzles into his touch. But he can’t bring himself to press, to choke him, even though he knows that’s what Harry wants. He just looks so gentle, so divine. Louis can’t be the one to disturb the cocoon of tranquillity. And Harry seems to understand that, making a kitten-like sound at the back of his throat, sending vibrations through Louis’s core.
“You’re so good, Princess, so, so good.”
And Harry can’t help but preen under the praise, doubling his efforts.
When he deems he teased his Daddy enough, he flattens his tongue and presses it to Louis’s shaft each time he’s moving up, sending him with practiced ease over the edge.
“Ugh, baby, oh, baby ,” Louis moans while spilling his come down Harry’s throat.
Harry laps every little drop eagerly before Louis hisses due to the oversensitivity and pulls his cock out of Harry’s mouth, leaving him with a pout on his rose-colloured lips.
“Come here, pea,” he says, opening his arms.
But Harry only places his rump on Louis’s calf, and oh , he came. From sucking Louis off. Untouched. Again .
And if this isn’t the most beautiful sight – his husband as the centerpiece of the eternal vista, right in front of him, basked in the hue of the morning sun, with sweat covering his whole body, rumpled lace bralette, and panties covered in come, with a bashful glint in his eyes – Louis doesn’t dare to guess what is.
“Daddy,” Harry’s broken whimper pulls him out of his reverie, “I’m sorry I came without your permission.”
“Hey,” Louis says, stretching his palm towards his angel’s cheek to wipe the tears, “it’s okay, honey, I didn’t ask you to hold it. It’s okay, you’re okay,” he promises while embracing his boy in his arms.
He knows how sometimes Harry can get a little overwhelmed with how loved he is. Can fall deep enough for the lines to get blurred a little. But it’s okay, he’ll always be okay, because Louis will always be there to catch him, and will never let him fall.
They stay like that for a little while. Embracing each other. Breathing in their combined scents. Just being there, together.
&
When they finally come down for breakfast, it’s 10 am. Which isn’t late per se , but it’s a lot later than Harry is used to. Or more likely, his tummy that keeps grumbling as they descend the stairs.
It seems that today Maria made them crêpes. Which is more than fine with Harry who appears to have a rather large sweet tooth lately.
Maria is their new housekeeper, an elderly lady that took a liking to spoiling Harry as much as she can. Louis can relate. Alice, their late one, was the same. Harry had a very hard time getting accustomed to the fact that she had to die. Louis meanwhile reassured him that 70 years is an honourable age. Yet, he still needed some time to make peace with the passing of the woman that has been to him something akin to a mother for over twelve years. Which, yeah, Louis tries to get that not everyone is so used to being surrounded by death.
“What are your plans for today, kitten?” Louis asks through a mouthful of crêpe Suzette.
He looks up at his husband, beautiful as always. His ivory skin, the shell-pink robe, the chocolate curls framing his cherubic face. How did he end up with such a perfect boy?
“Lou,” Harry starts with a warning edge in his voice, “please, tell me you didn’t forget about our appointment.”
And, oh sweet fuck.
Harry’s watching him like a hawk would watch its prey, which should be laughable considering he’s wearing a satin robe over a pinkish filmy négligée, but at the same time, Louis wouldn’t even think of an attempt to do it, because he indeed forgot. Fuck , Harry is going to kill him. Harry is going to send the Devil back to the Hell, as a prisoner this time. Is there even a more tragic way to die than to die from the hands of the love of your life?
Louis gulps, and then goes for something akin to a grimace.
“Sweetheart,” he starts, but as soon as he’s ready to form some sort of an excuse, he’s interrupted by Harry’s sniffle.
“No, Louis, don’t even bother. Just admit we’re not important enough for you to actually remember,” he says with a finality, removing the napkin from his lap, taking the last sip of his Chamomile tea, and standing up from his seat.
Louis remains seated, shocked by the level of sureness in Harry’s voice. He really fucked up.
He watches as Harry takes his utensils to the sink, then kisses Maria’s cheek and thanks her for the impeccable breakfast.
He turns towards Louis with a stone-like face, “tell Josh to be ready in thirty, can you do that for me?” he asks with an assessing gaze.
“I, yeah, of course, love,” Louis promises with a slight tremor in his voice.
“Good,” comes the response from the hallway.
And the thing is, it’s not like Louis forgot about the appointment itself. He just, well, he kind of forgot it was today. But he feels like he’s not welcome to join anymore. Which stings, to say the least.
“Fuck,” he groans as he gets up and heads for a smoke. It’s not like it’s going to kill him, anyway.
&
He can’t believe that his husband indeed forgot about the appointment. Harry knows that it’s only a check-up on which, to be exact, Louis insisted. But still, he is a little bit terrified to do this alone. To be left alone.
And yes, Harry knows he overreacted a bit, but well, what’s done is done. And he doesn’t feel like changing his mind either way. At least for now.
He dries his tears while assessing his appearance in the en-suite’s mirror, decides on wearing something that will feel good, that will add him a little bit of courage. His white bell bottoms and a sheer lilac blouse should do the trick.
With his hair up in a messy bun, he takes his flowery Dior Lady bag, and with one last glance in the mirror, he deems himself ready to face the world. On his own, it seems.
&
Louis’s breath catches as he watches Harry descend the mahogany stairs. He has to lean on against the wall of the entryway, just to not topple over.
“Love, you-” he starts, but is quickly interrupted.
“Don’t bother,” Harry says without even looking at him. He just juts his chin out and heads towards the main door, which closes after him with a bang.
And there’s silence.
After a while of being glued to the same spot, Louis startles when something touches his bare toes. He looks down, and breathes out when he sees it’s only Veritas.
But his calm doesn’t last long, as Veritas seems to be looking at him with a judgment clear in her eyes.
“Oh, sod off, I know I fucked up, okay?”
And with that, he’s gone.
&
“Good Morning, Josh,” Harry greets the driver that is holding open the door to the moonlight blue Audi A8 waiting for him.
“Good Morning, Mr Tomlinson,” Josh responds with a blinding smile, “aren’t we waiting for your husband?” he inquires after a bit when the mansion door remains closed.
“Darling,” Harry starts with the kindest voice he can muster right now, “I am the husband, the wife, and I guess I am all of them. So, shall we?”
Josh just nods, and gives him a reassuring smile while closing the door.
“So, where are we going, Mr. Tomlinson?”
“The Portland Hospital,” Harry says looking out of the window trying to avoid the inquisitive gaze of Josh.
&
Just as he hears the sounds of the engine roaring to life, he realises what Harry said earlier – we’re not important enough for you. We. And what ?
His mind short-circuits.
The next thing he knows, he’s taking off through the patio, kitchen, and hallway, but when he opens the main door, the car containing his boy with meadow-like eyes is gone.
So he runs upstairs, grabs the first things he sees – a black slacks and a deep green polo shirt – and takes off towards the garage.
If his ability of reading between the lines his husband so carefully sawn is as good as he deems it is, he can’t let Harry do this on his own. He can’t. And he won’t.
&
“So, Mr Tomlinson, what brings you to us today?” the doctor – Amahle Dlamini, as her tag says – asks with a kind smile.
Harry instantly relaxes looking into her eyes, hearing the gentle way she phrases her words. He can feel the tender-heartedness coming out of her. It puts him at ease.
“Please, doctor, Harry is fine,” he says with a shyness in his voice, collecting the shreds of courage to voice his concerns.
Just as he’s about to tell her what he’s doing here, there is a raucous commotion outside the door.
They both look towards the entrance when the door flies open and there is Louis, standing in the doorway with a little scowl marring his face.
Harry is momentarily lost in these beautiful icy eyes that melt upon spotting him. In the disarray of the feather-like hair sticking in every direction. In the fact that he is here.
Louis opens his mouth to say something when someone from the security grabs him by his arm and states in a definite voice that he shouldn’t be here.
But the Devil has his eyes focused solely on Harry, not even flinching when the other people are trying to move him, and all it takes is for Harry to nod, to give him the permission to come in. Because Louis won’t do it without Harry’s permission. Never.
But it wasn’t enough for the nurses that called for the security.
So Harry gets up, moves towards the door, not breaking eye contact with Louis, and states, “Maybe someone ought to ask me if I wish for my husband to be here, don’t you think, darling?” he asks pointedly, then turning towards the doctor with an unambiguous stare.
“Oh, of course, Mr Tomlinson, pardon us,” she says with an agitated edge in her voice, then she looks at the security and adds, “you’ve heard my patient.”
And just like that, they find themselves sitting across the desk of doctor Dlamini, holding hands and explaining what brought them here.
“I’ve been–” Harry starts just as Louis opens with, “he’s been feeling sick lately.”
They look at each other and it seems like the tension is leaving their bodies with the private smile they share. In an instance it feels like there is more air in the room, more sunshine peeking through the windows, more calmness in Harry's heart.
“Go on, hun,” says Harry, curious himself how Louis will phrase it.
“You sure?” he asks. When Harry gives him a small confirming nod, he considers his next words and states, “my love was feeling a little sick lately. Nothing major, just some upset tummy here and there. He also started preferring sweets, especially for breakfast, which is a novelty considering his savory-breakfast rule. And,” Louis takes a little breather to brace himself for the possible negative outcome, “he’s been a little moody lately. More than usual,” he finishes quickly.
“I was not,” Harry counters with a pout evident in his voice, looking down at their tangled hands resting on his lap.
“You’ve so been, angel,” he says with a little chuckle, and a kiss to his husband’s cheek, “but it’s okay. I love all of your versions.”
“Okay, maybe you’re right, but just a little,” he agrees with a twinkle in his eyes. Completely enamoured with his husband.
“Just a little,” Louis agrees with a little peck to Harry’s nose.
“So, gentlemen, considering you’ve chosen this place, I’d guess you know already, don’t you?” the doctor asks, trying to stop their little reverie.
“Well,” Louis says while scratching his neck with his free hand just to do something, “I have my suspicions after Harry’s slip up this morning.”
She looks curious at Harry then. And now it’s his time to grow shy.
“I– I might’ve done some phlebotomy last week,” he starts quite tentatively, watching as Louis’s head jerks up at that, “and yeah, I’d say I know, for sure. And– and the nurse told me you’d have the results in my files, so you can check on your own.”
Doctor Dlamini nods and gets to do just that. Meanwhile Harry chances a glance at Louis and immediately feels a twist in his stomach. Louis looks disappointed. Does it mean he doesn’t –
“Don’t ever think about it, Styles,” Louis says when he feels Harry trying to extract his hand.
“It’s Tomlinson.”
Harry’s response is automatic, but makes Louis’s mouth corners quirk up a bit. Good.
“I’m disappointed, but not with the fact that you’re clearly pregnant. I could never. Even when I’m not so sure how it is even possible,” Louis murmurs the last thing only for Harry to hear, “I’m rather sad you’ve decided to do that on your own.”
And the thing is, Harry can’t even argue with that. He knew at the time that Louis will end up upset with him. But it was such a shock to him when he finally realised what it is that he needed to check on his own. Mostly in case he’d end up doing it all on his own.
“But I love you, okay? I’ll always love you, baby,” Louis reassures his husband.
And how could Harry not completely adore this man beside him? He shuts his eyes and nods.
“Okay, I’ve gone through the results and it appears that you’re indeed pregnant, Harry. Do you want me to guide you through your options?” the doctor asks.
“Options? Uh– Oh, oh. Options. No, no, I’m keeping the baby,” he reassures while tightly clutching Louis’s hand in his.
“Yeah, okay, I thought so, but the protocol requires me to ask either way. So, what would you say to an USG?”
Harry looks wide-eyed at Louis who gives an affirming nod and adds, “Whatever you want baby, yeah?”
“Yeah,” Harry says to Louis and then turns towards the patient doctor with a little grin, “yeah, we would like that, please.”
“Great, if you could just lay down, there,” she says, pointing to the medical exam table in the corner of her spacious office, “roll your trousers down, and your chemise up, please.”
“Of course,” he responds, already standing up and heading towards the table with Louis’ hand on the small of his back.
“I see I’ve run out of gloves. If you could give me a second,” says the doctor, already moving towards the doorway.
“Yes, naturally,” answers Louis while turning back to his shaken husband, “hey, honey bunny, it’s okay. Let me help you with that, yeah?” he asks while gesturing towards Harry’s trembling hands.
Harry manages a meak nod and lets go of the buttons of his pants.
Louis’ fingers are a lot steadier as he takes his time unbuckling Harry’s belt, unbuttoning the pants and rolling them down a little, to the point where he spots Harry’s white lace panties. He brings his thumb up to slide over the delicate garment and Harry’s breath hitches. Louis looks up at him and finds his husband already looking down at him with his trusting doe eyes.
He observes how Harry hitches his blouse up and bears with that his tummy. The little pouch is hardly noticeable, easy to mistake with food baby, really. But now, when they know it’s there, everything feels different. Louis leans towards Harry’s belly and feels the heat radiating off of his skin. He brings his palm up to place over the little protruding bump, smiles, and says, “hello, little pea, I just want you to know you’re already so loved by your daddies.”
He looks up when he hears a sniffle, and just like that, Harry’s crying.
Louis gets up and takes his husband into his arms. After a while, when Harry’s breath evened out, he hears Harry mumbling something into his collarbone.
“What was that, love?” Louis asks while trying to maintain eye contact with the beautiful boy in his arms.
“I just– not daddies,” Harry offers.
And oh .
It seems like today’s a day of changes.
Louis had his suspicions, but he prefers to let Harry set the speed at which the things are moving.
“What would you like to be called then, angel?”
Harry lifts his head and smiles at Louis. And his smile is so warm. If Louis could get burnt, he already would have been dead. It’s a good thing he rules the land of flames, then.
“A mum,” Harry states, and then adds in a rush, “I don’t think my pronouns would change though, maybe not now at least. But I’d like to be a mum, and,” he takes a deep breath, “and a wife,” he confirms Louis’s suspicions with closed eyes.
“Hey, baby, let me see those beautiful emeralds,” he prompts while stroking Harry’s check, “here we go, love. It’s okay. We’re okay. We can talk about it later if you’d like, but just so you know, I love you, yeah? All of you.”
He gets the most beautiful smile in response. Along with both dimples and twinkling eyes. And it is enough. They’re alright. It’ll be alright.
They’re lost in the moment, so the both of them startle as the doctor comes back to the room.
“Excuse me, gentlemen, but there was a little emergency with one of my patients. But now, as everything’s sorted, we can proceed,” she concludes with an apologetic smile.
“It was no bother, don’t worry,” Louis answers truthfully.
&
“So, what was the reason for this impromptu meeting, Louis?” Zayn nearly shouts while entering the mansion.
“Good thing you heard about knocking, brother,” Louis calls from the kitchen.
He’s currently standing in-between Harry’s spread legs, where his love is situated at the kitchen counter, eating strawberries.
The appointment went well, mostly. The doctor put a little damper on Harry’s enthusiasm when she’d announced that his pregnancy is considered a geriatric one. Thankfully she added that he’s in a good state so he shouldn’t worry.
“Sorry Lou, I told him, but you know he never listens,” comes Liam’s answer.
“You know we aren’t actually related, right, brother ?”
“Yep,” replays unbothered Louis, still glued to his spot, not taking his eyes off of Harry’s shell-pink lips biting into the juicy strawberry, “if we were, though, your relationship with Liam wouldn’t be possible, would be Zaynie?” Louis tears his gaze away from the sin-worthy sight of his spouse’s tongue poking out to lick the juice from his upper lip just in time to see Liam situating himself on Zayn’s lap.
Liam’s answer is a light blush on his cheeks, while Zayn dignifies Louis’ jeer with an eyeroll.
“But, answering your question, Zayn, there is indeed a reason why we called you lot here tonight,” Louis concludes with a serious look on his face.
“Uh-oh, something’s wrong?” asks worried Liam, focusing his gaze on Harry who hadn’t said even a single word, “Harry?”
Harry’s gaze snaps at the mention of his name. He tries for a smile but looking at the worry etched on the faces of his friends, he didn’t succeed.
“No,” Louis assesses, “at least we don’t think so, but let’s wait for Niall, he should be–”
“Oi, where is my favourite cupcake and his Devil?” comes the shout from the lobby.
“Right,” Louis muses fighting a smile, “he’s here.”
“In the kitchen,” drums Harry.
“Oh, here you are, beauty,” Niall says while hugging Harry, “and the beast,” he adds while embracing Louis.
Louis should be cross, but Harry’s giggle every time Niall says that, weakens his resolve.
“Oh, and the Angel of Death, and the Angel of Life,” Niall cackles while spotting Zayn and Liam, “what happened this time? It feels like a family reunion with this whole entourage that you collected here, Louis. Or just Christmas, didn’t we have Christmas a few months ago, cupcake?”
“We did,” reaffirms Harry, “but what with the names, Ni? Should I call you the Angel of Righteousness from now on?”
“You? Never, H, but if your Devil will be looking like that at me any longer, he might as well,” Niall states without his usual playfulness present in his voice.
Harry turns towards Louis, still in the spot near the counter, boring his gaze into Niall. The thing is, his eyes are aflame. Oh no.
“Hey, Lou, look at me,” pleads Harry standing in the way of Louis’ line of sight.
Nothing.
“Honey, will you look at me? Please,” Harry tries again, now caressing Louis’ regal jaw.
The touch always works. Or worked. Because Louis won’t tear his flaming eyes away.
Just when Harry opens his mouth to say something, anything , Louis states with a steely expression, “y’know, flower, he’s right.”
And what ?
“What? Who’s right, Lou?”
“Niall. He’s right. You’re the beauty. I’m the beast. I’m not near as beautiful on the inside nor the outside, as you’re, my love. And now this,” Louis finishes with a dismissing gesture towards Harry’s stomach.
“This? Did you just refer to our child as this ?” Harry asks with disbelief clear in his voice.
“Okay, let’s give them a minute, guys,” Liam, always the peacemaker, says while urging Zayn and Niall to the living room.
“I can’t believe this,” Harry murmurs, “firstly you forget about the appointment, then you do a scene at the clinic, and now you’re dismissing our unborn child?”
“Because you won’t listen to me,” Louis says with a slightly raised voice, “from the fucking beginning, I was telling you that this – we – shouldn’t happen. You’re such a pure person, Harry. Your soul is so kind, so crystal-clear. I don’t understand why someone like you would want to be with someone like me? The King of Sins, the fucking Fallen Angel.”
“Oh my Goddess, sometimes there’s nothing more I crave than to strangle you, you idiot. You are the one that isn’t listening, for fuck’s sake,” Harry states while jabbing Louis’s chest with his index, “y’know the literal meaning of life is making choices that prevent you from killing yourself. And believe it or not, you twat, but I have a faith that there was a purpose in me trying to take my life away all those years ago, just like there was a meaning behind you rescuing me, taking care of me, opening your heart to me. You, of all creatures on this damn Earth, were put on my path. You’re the fucking choice. You became my choice. You became my reason to try. Your love became my source of life. I wouldn’t be here without you, you fucking dickhead,” Harry ends with a sob.
He feels lightheaded, like he’s about to faint. His head is spinning and the next thing he knows, he wakes up with a bile in his throat.
He takes away towards the en-suite, kneeling in front of the toilet and emptying the contents of his stomach.
It takes a minute before he feels someone tying his hair into a bun.
“It’s okay, little dove,” his husband soothes, “let it all out.”
Harry immediately relaxes under Louis’s touch but then he remembers their previous encounter. It isn’t often that they fight, so it always leaves a bitter aftertaste.
“Just so you know, I’m still cross with you,” Harry chances between heaves, “but thank you.”
“Always so polite, my precious baby,” Louis answers with a teasing lilt, “but yeah, I know.”
“Good.”
&
“How are you feeling, Harry?” comes the concerned voice of Zayn who has noticed him first upon exiting the doorway.
He and Liam stand near the outdoor fireplace that emits the cracking sound of burning wood, while Niall occupies the smaller sofa, busy petting a very content Veritas.
After Harry emptied his stomach to the ceramic bowl of the toilet in their en-suite, he brushed his teeth and decided to join their little family at the patio.
The May sun isn’t as harsh yet, and considering it’s almost 6 p.m. he feels good with the idea of putting himself outdoors.
Louis’s still glued to his side, yet he’s strangely quiet.
As much as Harry vows himself to be an independent person, he can’t imagine a life without his husband. His greatest supporter. The love of his life. The reason for his existence.
He doesn’t want to think what would be left of him now if they hadn’t rescued him all those years ago – thirteen to be exact.
He knows he wouldn’t be here, that’s for sure.
And he couldn’t be more grateful that they were put on his path, he thinks as glances upwards, sending a silent thank you towards Heaven.
“Honey?” comes Louis’s voice from his right side. He feels his husband’s hand on the small of his lower back, and then, “are you alright? You won’t faint again, will you? Maybe you should sit down, love?”
And Harry can only nod, feeling overwhelmed with the emotions. What’s happening with him? Oh. Yeah. Right. He’s pregnant.
It's almost unconscious how he puts his hand under his belly button. He can’t stop himself. He always wanted a child – children, to be precise.
“So, are we going to talk about the elephant in the room or?” asks Niall this time.
“Well–” starts Harry at the same time as Louis’s “we have already talked about the probability, sun.”
“Okay,” Harry drawles, collecting his thoughts, “and? Are you going to tell me what explanation you’ve come up with?”
This time Liam is the first one to break the silence. His soothing voice in a full force, measured steps approaching Harry like he’s a frightened doe ready to run for the hills.
“In the history of angels, there wasn’t even one case of a human bearing an angel’s child. Me, out of all, would know about it. Angels can’t impregnate humans, and the same the other way around.”
“Well, clearly that changed, because our child is very real,” Harry ends up with a scoff.
“Not necessarily, Harry,” placates Zayn who is now standing besides his husband, pulling him in, “there is this thing we were discussing lately–”
Harry glares at Louis.
“What thing regarding me were you discussing lately, Louis?”
“The fact that–” Zayn tries to appease looking between the two.
“Excuse me, Zayn, but I’d like to hear it from my husband,” Harry states with a raised palm, as if to stop Zayn’s words with this gesture.
“You can’t say you didn’t notice, love,” answers Louis.
“Didn’t notice what?” questions Harry with a perplexed look written all over his face.
“How old are you, H?”
“What does it matter? It has nothing to do with–”
He gets cut off by Louis.
“But it does matter. Because you’re thirty-five yet you don’t look a day older than when I first saw you, thirteen years ago,” Louis ends with an exasperated sigh.
Harry feels himself almost self-consciously reaching to touch his cheek, as if to prove Louis wrong.
“What are you implying, Louis?” Harry asks timidly with a frightened tremble to his voice.
“Little dove, hey, it’s okay,” Louis smiles while reaching his palm to stroke Harry’s jaw, putting his thumb right where Harry’s dimple ought to appear, should he smile, “it’s nothing to worry about, yeah?”
“Yeah,” Harry answers, not taking his eyes off of his husband’s irises full of calming waves of blue ocean.
“We think that you’ve become one of us,” Louis says, still calmingly stroking Harry’s cheek.
“One of us?” Harry asks dumbly, “oh. Oh . You mean an angel?”
“Yes,” came the answers of Zayn and Liam at the same time.
“There were a few people that became angels, should their souls be pure enough,” adds Niall from his place on the loveseat, stroking Veritas between her ears.
“Right,” Harry nods, trying to take it all in, “can I ask how, exactly?”
“The night you were trying to take your life away, Harry,” Zayn concludes, “we’ve believed that you didn’t drown. Didn’t cross the line. But you did. That’s why– that’s why I was summoned.”
“Wait, are you trying to tell me that I died?” Harry asks, looking pointedly at his husband, “I died and became an angel? The Angel of what exactly?”
“We aren’t sure, love, but that’s the only explanation of your state,” Louis says while placing his hand on Harry’s stomach.
Harry nods, unable to make something out of his distraught thoughts, placing his hands atop Louis’s, letting his eyes flutter closed, overwhelmed again.
“But no matter what, H, we’ve got you, and we will find out the truth,” assures Niall.
“I know, Ni,” murmurs Harry while leaning his head on Louis’s shoulder.
As if Louis is reading his mind, he grabs Harry by his waist and brings him closer. Always closer.
Just as Harry feels his eyelids drooping, there’re pads of Louis’s fingers tracing between his shoulder blades – tenderly, as if searching for hidden wings.
They will be okay. They are okay. As long as they’re together, everything’s fine.