Chapter Text
"And what'd you do after you got sandwiches?" Harry asks, very patiently, as Sophie trails off from her fascinating story about ham and cheese toasties.
Sophie hums thoughtfully, and Nick adjusts the laptop so Harry can see her better. Harry gives him a quick smile.
"We walked to the park with Piggy," she says. "And in the park I saw a spider and daddy got scared. And I picked it up in my hand and daddy nearly cried."
"I did not- nearly cry, Soph."
"He screamed like baby Alex," Sophie giggles.
"Your dad's a bit of a wimp sometimes, Soph," Harry says, huffing out a laugh. "Aren't you, Grim?"
"Not participating in this abuse."
Sophie digs her head into Nick's side like a little animal, and Nick pets her tangled hair - it'll need a comb through it soon - and leans down to kiss her forehead.
"I miss you," Harry says, looking unsurprisingly misty-eyed. Christ, and Nick hasn't even told him yet. "I miss both of you."
"Miss you too, daddy," Sophie mumbles. "When're you coming home?"
"Next week. Tuesday. Nick, you're picking me up, right?"
"Flight comes in at five, yeah?"
"Yeah."
"Then yes. I'll be there. Maybe we'll both be there, huh? You want to see daddy at the airport?"
They don't usually, cos of paps, but Harry's been gone for nearly three weeks now and Sophie's missed him terribly. She's old enough now to properly care that her dad is gone.
"Yes!" Sophie chirps, throwing her arm around Nick's waist. "I wanna come and get daddy at the airplane."
Harry laughs, and Nick looks up at him. "We'll both be there, then."
"Good." Harry smiles at him. He looks tired. It's been long days and nights in studio, trying to get three months of work done in three weeks. "Can't wait to see you."
"You either, Haz." Nick tugs Sophie onto his lap, gives her a kiss and sets her down. "Sophs, can you go watch telly for a tiny bit? I need to talk to daddy."
"But I want-"
"Soph, please."
Sophie pouts, but she turns to go, and Nick hears her footsteps pounding down the hall to the living room.
"See you soon, my love!" Harry calls, and then he yawns hugely, scrubs a hand through his hair. "Christ, I'm so-"
"Knackered. You look it. Poor rockstar."
"It's fine, it's - it's good, y'know. Just want to get home."
Nick nods. His stomach's quivering nervously.
"I should probably get in the shower," Harry says, yawning again. He cracks a grin. "It's been a while."
"Eurgh," Nick says automatically, nose wrinkling. "Glamorous. Yeah, you probably - can I, um - can I tell you something first, though."
Harry looks up. "Yeah?"
Ohh, god. Alright. Nick swallows very hard.
"I- I know this is, um. God. I wish I didn't have to tell you over Skype, but I can't- I can't wait til you're, um. I just can't wait. Shit." Nick puts his hands over his face.
"Nick." Harry sounds utterly terrified. "What is it?"
Nick uncovers his face, looks right into Harry's wide green eyes, miles and miles away, all the way across the ocean.
"I'm pregnant," he says. "Uhh. Again."
Harry stays perfectly still for a moment, and then his mouth curves up, slowly and sweetly, his eyes starting to crinkle.
"Are you joking," he says breathlessly.
"Nope. No. Actually knocked-up. Took the - the test today." Nick's voice is shaking. "Been puking all week. I'm thinking it was that time in Berlin with those weird German all-natural condoms, I didn't trust those-"
"Oh my god," Harry chokes out. "Oh my god. Oh my god, thank God, thank God-" His head drops, and Nick stares at him warily.
"Is that, are those good thank-Gods, or-"
Harry lifts his face again, and he's crying. Nick's chest clenches hard.
"I'm so happy, fuck," Harry gasps, wiping his eyes with his fingers. "Shit, I'm sorry, I know I'm crying again. It's good tears. M'so fucking happy. I'm so tired, Nick, I'm delirious, I'm - so. So we're - oh my god. I mean, you- you're happy?"
Complicated question. Nick's - getting there.
"Yeah," he says, because Harry deserves that from him. "I'm - I'm fully scared. I'm like really scared cos I didn't think it'd happen and it's - it's scary. But I mean-"
Harry blinks at him, watery-eyed, looking weak and in awe. Nick did miss that kind of look, a bit. The way Harry watched him before Sophie was born.
"I'm happy," Nick says, coughing to clear the lump in his throat. “Course I’m happy.”
"Sophie's gonna have a little - a little sister or brother," Harry says, voice shaking, and then he sobs again, into the crook of his elbow. "Oh my god."
"Christ, you're so leaky. Pull it together."
"I know." Harry sniffs in hard. "Soz. I'm just, like. Have you told anyone?"
"Umm, Daisy," Nick says. "And Aimee and Ian and Henry."
"Jesus, was I last on the list?" Harry says, huffing out a laugh.
"Sooorry." Nick makes an apologetic face. "I love you?"
"Love you too," Harry says, sniffling again. "Fuck. Nick, we're gonna have a baby."
Nick chokes out a laugh. "I know."
"It's mental," Harry whispers.
"Done alright with the first one, I think."
"Only alright." Harry grins at him.
"After this one, I'm done, alright? Actually and completely done. Business is closed."
"You know, there's this telly program in America about a family with twenty children-"
"Shut it."
They laugh at each other for a moment. Harry's eyes are red and tired, and Nick's sure he doesn't look much better himself.
"God, I love you," Harry says, voice low.
Nick can feel his face heat up. Embarrassing. That's his actual husband, he shouldn't still be blushing over declarations of love.
"Are you freaked out?" Harry asks softly.
Nick chews his lip. "Does it make me a bad person to say yes?"
"No." Harry huffs out a breath. "You're not a bad person."
"It's just so, like. Much. I keep thinking about- about all the stuff that needs to - and then labor, Haz, like. It was so awful the first time."
"I know."
"I don't want that to happen again," Nick says, voice thick. Oh shit. He is not bloody crying on Skype. "I don't want to- to lose all that blood and everything. It really fucking hurt."
"I know, love."
"I'm scared." Nick's throat is burning.
"God, I know. I know. It's alright."
Nick fumbles for a tissue and scrubs at his eyes.
"Sorry," he mutters. "I was fucking insufferable for a while, with Sophie. You didn't even see the worst of it. Can't believe I've still got all my friends, honestly."
Harry hums quietly. "Nick."
Nick peers up at him.
"There's nothing you could do that's gonna make me leave you or not love you," Harry says, slowly, deliberately. "Alright? Let's just get that out of the way."
Nick swallows.
"Remember what I said?" Harry asks, smiling, eyes watery. "If it happened again, I'd be there for every minute. I promise you."
"Why the fuck're you in LA, then," Nick says, lightly.
Harry's face falls just slightly.
"I'll come home," he says. "Right now. Sod the album."
"Oh god, Haz, you don't have to, I was only joking. Trust me, all I'm doing is puking right now. It's not pretty."
"I'm coming home. At least so you don't have to be watching Soph all the time. Have some time to puke in peace, or whatever."
"Harry-"
"Grim."
Nick gusts out a sigh.
"We can talk more when I'm back," Harry says quietly. "You haven't told Soph, have you?"
Nick laughs. "No. Might need your help on that."
"Yeah, wait for me. Please." Harry starts smiling again, dazed and helpless. "God, I can't wait to tell her. Tell everyone."
"That we're really bloody careless?"
"That we're happy," Harry says, mouth tugging up at the corner. "And yeah, a bit careless."
"Those fucking German condoms."
"Grim, it could've been my birthday, weren't we out of condoms and you said-"
"Okay, that wasn't my-"
"You said not to worry!"
"I told you to pull out before you-"
"You did not tell me to pull out. I would've bloody pulled out."
Nick chokes out a laugh, and startles when the bedroom door creaks open again. It's Sophie, standing there in a pair of pants and naught else, scratching her belly. Nick looks at her confusedly.
"Where've your clothes gone, darling?"
"Was hot."
"You were- oh my god. Haz, I've got to run, Sophie's decided to moonlight as a stripper."
"Whassa stripper?"
"Nothing, Soph," Nick says, snorting. He turns the computer so Harry can see Sophie in the doorway. "Say goodbye to your daddy, darling."
Sophie runs up to the computer and kisses the camera. "Bye daddy!"
"Bye, love," Harry says, voice muffled by Sophie's cheek pressed to the speaker. "Love you."
"Love you," Sophie sighs.
"See you soon, Haz. Text me when you get a flight."
"I will," Harry repeats. "I'll do it now. See you soon."
Nick shuts the computer.
Sophie crawls promptly into his lap. "Dad?"
"Yes, love," Nick says, standing up and hoisting her on his hip. She puts her arms around his neck. God, where'd she put her clothes? If Pig's got to them Nick's going to have a fit. She was wearing bloody Burberry today.
"Can we have spaghetti for tea?"
Nick thinks about it, nudging the door open with his free hand. "Hmmmm."
Sophie pouts in his face. "Please, daddy."
"Do we have spaghetti?"
"Yes," Sophie says confidently. "We have lots."
Nick laughs, and sighs relievedly as he finds her dress crumpled up in the corner of the sofa. He sets her down and picks up the dress, shakes out the wrinkles.
"I'll look and see, love. Now put this back on, please."
Sophie whines as Nick wrestles it over her head, but once it's on she just tugs at it for a minute and then takes off towards the kitchen.
"Careful, please!" Nick calls. "Don't slip!"
They don't have spaghetti, but they do have penne, which is Sophie's second favorite. Nick sits them down at the table, almost immediately wishes he'd let Sophie keep her clothes off, as she drops a glob of tomato sauce down the front of her dress. Just as messy as her dad.
"Sophhhh," Nick laughs, leaning behind her to scrub at the stain with a wet towel.
"Oops," Sophie says, sighing heavily. "I spilled again."
"You silly girl." Nick kisses the side of her head. "Tuck this napkin in your dress, alright? That'll keep you nice and clean."
"Kay."
Nick tosses the towel in the sink, looks over to where Sophie's happily stuffing her face with penne, unbothered by her dress mishap. Was easier before, wasn't it, when all she wanted was milk. Nick didn't have to cook, or do dishes, or get tomato out of designer clothing. Just took his shirt off and let her at it.
Good Christ, Nick's doing that again. All of it. He'll have another one just like that. Nick clutches the counter with one hand as his knees nearly go.
"Sophie," he says, voice wobbly. Sophie looks up, chewing, cheeks bulged out like a squirrel.
"Wha?"
"I love you," Nick says. "Just so you know. I love you very very much and you're my favorite person in the entire world."
Sophie keeps chewing. "Kay, daddy."
Nick chokes a laugh, and turns to the stove so she won't see him cry. She's too little yet to get when it's happy crying and not sad.
---
True to his word, Nick's at the airport with Sophie, who bursts out of the backseat of the cab and runs towards Harry as he drags himself and his bags outside into the damp London spring.
"Daddy!" she yells, and Harry grins when he sees Nick sliding out of the backseat to chase her, laughing.
"Hii, hi, hi," Harry says, muffling it in Sophie's neck as he swings her off her feet. "Oh, I missed you. I missed you, hello, my love."
"There he is," Nick says, sliding one of Harry's bags off his shoulder. "Welcome home, rockstar."
Harry leans in to kiss Nick's smiling mouth, and it only hits him once they've pulled apart, Nick already turning back to the car. He stares at Nick's familiar back, breathing gone ragged and difficult for a minute, like someone's knocked the wind out of him. Nick's pregnant. A baby, another- another baby, inside him.
Somehow it didn't feel real til right now. Harry notices someone taking his photo - or, wait, three people - and he shakes himself, hurries to the car.
Sophie chatters the whole way home, telling Harry all about preschool, sat in her carseat with her legs kicking. Harry grabs one of her warm sturdy ankles, squeezes, and on the seat next to him, Nick takes his hand.
Harry looks over at him, bemused. Nick's smiling faintly out the window, but his fingers are lacing through Harry's, slim and warm.
"Daddy," Sophie says impatiently. "Daddy! I said I saw a bluebird outside school and then Miss Emily said I could draw a picture of it so I drew a picture of it and daddy put it on the refrigerator."
"That's great," Harry says, huffing a laugh. "I can't wait to see it."
"Isn't it good, daddy?"
"Oh, it's brilliant." Nick squeezes Harry's hand, tips his head to the side and smiles at him. "You've got a natural talent, Sophs."
Sophie preens. "Daddy, when I get home I want to draw a picture of the airplane that daddy was on."
Nick laughs again, and Harry laughs back. Up close Nick looks tired but happy, satisfied exhaustion settled in every line on his familiar face. Harry missed him awfully. He grips Nick's hand again, hard.
"Daaaddy! I want to draw a picture of the airplane!"
"That's a great idea, my darling," Nick says dutifully, not taking his eyes off Harry's, dark and amused. "We'll get out the coloring stuff when we're home."
"Genius, love," Harry adds, and Nick snorts, leans forward to kiss him.
They have a mini-snog right there in the backseat, quiet and soft, while Sophie stares out the window and comments loudly on everything they pass. Perks of being a dad, innit, that Harry's learned to tune her out. Or- not tune her out, that sounds horrible. Harry always listens to his daughter, of course, and he's never ever dozed off during one of her exhaustive monologues on what she had for snack at preschool. Dad of the year, he is.
Still, he kisses Nick all the way home.
---
Harry comes awake slowly, grinning when he realizes where he is. Home, in bed. Thank God.
Nick's on his side with his back to Harry, tangled up in white sheets. Harry watches him sleepily for a while, eventually reaches out to touch the tiny tattoo on the back of his shoulder. 6.2.18. Sophie's birthday. Harry has the same one, in the same place.
Harry drags his finger below the tattoo, thumbs gently over where the next one will go.
"Mm," Nick mumbles, shifting slowly onto his back, and Harry slides a hand over his belly as he turns. "Morning."
"Morning." Harry palms over Nick's nipple, stiff and pink, and Nick sucks in a breath.
"Cheeky," he whispers, half-indignant, as he catches Harry's mouth in a kiss.
Harry pulls away, kissing Nick's shoulder, then his neck. He rests there for a moment, just breathing, keeping his hand spread flat on Nick's stomach.
"You're pregnant," he says, against Nick's warm skin.
Nick huffs a laugh Harry can feel. "Yep."
"We're having another baby." Harry hasn't said it out loud yet. The words come out shaky.
Nick sighs slowly, hand sliding up Harry's back into his hair. "Seems so, Haz."
"God, this is- mental." Harry grins, shakes his head. "Mental."
"I know." Nick sighs again. "I'd say I can't believe it only I've been puking all week so it all feels very, very real."
"D'you- d'you have to now?" Harry says, pulling back. "How're you feeling?"
"Already did," Nick says wryly. "You didn't hear me sicking my guts up at like, half six?"
"Shit, I'm sorry. I'm so bloody jetlagged."
"Oh, it's alright." Nick yawns wide. "Part of the gig, right. And I brushed my teeth and used mouthwash, so can you say good morning properly or what?"
He tilts his chin up hopefully, and Harry breathes out a laugh and kisses him.
---
"Sophs," Harry says, bouncing her up and down in his lap. She's busily studying a book, tracing her fingers over the pictures. "Babe, can we- Grim, will you grab the-"
Nick takes the book out of her hands, and Sophie looks up, brow wrinkling.
"I wanna read my book!"
"I know, love. I know. Just. We want to tell you something."
Sophie crawls off Harry's lap to fetch her book, and Nick tosses it behind the armchair. She stares at him, betrayed.
"Daddy!"
"Sophie, listen to your dad," Nick says, very obviously trying not to laugh. "God forbid we discourage literacy, seriously, what kind of parents are we- but we've got some news, alright?"
Sophie sighs. "What?"
"Sophie." Harry sniffs in hard, has to reach up to wipe his nose, and Nick kicks his ankle.
"Focus, Styles."
"Sorry. I just. Sophs, listen."
Sophie tips her head back in his arms to look up at him, and Harry nearly gets choked up again, seeing her face.
"Baby," he says, softly. "You're going to be a big sister."
"What?" Sophie's eyes go wide. "What?"
"You're gonna be a big sister," Harry says thickly. "You're going to have a little sister or brother."
"Do you know what that means, Soph?" Nick says, leaning forward. "Darling? You know what that means?"
Sophie is very still.
"You've- you've got a baby inside you," she says, voice small.
Nick nods, eyes dark. "Yeah, I do."
"You've really got a baby- a baby inside?" Sophie asks, clutching at Harry's arm. "Is it really in there?"
"It's really properly in there, love," Nick says, sounding a bit hoarse himself. He coughs. "Are you happy, Soph?"
"It's really in there?" Sophie repeats, her little voice shaking. Harry's not sure if she's about to start crying or laughing.
"It's really in there, Sophie." Nick looks up to catch Harry's eye, and Harry smiles, watery. "I promise, love. It's in my tummy."
Sophie sobs, and Harry jolts into action, spurred on by the sound of her tears as always. "Oh, baby, babe, it's not-
"Nooo, I want daddy," she cries, shoving Harry's hands off and sliding off him, crawling onto Nick's lap. "Daddy, daddy, is there really a baby in there-"
"It's really there, Sophie, I swear," Nick murmurs, sliding his arms around her. "I promise. And in a little while it's going to come out and say hello."
Sophie whimpers. "When?"
"A while, Sophie. Around Halloween. In October."
Sophie burrows her head in Nick's jumper, like she's trying to become part of him. It makes Harry's heart throb. Nick just holds her close, strokes down the back of her head.
"Are you happy, love?"
Sophie nods, cheek pressed to Nick's chest.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," she chokes out.
Harry reaches over for a tissue and scrubs at his nose. Nick looks up at him, lip between his teeth.
"Sorry," Harry chokes. He grabs another tissue. "Just- really happy."
Sophie looks over at him.
"Why're you crying, daddy?" she says tearfully.
"I dunno, love. Cos I'm happy."
"Me too," Sophie whispers, before she puts her face in Nick's chest again.
---
“Daddy,” Sophie whispers in his ear. Nick shifts her on his hip, squinting against the sunlight coming in through the kitchen window.
“What is it, love?”
“I wanna get downnn.”
“I know, Soph. Almost ready. Your dad’s just fetching another, uh, camera thing. Harry?”
“Just a minute!” Harry yells from upstairs. “Sit tight!”
“Dad!” Sophie’s louder now, wriggling in Nick’s arms. “Daddd, I don’t wanna wear this shirt. Dad. Dad. Daddy. Dad-”
“Oh my god, Sophie, please.” Nick pulls her arms around his neck. If he puts her down now she’ll be off like a shot. “Baby. We’ll be done in one minute, I promise.”
Sophie looks less than a minute from bursting into dramatic fake sobs. She pouts at him, and Nick kisses her cheek, looks up.
“Harry,” Nick calls again. “Hurry up!”
“Okay, coming, coming,” Harry says, breathless, as he piles into the kitchen. His bun is going lopsided and he’s carrying a massive camera. “Okay.”
“Daddy, I don’t wanna wear this shirt,” Sophie announces. “Dad-”
“We’re almost done, Soph, I promise,” Nick says, and then to Harry- “Can we go fast? Please? She’s two minutes from a meltdown.”
“Yeah, yes, sorry,” Harry says distractedly, screwing a black tube into the camera and then flicking a button. The camera beeps. “Okay. Get in the light, yeah? A step forward-”
Nick sighs and takes a step forward, eyes screwing shut. Sophie yelps and covers her eyes with her hand.
“It’s bright,” he moans, and Sophie nods pitifully.
“A step back then.” Harry looks at them through the camera. “Go on. Yeah, against the counter. That’s perfect.”
“So the exact place we started,” Nick grumbles, and Harry pauses to give him a flat look above the camera. Nick bites down a laugh.
“Alright. Can you smile big for me, Sophs?”
“No,” Sophie whispers mutinously, and Nick properly laughs, hoisting her up on his hip.
“C’mon, love. We’ll get this over with and have tea.”
Sophie sighs, but she smiles, with all her teeth. Nick’s going to as well, but he looks down at his shirt and says, “Wait.”
Harry lowers the camera. “What?”
“I just- this makes it look like I’m the little sibling. Like it’s stupid.”
“Grim,” Harry says patiently. “I asked you before I ordered the shirt. You thought it was cute.”
“Can’t just Soph wear the shirt?”
“I hate the shirt,” Sophie puts in, arm digging into Nick’s windpipe, and Nick loosens her grip, choking a breath.
“Babe.”
“Daddyyy-”
“Haz, I’m taking the shirt off.”
“Oh my - god,” Harry says, setting the camera down. “Fine. C’mere.”
He plucks Sophie out of Nick’s arms, and Nick tugs the t-shirt over his head, leaving just the henley he slept in. That was the first problem, a t-shirt over a henley. Nick’s gained a half stone already, he doesn’t need more layers.
“I wanna take the shirt off too, daddy,” Sophie whimpers. “Please-”
“No,” Harry says, long-suffering. “In a minute.”
He hands Sophie back over, and Nick props her up on his hip, tugs at her shirt so the camera’ll catch the words on the front.
“There we go,” Harry says. “There we - Sophie, please smile for me.”
Sophie sniffles mournfully and forces a smile.
Harry snaps a few shots, and Nick leans in to blow a raspberry against Sophie’s soft neck. She squeals ticklishly.
“C’mon, doll,” he whispers to her. “Give daddy a nice big happy smile. You’re happy about your baby brother or sister, aren’t you?”
“Yeah,” Sophie says grudgingly.
“Let’s see it then. Silly faces.”
Sophie sticks out her tongue, and Nick laughs.
“Perfect. Silly goose.”
Sophie smiles for real, dimple popping out, and Nick hears the camera click. That one’ll be perfect, he can already tell.
---
“So, who gets to post it?” Nick says later, over their tea of soup and ham sandwiches. Harry pours Sophie a careful glass of milk, trying not to drip as she dances in her chair, singing- I'm thirstyyy I'm thirsty I want some milky-milk-
“There you are,” Harry murmurs, screwing the cap on. “Please don’t spill, my love.”
He looks up at Nick. “Umm, dunno. We both should, right?”
Nick shrugs, sipping his tea. “I want the smiley one.”
“I’ll post the one where you’re looking at each other.” Harry smiles to himself. “I love that one.”
“Alright.”
Sophie keeps eating, spilling a fair amount of soup down her front, while Nick and Harry stare at their respective phones like good parents.
“Alright,” Nick announces. “Done.”
“Wait- already?” Harry looks up, brow furrowing. Nick’s setting his phone on the table. “I haven’t even written a caption.”
“C’mon, grandad. Look, I did a filter and everything. Juno’s the best for my skin tone-”
“You put a filter on your four year old daughter?” Harry laughs. “Jesus.”
Nick pulls a face at him, and turns his attention to Sophie when she accidentally knocks her sandwich onto the table.
Harry peers down at his phone, clicks to see the photo full-size again. Sophie has her tongue out, her Big Sister shirt rumpled but visible, and Nick’s laughing at her, warm and fond. Harry’s heart goes wobbly.
Our family’s growing and we couldnt be happier. I can’t wait to watch my little girl be a big sister. So excited for this journey with @nicholasgrimshaw.
He draws in a shaky breath and hits Post. It takes a moment to pop up, and Harry scrolls down to Nick’s post, snorts when he reads the caption.
“Really, Grim?”
“What?” Nick asks, wiping soup off Sophie’s chin.
Harry shakes his head. Nick’s posted the photo of both him and Sophie grinning at the camera. All Nick wrote was a baby emoji, a pink sparkly heart, a music note, and then - Oops we did it again
Harry likes it with a tap of his thumb.
“Thought we weren’t gonna tell anyone it was an accident.”
“It’s a Britney reference, Harold, calm down,” Nick says absently, mouth full of sandwich.
“What was an accident?” Sophie asks, blinking at both of them.
Harry hides a laugh behind his napkin. “Nothing, love.”
---
Harry shuts the bedroom door quietly behind him, drops his bag on the floor. Nick's on his side, uncovered from the waist up, his mouth open. Sophie's splayed out next to him, hair a curly mess spread over the pillow. Moonlight’s coming through the open curtains, casting them both in a silver glow.
Harry stands over them, staring shamelessly.
Christ, Nick's bigger than he was last week, when Harry left for LA. He's starting to round out gently with the baby inside him, and it makes Harry's heart hurt. It's still hard to believe.
He lets out a long breath, and sinks down to sit on the edge of the bed.
The mattress squeaks, and Harry winces, watching them. Sophie doesn't stir, but Nick's eyes open, and he blinks blearily, patting his hand over his bare belly like he's checking it's still there.
"Hi," Harry says, and Nick startles.
"Hi," he says hoarsely. "God. Didn't see you."
"Sorry."
Nick yawns, flopping a hand out onto Harry's leg. "You're home."
"Yeah, I just got in."
Nick smiles sleepily. "Hi."
Harry laughs, and reaches out to rub Nick's stomach, skin warm and soft under his fingers. "How're you feeling?"
"Mmgh," Nick groans. "Alright. Tired. Sophie's been stroppy."
"Has she?" Harry looks over at her. She looks utterly innocent at the moment, all pink plump cheeks and delicate eyelashes.
"God yes. Had a tantrum when we were doing the shopping." Nick yawns again. "Had to pull her off the floor. Everyone staring at me like I was some evil child abuser."
Harry snorts. "Shit. Sorry."
"Not your fault."
"Should've been here, though." Harry bites his lip.
"Stoppp. Too sleepy for you to feel bad. Wash the airplane smell off you and come to bed, Haz."
"Anything, like- you know-"
"No, I haven't been poorly," Nick says, yawning. "Haven’t even puked all week. It's all been good. Stop worrying, Haz."
Harry leans down to kiss him, relief spreading cool through his chest. Nick smells like toothpaste and aftershave and a hint of Sophie's shampoo, sweet and apple-y.
"Get in bed," Nick mumbles, tugging at Harry’s arm.
"I'll take Sophie to hers."
"Noo," Nick whines, and Harry looks at him, laughing.
"What?"
"I dunno, I like having her and the sprout," Nick says, sounding sheepish. "It's like. We're all together, I dunno, I think it's- it's good for me. Shut up, I know it's-"
"No," Harry says, his heart clenching. "It's fine. But - but not every night, Nick. S'not good for Sophie, she’s got to sleep on her own."
Nick sighs balefully, and puts his face in the pillow. "Fine. Shut up and come to bed, please."
Harry flicks the toilet light off ten minutes later, pulls his hair up into a bun, sighs. Nick's asleep again, breathing deep and even, but Sophie wakes up when Harry crawls into bed.
She mumbles something quiet, and Harry's breath catches. He forgets, sometime, that Sophie's his.
"G'night, love," he whispers, scooting closer to her in bed, and she throws out one arm, sticky-hot hand landing on Harry's neck. Harry kisses her knuckles, puts a thumb against the pulse in her wrist, slow and steady.
Sophie just sighs. Harry holds her hand, small and warm, and slips quickly into sleep.
---
Nick's standing sleepily in front of the toilet to take a morning wee when he feels a clench of pain in his gut, as sudden and sharp as a punch.
"Shit," he mumbles, head spinning. He reaches to brace himself on the wall, but he misses and staggers backward, hands slipping. "Shit!"
He lands firmly on his arse on the tile, yelping in pain. "Jesus bloody-"
"Grim?" Harry nudges the door open. "Oh, fuck, love, you alright?"
"No," Nick mutters. He brushes himself off, and Harry offers him a hand up. "Ugh. Got dizzy for a minute."
"Dizzy?"
"I dunno." Nick straightens up, wipes a hand over his face. "Wasn't anything. Soz, love. Did I wake you?"
"No." Harry yawns, leans down to splash water over his face. "Woke up a few hours ago if I'm honest. Soph's up too. I just keep thinking about today, couldn't sleep."
"Yeah, me too." Nick resettles himself in front of the toilet while Harry grabs for his toothbrush. "Be honest, which- which do you want? C'mon."
Harry makes a protesting sound around the toothbrush, pulling a face at him, and Nick pouts. Yes, he knows Harry's been saying for the last four months that he doesn't care if it's a boy or a girl. He gets that. Of course they won't care. But it's alright to have an opinion.
He nudges Harry aside with his hip and sticks his hands under the tap. "C'mon, Hazza."
Harry spits into the sink, narrowly missing Nick's hands. "I told you already-"
"I know." Nick sighs. "Sorry. You're a better person than me, I get it."
Harry lifts a handful of water to his mouth, spits it back out. "Shut it."
"Just, like." Nick reaches over him for the eye cream. "Can you imagine having a boy? A boy."
"Yeah, I can," Harry says seriously.
"I dunno." Nick stares into the mirror as he pats cream under his eyes. "A boy. Boys are scary."
"You're insane," Harry laughs. "That makes no sense."
"But you love me." Nick presses a kiss to Harry's bare shoulder. His head throbs, a remnant of the weird dizziness from earlier, and he reaches across Harry to grab the paracetamol.
"You feeling alright?"
Nick pops a couple pills, washes them down with a swallow of water. "Fine. Just a little headache."
"You should tell Dr. Sani today. Might as well, as long as we're there."
"Mm," Nick hums, noncommittally. "Maybe."
He ducks out of the toilet before Harry can badger him anymore, laughs when he sees Sophie curled up in the mess of their bedsheets, face poking out from the crumpled white duvet.
"What're you doing, you weirdo? Thought you were eating breakfast."
"I finished," she says, innocently.
"Well, let's get up, love. We're going to the doctor today."
She burrows under the sheets, giggling, and Nick snorts and whips the covers off the bed, grabs for her as she squirms away.
"Daddy!"
"C'mon, my darling."
"I don't wanna go."
"We've got to." Nick hoists her up on his hip. He feels a wave of vertigo and he sucks in a sharp breath, clutching her closer so he doesn't fall right over. "Jesus."
She doesn't notice the stagger in his step, just slings her arms around his neck.
"Alright," Nick says, shaking himself. "Downstairs now. Did you eat all your brekkie?"
She puts her chin on his shoulder. "Almost."
"Almost?"
"Yeah."
Nick sighs, picking his way down the stairs, careful not to step on a discarded puzzle piece. He's got no idea why Harry keeps buying bloody puzzles. Sophie hates them and Pig's chewed up about a dozen pieces already. "Can you eat the rest of it, please?"
"It's cold now, daddy."
"I'll heat it up."
"Nooo," Sophie moans into his ear. "I'm not hungry."
Nick rolls his eyes. "Alright, love."
"Can I give it to Piggy?"
"No, love." Nick sets her down, straightens up with a groan. "Piggy doesn't eat human food, we talked about this."
"Yes, she does. She will if you give it to her. She loves it!"
"And how d'you know that, young lady? Since I told you never to give her any."
Sophie claps a hand over her mouth, eyes going wide. Ever the dramatic. "Oops," she says, muffled.
Nick laughs, starts to clear the table. Sophie only ate about half her porridge, but Harry makes it all healthy with barely any sugar and chia seeds and shite. Nick wouldn't finish it either.
Harry clatters down the stairs ten minutes later, jangling his keys. "We ready?"
"Let's do it."
---
"God," Harry chokes, an hour later, clutching Sophie to him. "Oh my god. Nick."
"Again?" Nick asks Dr. Sani, as she smiles, sonogram in hand. He's weird-crying a bit, some kind of automatic reaction. Harry's squeezing his knee with one hand. "Are you sure?"
"It's not entirely conclusive, but it's close."
"Jesus," Nick breathes. He scrubs at his eyes, and Sophie crawls onto his lap. "Oh, god. Hi, hi, darling."
"I'm gonna have a little sister?" Sophie says, reaching for the paper in Dr. Sani's hand. Dr. Sani hands it over and Sophie peers at it like she's got any idea how to read. "What's this say? Daddy, what's it say?"
"It says we're having a girl," Harry says, voice watery. "Says we're having another girl. You're going to have a sister, Soph."
"Another girl," Nick breathes. "Two girls. What the hell, Haz."
Harry's smiling at him, eyes red around the edges. He looks very young like that, and a bit scared. Nick's so, so bloody glad he's here.
"I love you," Harry says, rough and honest.
Nick squeezes Harry's hand on his thigh and digs out his phone, balancing it on Sophie's knees, reaching around her to type.
#2 is a girl, Sophies getting a sister
He adds a couple baby emojis and every color of heart before he sends it off to a dozen people.
"Nick?" Dr. Sani says.
"Yeah," he says quickly, clicking the screen off. "Yes. Sorry."
"Can we schedule our next appointment now, or would you prefer to ring the office later?"
"I- can we- sorry, I was just. Haz, can we now, or do you want to call?"
Harry's scrubbing at his nose with a tissue, still grinning so hard it looks like it hurts. "I dunno. I'm pretty open, I think."
"We- let me just get my-" Nick tries to swipe to his calendar, but Aimee texts him five times in succession, and then Collette, and then Henry.
OMG
I fucking knew it
A GIRL FUCK YES
is sophie pumped
is harry crying i bet he's crying right now
-
Oh that's lovely Grim !!! So happy for you both Xxxx
-
AHHHHHH ANOTHER GIRL OMG DIVA #2 [fingernail emoji] one more and you can recreate HAIM
-
Nick stares at the messages for a minute.
"Nick," Dr. Sani says, huffing a laugh.
"Sorry. I- we'll just ring you, can we just ring you?"
"Of course you can."
Nick turns his phone screen off with shaky fingers.
"Should we- let's go home," he says to Harry. "Should we just go home?"
"Yeah," Harry says thickly. He's still looking at Nick all awestruck, like Nick's a sunset or some shite. It's that sort of look that scares Nick shitless, even as he wants to bask in it for the rest of his life. "Let's go home."
---
Harry settles down onto the sofa, scooting Sophie aside to make room, Pig curled up on the floor at their feet. Nick’s blinking exhaustedly, eating popcorn kernel by kernel, and Harry reaches across the bowl to kiss his temple, place a hand on his stomach. They were at the hospital today, because Nick started bleeding - again. Everything looks fine. Normal. Apparently it happens sometimes, and it doesn’t necessarily mean anything’s wrong, and the most important thing for Nick to do is rest.
Nick’s quite shit at resting. But they’re trying their best.
“Be careful, daddy,” Sophie commands, picking up Harry’s hand with both of hers and lifting it off Nick’s belly. “There’s a baby in there.”
“I know that, darling,” Harry says, trying not to laugh. “I was saying hello. Remember how we say hello to the baby?”
“But you have to be careful,” Sophie insists. “Right, daddy?”
“Right,” Nick says, voice low and hoarse. He ruffles Sophie’s hair. “Very careful. No yelling or having tantrums.”
“I know,” Sophie says, brows furrowing. “I’m being careful.”
“Yes, you are, you’re being wonderful,” Harry says, heart squeezing. He scoops Sophie up into his lap, kisses her face. “You’re going to be the best big sister ever.”
“If we get that far,” Nick mutters.
Harry looks over at him, as Sophie cuddles up against his chest, squirming her arm over Harry’s for a handful of popcorn. “Dr. Sani said it’d be fine.”
“Then why do I keep-” Nick starts, low in his throat. He sniffs in hard, looks away. “Never mind. Let’s play the - the film.”
Harry looks down at Sophie, quiet on his lap. He thinks she can feel it, whenever they come home from the doctor’s. The first time it happened, three weeks ago, Nick thought he’d miscarried. He was white-faced and silent all the way to the hospital, right up until the doctor checked for a heartbeat and found one. It was the worst bloody day of Harry’s life so far.
Harry doesn’t know what to do at this point. He doesn’t know what to do except make sure that Nick rests.
He’s so fucking scared. Of course he’s scared, but he can’t say it, and he can’t let Sophie know.
The movie’s a cartoon one about animals in a hotel, and Harry falls asleep about ten minutes in. He wakes up to Sophie sleeping with her head on his thigh and Nick nowhere to be found.
“Love you,” he whispers to Sophie, stroking her cheek. He leaves her there, stands up slowly from the sofa, joints cracking as he rolls his shoulders.
Nick’s in the toilet in the bathroom, slowly brushing his teeth. Harry peers in at him, and then does a double-take when he sees that Nick’s crying.
“Oh god,” he says. Nick glances over at him, chokes out a sob with a mouthful of toothpaste. “Oh god, love, don’t cry-”
“I’m not,” Nick garbles out, and nearly chokes again, and Harry takes the toothbrush out of his mouth.
“You’ll choke on that, Grim. Spit.”
Nick spits, straightens up and sobs again. Harry puts his arms around Nick’s shoulders, holds him tight.
“Shh, it’s alright.”
“It’s not,” Nick mumbles. “It’s not alright.”
“It is. You’re going to be fine. We’re going to be fine, alright?”
Nick shakes his head, and Harry walks him backwards into the bedroom, sits him down.
“Nick,” he says, low. “Dr. Sani said it’s normal.”
“It’s not fucking normal.” Nick coughs, rubs his nose with his wrist. “It wasn’t like this with Soph. I feel messed up.”
He sucks in a breath, and sobs again. “I can’t, I can’t, Harry, fuck, I’m not - I’m not strong enough for this, alright? I can’t. I’m sorry, shit, I’m so sorry-”
“Oh Jesus, Nick, don’t - don’t be sorry.” Harry’s throat hurts. He rubs his hand down Nick’s back.
“I am, though,” Nick chokes. “I’m sorry-”
“Nick.” Harry pulls him closer, feels the heavy warmth of him. “You don’t have to be sorry for anything. Anything. All I care about is you being safe and Sophie being safe. I just want you to feel good.”
“Well I don’t,” Nick says, thickly. He chokes a bitter laugh. “I don’t feel good.”
“Alright, so, we’ll- we’ll work on it. You have to rest, and be so careful, okay? That’s - that’s the way it is right now. You just need to rest, love. And stay healthy. We’ll get through it.”
“I’m so scared,” Nick breathes out. “God.”
Harry puts his face against Nick’s shoulder. “I know.”
“If I- if I lose her-”
“Shh, sh, Nick, don’t,” Harry chokes out. “Don’t. We’re not going to.”
Nick shivers, reaches up to wipe his eyes.
“You’ll still, like. Be here?” he whispers. “If I-”
“Fucking Christ, Grim, yes,” Harry says fiercely. “Don’t be- of course I will. No matter what.“
Nick sniffs hard.
“Where’s Soph?” he asks, after a minute.
“Sofa. She’s passed out.”
Nick nods. “I’ll get her, alright?”
“You don’t have to-”
“I want to.” Nick sniffs again, smiles strained and wide. “Go to bed, I’ll be in in a bit.”
Harry watches him leave.
He brushes his teeth, splashes water over his face. When he’s done flossing Nick’s still not back, so he nudges the bedroom door open.
They’re not on the sofa. Harry absently folds the throw blanket, drapes it over the back of the couch.
Finally he finds them, in Sophie’s bed. Nick’s sat on the edge of the bed, Sophie curled next to him, murmuring sleepily. She reaches up to put her palm to Nick’s belly, and Nick laughs quietly, puts his hand over hers.
The door creaks as Harry leans on it and they both look up. Nick smiles.
“Hi, daddy,” Sophie murmurs.
“Hi love.” His voice sounds hoarse.
“Good night, babe,” Nick says, picking up Sophie’s hand and kissing it. “Sweet dreams.”
Sophie must be tired, cos she doesn’t protest when Nick stands up, just snuggles into her pillows, eyes falling shut.
“Night, Soph,” Harry whispers, flicking the lamp off.
---
"Ah, I'm off dairy," Nick says, when Aimee offers him a slice of pizza.
"Dieting when you're knocked up, what's the point?" Pixie says, grabbing a piece. "Aims, remember when you were having Alex and you ate like four double burgers from Mcdonald's-"
"Oh my god, yes. That was amazing." Aimee sighs wistfully.
"It's not dieting, I've- my- my stomach's been weird." Nick takes a sip of tea. "I didn't, uh, tell you. Any of you, yet, but. Well. Things have been a bit weird."
Aimee stops mid-bite, and Pixie puts down her wine. "How d'you mean?"
"Umm," Nick says, forcing a laugh. "Well. I've gone into hospital a few times-"
"What?" Aimee breathes.
"- but it's not serious. Or it is, sort of, but I'm fine."
Pixie's watching him fearfully.
"There's just been a lot of, er, bleeding," Nick says, swallowing. "So I've had to go in, uh, two or three times."
"Bleeding," Aimee repeats.
Nick shrugs into his water. "Yeah."
"Grim, what the - what the fuck does that mean, that you're bleeding," Pixie says, sounding shaky.
"They said it can be common with second pregnancies, alright? I just have to, like, stay in bed and do nothing. And wash my hands loads."
"You're on bed rest?"
"Not for like, every hour of the day. Just. Y'know. Supposed to take it easy, whatever." Nick wiggles one hand in a vague approximation of taking it easy.
"But you DJ'ed last night."
"Well, I'm not gonna stop my whole life. It was a short set, anyway."
"But you're like, okay, right?" Pixie asks, voice going small. "Like everything's gonna be fine. Right?"
Nick thinks about it. Sometimes he thinks so. And then sometimes his body wakes him in the middle of the night, pulls him out of sleep with a start, and he gropes for a pillow and stares into darkness, terrified, Harry snoring against his back. He gets up for a wee and ends up in Sophie's doorway, watching her soft sleeping face bathed in moonlight and trying not to cry. Sometimes he feels like it's worse than anyone's letting on.
"Nick," Aimee says, loud.
"I'll be fine," Nick says automatically. "It's just a pain in the arse. It'll be fine."
Pixie stares at him for a bit, and then looks down. "Alright," she says, sniffing. "So- so what film are we watching?"
---
"Thanks, Gem," Harry says, peering after Sophie as she sprints down the hall to the guestroom, calling for Gemma's cat. "We appreciate it. I can come by tomorrow, if you want-"
"Take Sunday too, Harry, it's fine." She looks at him worriedly. "How's Nick?"
Harry chews his lip. Shrugs. "He's alright."
"Feeling better?"
"Not- not really. Really tired still. He's been having these, like, stomach pains lately, sort of like contractions, I guess, but, um. The doctor said they're not - actually-"
Harry stops, voice cracking. "Shit. Sorry."
Gemma wraps her arms around him. "Fuck."
"Yeah. Sorry. I just- we've gone over it so many times. I'm so fucking tired of talking about it."
She rubs his back, soft and careful.
"He's scared," Harry says, shakily. "I am too."
"I know. It's fucking shit. I'm sorry."
"I feel like- like I have to be strong, y'know, because he's - he's hurting, and I- I can't just, like."
Harry can't go on. His throat closes up.
"Auntie Gemma!" they both hear, and Harry shakes himself, rubs his nose with the back of his hand.
"I should go."
"I'll ring you before bed, okay? So you can say goodnight."
Harry nods, and Gemma squeezes him hard, presses a kiss against his cheek.
"It's gonna be alright," she says in his ear. "You'll get through this, alright? It's just a hiccup."
Harry nods again. She ruffles his hair, and turns away.
---
When he gets back, Nick's in the kitchen, peering into the fridge.
Harry shuts the front door behind him, flips the lock. "Hey, love."
"Hi," Nick says, sounding tired. He's always sounding that way lately. Harry tries not to be scared of that. It's temporary. No matter what happens, even if - if they lose the baby, it's temporary.
"We've got like nothing in, I'm sorry. Should I go grab summat?"
"No, it's alright," Nick says, shutting the fridge with a clunk. "Feel like a bit of toast."
"A bit of toast sounds perfect." Harry touches Nick's shoulder hesitantly. "How're you feeling?"
Nick doesn't look at him, tugging two pieces of bread from the package and setting them in the toaster. "Fine."
"Grim-"
"I'm fine, Harry." He lets out a ragged breath. "Was Soph alright, staying at Gemma's?"
"Yeah, she was fine. Ran off without saying goodbye."
Nick huffs out a laugh. "Of course."
"Gem said she could stay til Sunday, if we want. If you need more time."
Nick nods, slowly.
"Maybe," he says. "I just - I want to be, like. There for her. I want to be with her. I'm just so tired, Hazza. I can't be like all - all on, for her. Y'know?"
He chokes out a humorless laugh, and Harry's chest clenches.
"It's alright," he says, trying not to show how bloody scared he is. "You've got to rest, it's fine. It's just for now. Sophie'll understand."
Nick rolls his eyes. "Yeah, she's such a logical and forgiving four-year-old."
Harry laughs, and they both startle when the toaster dings. Nick pads over to it, pulls out his toast, hissing and licking his burned fingers.
"Want me to put some in for you?" he asks, fumbling for the butter dish.
"Nah, it's alright." Harry leans over to press a kiss against his shoulder. "Love you."
"Yeah," Nick says vaguely. "You too."
---
“Hii, Nick,” Rachel at the front desk says, waving him past security. “Lookin’ good, babe, when’re you due again?”
“October.”
“How’s it going?”
“Good, good, thanks,” Nick lies breezily. “Sorry, I’m late for my meeting-”
“Of course, babe, go on in.” She waves him off.
He leans against the wall of the empty elevator, lets out a long breath as he starts making his familiar way upward. It’s nuts, how many times he’s been in this building. He still remembers the first time, coming in for an interview, so dazzled and terrified he thought he’d throw up. The Beeb. It’s all he ever wanted.
Nick shuts his eyes, just for a moment. He knows this isn’t the end. He knows it’s just a break, and he’ll be back once the baby’s born, and he’ll be alright. But still. He swallows queasily, and the elevator dings. Top floor.
“There he is,” his agent calls down the hall. She pulls him into a one-armed hug when he’s closer.
“Hi, Melissa.”
“Oh my god, let me see you.” She holds him by the shoulders. “Look at you! Really showing now.”
“Don’t remind me, I can’t see my bloody feet.”
“Oh, you look great.” She pats his cheek with one hand. “And how are you feeling?”
Nick tries to smile. “Alright.”
She clucks her tongue. “Harry said you’ve not been well.”
“I’m fine, just.” He shrugs. “Just need a bit more rest, I suppose. That's what the doctor says.”
“Well, that’s why we’re here, isn’t it.” She squeezes his shoulder. “Sara’s inside, Andrew’s here.”
“Am I last?”
“Well, no, Matt was filling in on Greg’s show, so he’ll be late.”
“Yess, here before Finchy.” Nick pushes the conference room door open, laughs when Sara hoots from the other side of the table.
“Grimmy! Sight for sore eyes.”
“Three days apart, she can’t stand to be without me,” Nick sighs, to whoever’s listening, who happens to be Andy. “Hiya, big boss.”
“Hi Nick.” Andy huffs a laugh, and Nick kisses his cheek. “Good to see you.”
“You too.”
“How’s the family?”
“Oh, lovely. Sophie’s discovered she can reach the sweets shelf if she stands on a kitchen chair, so we’ve all been dealing with that.”
Andy huffs a laugh, and Sara snorts. “Took her long enough.”
“I know, right? C’mon Sophs, be a little more ambitious.” Nick slides into his seat as Sara leans over to hug him round the shoulders. “Mm, good morning, Co-host Coxy.”
“Morning, babe.”
“How’s it been without me?”
“Awful. Boring.” Sara squeezes his hand. “But I guess I’d better get used to that, eh?”
Nick sighs, scooting his chair in as far as he can go. “We’ll talk about it.”
“How are you feeling? Really.”
Nick looks up as Matt bustles his way in, giving Nick a wave, notebook in one hand.
“A bit terrible,” he says, and she squeezes his hand tighter, wincing. “But like. I'll sort it out.”
“Oh, babes.”
“I know, it’s stupid. Least it's my birthday next week. And a holidayyy, thank God.” Nick sighs, just as Matt sits across from him. “Morning, Fincham!”
“Morning, Nick.” Matt takes a sip of tea. “How are you?”
“Amazing, and you?”
“Fine.” Matt shuffles his papers, all business-like, and Nick sticks out his tongue at him. Matt rolls his eyes. “Sorry I’m late, everyone, should we get started?”
“Let’s,” Andrew says distractedly, staring down at his phone. He sets it down with a clunk, looks up, and suddenly they're all staring at Nick. "Nick, you want to tell us why we're here?"
"Well," Nick says, swallowing. "So. I know I've been a bit MIA lately, but, like, I swear it's not my fault. Actually suppose I've got a- a pretty good excuse."
"What is it?" That's Finchy, leaning across the desk, brow furrowed.
"Well, so." Nick huffs a breath, covers one hand with the other to keep himself from fidgeting. "So. Here's the deal."
---
Mallorca is perfect. The house is perfect, the pool is perfect, and best of all, Nick loves it. He does a tour with Sophie while Harry unpacks, and Harry can hear them both laughing through the wide-open bay windows in the master bedroom.
It’s nice, to hear Nick laugh. It’s been a rough week - two doctor’s appointments and a meeting at the BBC that finalized Nick’s paternity leave, effective immediately. On top of that he’s been getting dizzy when he stands up in the mornings, and there was an article in Heat about their failing marriage or some shite. Harry didn’t read it all the way through, but Nick probably did.
So it’s good, that they’re away from it all for a bit. Nick’s birthday is tomorrow, and he can just - relax. Do nothing. But on holiday, where it’s acceptable to do nothing and he won’t get restless. Harry knows he’ll get restless soon enough.
They have dinner at a place in town, stuff themselves with fresh seafood and pasta, and stumble back to the house once it’s dark out, Sophie holding both of their hands between them and telling a long story about a film she saw about a fish.
Sophie changes into her bathing suit once they’re back, even though it’s past nightfall, and Harry grudgingly joins her in the pool, holding her waist as she splashes around, Nick sprawled on a chaise lounge laughing at the both of them.
He’s still laughing when they make their way out of the pool and Sophie throws herself onto the lounge next to him, lays on her back and stares up at the stars, panting.
“I love holiday,” she says dreamily, and Harry laughs, tosses her a towel. It covers her face and she squeals, batting it away.
“Me too.”
“Me three,” Nick says sleepily, reaching over to hold Sophie’s hand, and Harry hides his grin in his towel.
---
Harry comes awake to the bed rustling, dipping under Nick's weight. He opens his eyes blearily as Nick stands up.
"Grim?"
"Shh, just need the loo," Nick murmurs, not looking at him, back turned.
Harry lets out a breath and nestles down into the plush mattress. "Kay."
He falls back asleep for a bit, wakes up to the sound of the toilet flushing. The sink runs for a minute, but the toilet door doesn't open, and Nick doesn't come back to bed.
Harry lifts his head halfway. He can see light leaking out from under the door.
There's a loud thunk and then - muffled under the running water but audible - the choked sound of Nick being sick.
Harry sits up so fast it makes his head spin. Nick spits, hard, and then vomits again, loud and harsh.
"Shit," Harry mumbles, as he stumbles upright.
The toilet door's locked. Harry jiggles the doorknob, knocks lightly on the door.
"Nick?" he calls, softly.
Nick coughs. Spits again.
"I'm fine," he says, hoarse and low. Harry twists the doorknob again, uselessly. "Go back to bed."
"Open the door, Grim."
"Go back to bed!"
Harry thunks his forehead against the door, lets out a sharp breath. He hates when Nick does this. He hates it. There's this fierce little part of Nick, right at his core, that doesn't want anyone's help. Harry can fight it as much as he wants but Nick never bloody gives in.
"Grim, c'mon, please. Open the fucking door."
The toilet flushes again.
"Nick please," Harry chokes, and the door opens under his head. He nearly stumbles forward.
Nick flicks the light off, stands there in shadowy moonlight. The toilet smells of acid and too much air freshener. It makes Harry's nose wrinkle.
"You're poorly," Harry says stupidly, as Nick pushes past him to go back to bed.
"I'm fine." Nick coughs into his elbow, spits into the bin by his bedside. "Just the food, I guess. I feel fine now."
He gets back into bed, pulling at the cream-white duvet.
Harry scrubs a hand over his nose and gets back in beside him.
"What d'you think it was that you ate?"
"The fish, probably." Nick's voice is shot. Harry wants to reach over and touch him, but he holds himself back. Nick hasn't liked that very much lately. "I dunno. Sorry to wake you."
"It's alright." Harry inches closer to him. "It's fine, love. I'm sorry you're sick."
"I'm fine."
He's lying. What makes him lie like that, to his own fucking husband?
Harry should shut up and go to sleep and talk about this later, when they're not on holiday, when it's not 3 AM.
Instead he says, thickly, "Why won't you talk to me?"
Nick goes very still.
"I don't get why you won't- like, I just, I care about you." Harry's voice is starting to wobble. Shit. "I just want to know how you're feeling-"
"I told you, I'm fine."
"You're not fine."
Nick chokes a sour laugh. "You say you want me to tell you how I feel and then when I do you say I'm lying. That's great, Harry. What a fun conversation."
"You know you're not fine. You're being fucking sick at three in the bloody morning, you're not fine-"
"I was just sick, Harry. Sometimes sick is just sick."
"I don't get why you're doing this," Harry chokes. "I just don't, like-"
"Because I'm bloody tired!" Nick snaps, shoulders hunching, back to Harry. "I'm tired and I don't want to talk about it all the fucking time! Just leave me the fuck alone, Haz. Jesus."
Harry can't breathe for a second, and then he lets it out, slow and shaking.
"Fine," he says, after a taut silence.
Nick drags a pillow to his chest, holds it tight. "Fine."
Harry sits up. His blood's buzzing furiously. He grabs his pillow and makes his way out of the room, shutting the door quietly behind him. Part of him wants to slam it, but he's not a fucking toddler. Not like Nick, who can't fucking admit when he's feeling poorly to his own fucking husband.
He drives Harry mad. Completely bleeding mad.
Sophie's fast asleep in bed, clutching Rexy, hair starting to dry in messy curls on the pillow. Harry doesn't disturb her, just watches from the doorway for a minute and then turns.
He fills a glass of water from the filter, gulps it down. The house is quiet enough so Harry can hear the ocean. He shuts his eyes and listens.
It makes his heart slow, makes his blood pressure drop. Takes him ten minutes, but eventually he's calm enough to go back upstairs.
He's pushing the door open when he hears something, and his ears prick. If Nick's being sick again, they're going in, Harry doesn't care what he says. They'll find a bloody doctor somewhere.
But it's not Nick being sick. The sound comes again, low and rough, and Harry's chest clenches when he realizes what it is.
Nick's crying.
Harry pushes the door open, heart caught in his throat, and Nick goes abruptly silent. He's on his side in bed, facing away from the door, duvet up to his neck.
Harry crawls into bed. Puts a hand on Nick's side.
"Love," he whispers. His eyes hurt. "Nick. Hey."
Nick chokes a wet breath.
"Hey," Harry says again, fiercely. He pulls the duvet back, gets in behind Nick, presses up against his back. Slings an arm around and under his shirt to touch the curve of his belly, palm open against the skin. His heart's pounding. "Hey, hey, don't cry."
"I'm not," Nick mumbles.
"Shh, shh, it's alright-"
"Just stop it, Haz," Nick says, breathless, before he sobs again, curls in on himself. Harry wriggles closer, terrified.
"Why're you crying?"
"M'not."
Harry kisses the back of his neck. "Please, love. Please, c'mon-"
"You're gonna leave me," Nick chokes out, and Harry's eyes widen in the darkness.
"What?"
"You're gonna- you don't- you don't want to do this," Nick wobbles out. "You're gonna leave me-"
"No, no, I'm not," Harry says numbly, pulling Nick closer. "No I'm not. Why're you- why're you saying that, Grim, I'm never leaving you, you know that-"
Nick just weeps, puts his face in the crook of his elbow and sobs desperately. It scares the shit out of Harry. Nick doesn't break down like this.
He stays close, tucked up against Nick's shuddering back.
"I love you so much," he whispers into Nick's neck, damp with sweat. "I'm never leaving, I promise-"
"Don't fucking promise that," Nick mumbles. "Don't."
"But it's - I mean it, Grim."
"You don't."
"I do, fuck. I do." Harry nearly whimpers into Nick's hair, the soft skin of his neck. "I'm spending the rest of my fucking life with you. I swear. Shh, I swear."
Nick quiets after a while, til his breathing is thick but even.
"Love you," Harry murmurs, eyes closed. He keeps his hand on Nick's belly. "Love you."
Nick just sighs, slow.
"Sorry," he says eventually, voice small.
Harry's half-asleep, but he kisses Nick's neck.
“Go to sleep,” he mumbles. “Love you.”
---
Harry climbs back into the boat, pushing his hair back from his face, and Nick whistles loud, pushing his sunglasses up into his hair.
"Well, helloooo, rockstar," he says, and Harry snorts. They haven't talked about last night, but Nick's been acting - better. Lighter.
"Hi Grim." He shakes his hair out onto Nick, and Nick yelps.
"Stoppit!"
Harry laughs, pulling his hair up into a bun, water dripping down his neck.
"Daddy!" Sophie calls. She'd been splashing around with Harry in the water, and she's dripping everywhere, a towel clutched in one hand, floaties still on her arms.
"Is that my fishy girl?" Nick laughs, as Sophie clambers up onto the seat next to him, tugging off the floaties and tossing them aside. Harry has to catch one before it sails off the upper deck. "Look who's a big fish."
"I'm not a fish," Sophie says, crawling onto Nick's lap, and Nick whines.
"You're getting me all wet, darling."
"Oops," Sophie says unrepentantly, reaching for Nick's phone. "Can I play Fruit Ninja?"
"S'pose you can. Only cos we're on holiday. And dry your hands, love, or the phone won't work."
He helps Sophie rub her hands on her towel, settles her in his lap, the towel on his thighs.
"You want a drink?" Harry asks, once Sophie's happily staring at Nick's screen, her sunglasses on.
"Do we still have that fizzy water?"
"Yeah, I think so."
"The mango one would be amazing, thanks, Hazza. You want a fizzy water, Sophs?"
"Yeah," Sophie says automatically, not looking up.
"You want berry, love?"
"Lemon," Sophie says distractedly.
"What do you say?"
"Pleeease."
"Good girl," Nick says, kissing her ear, watching the screen over her shoulder.
Harry watches them for a moment, and then turns away when Nick looks up at him.
If Nick feels alright, if they've reached some kind of shaky equilibrium, Harry's not gonna question it. Maybe that's just what Nick needs right now, a bit of space. Harry hates it, but he can do it. If it's what Nick needs.
---
Nick turns the water on as hot as it'll go, scrubs at the stained boxers with a palmful of bleach. It's so stupid, that he's still bleeding. Just rarely enough that it fools him, and he thinks it's over with, and then he ruins another pair of pants.
His stomach twinges hard and he lets out a rough breath, presses his palm against it.
"Settle down," he mutters. She doesn't listen, and Nick grits his teeth against another cramp, hunches over and keeps scrubbing. He'd throw his pants in the laundry, only he doesn't want anything else to get dirty, and - and maybe he doesn't want Harry to know.
Harry doesn't need to worry about this, when the doctor's already said it's alright. Nick's fine. He's just bleeding a bit. It doesn't mean anything awful, and-
Nick chokes at a clench of pain low in his belly, braces himself on the sink. Ouch.
"The fuck are you doing in there," he whispers to the baby. "Stop being a brat."
He sounds like a nutter, whispering to a fetus. But oh well. Harry and Sophie are gone, over at Gemma's to bake some fruit tart Harry had wanted to try, so no one's there to hear him going slowly insane.
Nick wipes sweat off his forehead with his wrist, reaches down to rub bleach right into the stain. It smells strong and sharp, makes his head spin a little. Maybe he's not supposed to be around bleach. He knows he's not supposed to drink it, of course, but - can he smell it? What if he's inhaling it and the baby'll get poisoned?
He turns the sink off, lets out a rough breath. God, he's hot. Stupid hot water steaming up the whole toilet and making him dizzy. It's bloody tropical in there.
He pulls the plug out of the tap, wrings the pair of pants out over the drain. The stain's still there, barely faded. Fantastic.
Nick heaves a sigh and drops the pants into the bin. He covers them with some loo roll, just in case Harry peeks in. Not that he's hiding, it's just -
Oh fuck it. He is hiding. He's hiding the blood, and the cramps he keeps having, and the way he can't stop getting panicky at night, ever since they got back from Mallorca last week. He's hiding it all because it's his bloody business, and Harry'll just go mental, and Nick's fine.
Nick sniffs in hard and goes to tuck the bleach back into the laundry cabinet.
He's halfway there when his gut clenches and releases, a tight shock of pain that makes his breath catch.
"Ow," he whispers, holding himself very still and trying to breathe. "Stop that."
It doesn't stop. Another wave of pain washes over him and Nick shuts his eyes, grabbing onto the wall of the hallway. His face is still sweating, goosepimples crawling queasily over his overheated skin. God, being pregnant is stupid. He doesn't remember this from Sophie, though maybe he's just blocked it out now, or maybe he-
His knees buckle, the plastic container of bleach falling from his hand and clattering on the ground, and he puts all his weight on the wall, eyes going wide. Shit. That definitely never happened with Sophie.
He needs his phone. He needs Harry. He needs to lie down, and he-
He takes another step and falls, stupidly, until he's on his knees on the floor, trembling. His legs feel like jelly and his face is dripping sweat and this is not normal. It's not fucking normal. Fuck, what if he's having her? Or what if he's- it slips into his mind, that maybe he's miscarrying, and-
Harry. He needs Harry to come back right now. His phone's on the nightstand in the bedroom but Nick can't move, and he maneuvers himself best he can til he's sitting on the floor, against the wall, an insistent throb between his legs and in his stomach. His hands are shaking and everywhere feels sticky with sweat. He shuts his eyes, hears the rough sound of his own breath, shuddering in and out. He just needs Harry, and it'll be alright. Harry will fix it.
---
"Now we've got to be quiet, don't we, in case your dad's still sleeping-"
"Daddy!" Sophie yells, and Harry huffs out a laugh, shutting the door behind them.
"Soph, don't yell-"
"Daaaddy!" she sings, skipping down the hallway, and Harry sets the foil-wrapped pan of raspberry tart on the kitchen counter.
"Daddy!" he hears again, louder this time, her voice high and shrill.
"Sophie, c'mon-"
"Daddy!" He hears Sophie's footsteps, pounding down the hall, and then she's stumbling into the kitchen with her eyes wide. "Daddy won't wake up!"
Harry looks up from his tangled car keys. "What?"
"Daddy please," Sophie chokes out, tears wobbling in her eyes, and Harry feels something drop in his stomach, heavy and cold.
He follows her out of the kitchen, chokes when he sees Nick on the ground. He's slumped against the wall, head down, eyes shut. Perfectly still. Harry can't breathe.
"He won't wake up," Sophie gasps, already starting to cry, and Harry drops to his knees next to Nick.
"Grim," he says, very steady, his body taut with panic. "Grim, wake up."
Nick groans, head lolling, and when Harry puts a hand on his face he hisses. Nick's burning up. His skin is flushed, hot to the touch and damp with sweat.
"Shit," Harry chokes out. "Sophie, go fetch my phone off the counter."
"Dad," Sophie whimpers.
"Sophie, go!"
Sophie takes off down the hall, and Harry cups Nick's face in both his hands.
"Nick." His voice is strained. "Nick, wake up a little bit, please, please. Nick. Wake up. Wake the fuck up, Nick, please-"
Nothing except another groan.
Sophie gives him his phone and crawls onto Nick, reaching for his belly and then his neck, crying. Nick's eyes don't open.
"Sophie," Harry says, as he calls 999. "Sophie, don't - Sophie don't touch him, please, Soph-"
"Daddy!"
"Sophie!" Harry snaps, yanking her off with an arm around her waist. She weeps, struggles against him as he relays what happened into the phone, voice trembling. He doesn't even know what to say. Fever. 29 weeks pregnant. Won't wake up. Hurry please.
He throws the phone aside and grabs Sophie with both arms as she nearly slips out of his grasp.
"Daddy, no," she sobs, hitting him with curled fists.
"Shh, sh, sh, it's all gonna be fine," Harry chokes out, rocking her back and forth. He can't stop shaking. "I promise, shh. Everything's gonna be fine."