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oh baby baby, the reason i breathe is you

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Harry has a plan for himself that’s been in effect since he was fourteen years old. He wanted to graduate uni at 22, score a dream job by 23, meet the love of his life by 24, and have a baby by 25. Truthfully, the baby is the most important part of this plan; he fondly remembers his favorite toys as a child being the realistic dolls that would wee on you and then laugh robotically about it afterward. Even back then he’d coo after the stream of water shot him in the eye and then soothe the doll by rocking it in his arms. He wants a baby.

The problem is that Harry is now 26-going-on-27, and while he has the degree and the job, his love life is bleak. He hasn’t been in a relationship since his late teens, and even that was more of a casual repeated hook-up than a relationship.

He’s 26, still living with his best friend Louis, and has no prospects on the horizon. In a perfect world, when he lets his imagination drift, he and Louis would be chasing little tiny feet all over their home, but Harry never lets these thoughts go too far. He has no shortage of self-confidence, but Harry thinks Louis deserves only the best. Even if Louis had shown one hint of interest toward him in the past nine years, the only person he can imagine him settling down with is a David Beckham lookalike. Or David Beckham himself. Louis told him he looked like a flesh-toned human frog once when they were drunk. He doesn’t think that meets Louis’ standards.

So yes, no prospects whatsoever. It’s with this in mind that Harry enacts Operation Life Plan Redux: Harry Gets a Baby. He signs up for every internet dating site, marks down every speed-dating night at the local pub in his calendar, decides to tell all of his friends to set him up on blind dates, and flirts wildly with every man he comes into contact with in the hopes of exchanging numbers.

Harry’s going to fall in love and get knocked up by December 31st. That’s his plan.


“Jade!” Harry calls out as he steps out of the elevator onto his floor of the office building. He stops at the front desk and smiles prettily at the tiny brunette scowling at him from her seat.

“What do you want now, Harry?” Jade asks. Technically Harry is her superior and this kind of treatment would get any normal person fired, but Harry’s never been a very authoritative leader. And Jade’s usually a friend when it’s not arse o’clock in the morning. Plus he likes spunky people. Like Louis. Best not to dwell on that, Harry thinks.

“Hello to you too, Jade,” he offers, giving her a little bow. “What I need is for you to set me up with any available guys you know. Please.”

Jade gives him a suspicious look over the brim of her glasses. “I thought you were trying to get with Louis.”

Harry’s eyes widen as he stammers, “No! Not Louis, no, no. Why—why would you think—why would you.”

Jade stares hard at him, unimpressed. “Why would I, you ask? The last time we had an office party, you invited Louis and made moon eyes at him while he spiked the punch and danced on the breakroom table. I was under the impression you were going to get some eventually.”

Harry bites his lip and looks down at his toes. He doesn’t need to be reminded of how annoyingly obvious he is to anyone with eyes. Well, anyone without Louis’ eyes.

“No, I’m not…trying to get some with him, Jade. I’m trying to find The One,” Harry answers.

“And you expect to find the love of your life through a blind date set up by your receptionist?” Jade replies.

“Administrative assistant,” Harry murmurs. “And no, I thought I’d find the love of my life through a blind date set up by my friend.” Harry bats his eyelashes for added effect, making Jade scowl and shoo him away.



His date’s name is Steve and all Jade has said about him is that he’s blonde, fit, and tall. He was supposed to meet him at seven at a little Italian place in the city, but Harry’s running late at work. He pops in to his flat to squeeze himself into his skinnies and a casual blazer, and then runs right out the door again with a breezy goodbye to Louis.

After breaking a few traffic laws, Harry manages to pull up to the restaurant at 7:08. He hurries inside and greets the sunny hostess at the front.

“Styles, Harry. My date should already be here, I think?” he says, trying to catch his breath.

The hostess scans the list of names in front of her and frowns. “We have your reservation, Mr. Styles, but your date hasn’t arrived yet. Would you like me to seat you anyway?”

Well. Harry should be relieved that he’s not the late one, but he feels a little knot of nerves ball up in his stomach. He nods and follows the hostess to his table, asking only for a glass of water, and waits.

And waits.

And waits.

At 7:38 with entirely too many pitying glances from the passing waitresses that were leaning a smidge too far towards condescending, Harry decides to call it a night. He’s been stood up. Stood up by tall, fit, blonde Steve.

Harry walks towards the exit and pulls out his phone to text Jade.

your boy didn’t show up >:(

oooooh i forgot to tell u he got back together with his bf a few days ago. sozzzz :/



Harry ignores Jade for the rest of the week. She doesn’t seem to mind.


Through the magic of online dating services, Harry goes on three dates in the next week. Dates who decidedly do not stand him up, although Harry kind of wishes they had.

The first one, Robert, was a dreadful bore. He spent the entire evening talking about a legal case he was working on – not even an exciting case Harry could be interested in like a murder or something. No, it was white collar crime – and didn’t ask Harry a single question about himself. He’s not entirely sure Robert even remembered his name by the end of the evening.

The second date is with Tony, a physical therapist that coincidentally works in the office building across the street from Harry’s. Tony is short (and not in a cute way, with twinkly blue eyes and a curvy body like someone Harry knows) and overly muscled. He spends most of the night grilling Harry on his workout routine, sounding dissatisfied with Harry’s interest in yoga.

“Yoga isn’t very manly is it?” Tony asks, flexing his biceps that are showcased in a short-sleeve Ed Hardy v-neck.

Harry slowly blinks at the other man, cocking his head to the side in disbelief.

“I’m not sure what’s inherently feminine about yoga, Tony, nor am I sure what about me makes you think I care at all about gender norms,” Harry answers, gesturing to the pink string bracelet wrapped around his wrist. Tony laughs as if he just made a hilarious joke while Harry mentally scratches him off his list.

The third date isn’t so much a date as it is a get-together for “eligible gay bachelors” within the area. Harry is hesitantly hopeful. As he gets ready in his bedroom, Louis walks through the open doorway and leans against Harry’s dresser.

Louis stares blankly while Harry straightens out his blazer and swishes his hair around with his hand. “This is the third date you’ve been on this week, Harry,” he says.

Harry grins and pivots on the balls of his feet to check out his arse in the mirror. “I’m not going to find the father of my children by lounging about on the couch eating Doritos and watching reruns of Friends, Louis.”

"The father of your — what," Louis replies. He’s looking at him with something akin to horror splashed across his face. ""You’re looking for — you want — what."

Harry frowns and places his hands on his hips as he turns to face the other boy. “Father of my children, Louis. Children. I want to be pregnant by the end of the year.”

Louis sputters in response and gestures wildly in the air as if that will actually translate as a response to Harry. “You—since when have you wanted this, Harry? Isn’t this sudden?”

“I’ve wanted this since I was fourteen, Louis. I was supposed to be staying at home with a baby already according to my plan, but my lack of a partner has delayed that a little,” Harry mutters distastefully. “But I decided to be serious about it now, Lou. I know what I want and I’m going to get it.”

Louis doesn’t look entirely pleased with this information. Either he’s weirded out that Harry wants kids so young – although really, is 26 that young – or he’s upset that Harry’s hopefully going to be knocked up and moving out by the end of the year -- although if Harry could have his way he’d never move out. His future husband might take issue with that, though.

“Well…good luck mate,” Louis replies, turning his back to Harry and shutting the door behind him as he leaves.

Harry frowns and shakes his head. Now is not the time to think about his issues with Louis. Now is the time for going to this “get-together” and seducing someone.


Apparently Harry missed the memo that this get-together was for men aged 55 and up, looking for partners to live the rest of their lives in retired bliss with. The men in the room eye him speculatively as he enters, whispering amongst themselves.

“Is there a new skin care routine I should be made aware of, or are you a little too young for this, babe?” asks one of the men near him. When Harry turns to face him, the other man grins. “Not that you’re not cute, love, but I don’t think we’re what you’re looking for.”

Harry gets a few free drinks and a new business contact by the end of the night, however, so it might not be a total bust.


Harry walks into work the next morning feeling beaten down and discouraged. It’s March now, which only leaves him with nine more months to find The One. Nine months he could’ve used to have a baby.

He almost makes it to the door of his office when Jade calls him back.

“Now I know I disappointed you a little last time, Harry, but I’ve got another guy to set you up with. His name’s Rick and he’s a little older but he’s got quite the…personality,” Jade offers.

“Will he stand me up?” Harry asks.

“No! He’s dependable I swear,” Jade says.

Harry sighs and hangs his head. “Fine. Tell him to meet me at The Garden at seven on Friday.”


Harry will comfortably live the rest of his life in bliss if he never sees Rick again. Ever. Harry had showed up to the restaurant early and watched five minutes later as Rick strolled into the room, laughing loudly at someone on the other end of his phone. Harry thinks he looks a bit like a clothed grasshopper, but he quickly shoos the thought away and gives him a small grin.

“Hi, love,” Rick whispers to Harry, clasping his hand over the receiver of his phone. “Listen, babe, I’ve got to call you back in a little bit, got a date now, ta!”

Rick hangs up and clasps his hands together on the table excitedly, eyeing Harry up and down. Harry gulps nervously.

“You’re a proper little twink, aren’t you?” Rick asks. And—okay. This evening won’t end well.

Harry pastes on a plastic smile and changes the subject. “Nice to meet you, too. What do you do, Rick?”

“Hmmm, young uni boys mostly, Harry,” he says, snickering. Harry feels his right eye twitch. “But if you’re talking about work, I’m in the entertainment business. Jack of all trades, I am.”

The conversation flows much the same way for the next few minutes. Harry’s responding with stilted answers to Rick’s provocations. He’s already planning on ways to make an abrupt exit when Rick gets a phone call. He holds a finger up to tell Harry to wait while he answers.

“Hey, babe!” Pause. “Yeah, still on the date.” Pause. “Really fit.” Pause. “I’ll ask.” Pause. “Bye, darling.”

Rick hangs up and reaches a clammy hand across the table to cover Harry’s. “How would you feel about heading back to my place and meeting my friend Davey, babe? You’ll love him.”

Harry’s being propositioned, he can feel it. Being propositioned to take part in something he knows will be seedy and uncomfortable and potentially very unhygienic judging from Rick’s personality and the gleam in his eye.

Without thinking, Harry whips out his phone and answers a silent phone call.

“Louis, yes, this is Harry, hello. Wow, you’re in the hospital? You’re injured? Deathbed? I’ll be right there.” He tucks his phone in his pocket and tosses a few bills onto the table. “Gotta go Rick, see you around!” he calls out and dashes toward the exit.


On the way back to his car, Harry passes a kids’ consignment shop with the front display littered with toys, a crib, and baby outfits somehow attached to the window. He presses his nose against the glass and stares mournfully at a small pair of blue and yellow booties lying next to a baby doll.

It’s just -- he wants this so much. This isn’t some fleeting fancy for him, something that can be assuaged by adopting a kitten (although that’s a nice idea, Harry thinks), before Harry takes up some new obsession. Harry wants a tiny bundle of love of his own, one he can coo over and spoil. He wants to do the dirty bits too, feels eager to change the nappies and stay up all night with a fussy baby. He wants all of it, and he wants someone to share it with.

He’s not going to find that with any of the men he’s been out with. Maybe he won’t find it with anyone.

With one last glance and a sigh, Harry heaves himself away from the window and walks back to his car.


Harry almost slams the door shut when he gets back to the flat, making the coat rack jiggle as he kicks his shoes off in its direction. He stomps into the kitchen and grabs a beer and a banana, studiously ignoring Louis’ curious look from where he sits perched on the counter, eating pizza.

"Y’alright mate? Bad date?" Louis asks.

"Yes, Louis, it was a bad date. All of them have been bad fucking dates. I’m never going to meet anyone at this rate, Lou!” He throws his hands in the air and groans. “Am I that repellent towards decent, interesting men? Why can’t I find anyone?”

He watches as Louis gulps down his pizza slice and wipes his greasy hands on his sweatpants.

"The problem isn’t you, H. You deserve the best in the world, babe. Just, maybe you’ll find him more organically than on the internet or through Jade’s awful friends," Louis offers.

Harry swallows nervously, thinking Louis doesn’t know how true his words could be, if Harry could just have him.

"Thanks, Lou. It’s just…all I’ve ever wanted is to be married and happy and have a baby and then more babies and some cats and more babies, and just…I want it now. I don’t want to wait anymore," Harry says. He bites a fingernail and avoids Louis’ sad eyes.

"What if—," Louis cuts himself off and shakes his head bitterly.

"What if what, Lou?" Harry asks.

"No, it’s stupid, forget it," Louis responds ruefully. He picks up the pizza box and pokes it into Harry’s chest. "How about some real food and not that fancy shite at that disgusting restaurant you went to?"

Harry gives Louis a small grin and nods, shoving Louis towards the living room so he can change out of his wasted date clothes. He pulls on sweatpants and a worn t-shirt that he suspects used to be Louis’ and then heads to the couch to slide in beside the other man.

“Y’know,” Harry mumbles around a slice of pizza, “You haven’t gone out much lately, Lou. Need me to set you up with some of my rejects?”

Louis chuckles lightly and shakes his head. “Nah, I’m fine, mate. Not really interested in that at the mo’.”

Harry frowns and cocks his head. “You’re really not thinking of settling down? Not to, like, pressure you or anything, but you’re older than me, Louis, and I know you love kids. Why aren’t you looking?”

Louis wrings his hands out and stares at the TV, but Harry doesn’t think he’s really watching. “Maybe I am looking, Harry. Just being more subtle about it.”

Harry feels a twinge of jealousy towards whoever Louis has been “looking” at, but just shrugs in response. He rests his head on Louis’ shoulder and sighs, shutting his eyes against the wave of tiredness that hits him. He’s been running himself ragged for the past few weeks, going from work to dates to work to dates and back again. He’s missed this, missed being with Louis.

The two of them have been friends since they were teens and have lived together since uni. If there’s one drawback to Harry’s plan, it’s that for once in his life he’ll be separated from Louis. He can feel the separation anxiety preemptively settling in; he snuggles closer to Louis in response.

“You’re cuddly tonight,” Louis murmurs, reaching his arm over the back of the couch to rest his hand on Harry’s curls. He tugs gently at the ends, massaging the pads of his fingers into his scalp, and if Harry was a cat he thinks he’d definitely be purring right now. He’s a step away from rolling onto his back and offering up his belly for Louis to rub. Among other body parts.

“Just missed this, Lou,” Harry says in response, nuzzling in closer. His eyes droop until he’s just barely watching the television through narrow slits of his eyes.

“’Cause you’ve been gallivanting around town seeing to your suitors, darling,” Louis jokes, tugging sharply at Harry’s curls. Harry holds back a hiss at the sensation and burrows his face into Louis’ sleeve to hide the blush making its way onto his skin.

“You know I love you best, Lou,” Harry mumbles. Louis’ breaths beneath him are even and relaxed, coming in a gentle rhythm that’s rocking Harry towards sleep. “Gonna sleep on you now.”

Louis chuckles and rubs Harry’s head, grabbing the remote and turning the volume down several notches.


Harry’s dreaming. He’s dreaming very indecent things about Louis and Louis’ body, and when he wakes with a sharp breath -- he glances at the wall clock – an hour after he fell asleep, there’s a persistent dull throb in his sweatpants. Louis gives him a curious look, turning his head from where he’d been watching the telly through half-closed lids.

Harry untangles himself from Louis’ arms and stretches. “Think I need a real bed, Lou.”

Louis clicks the TV off and stands, yawning and stretching out his own limbs. “Good. Think I lost feeling in my arm forever,” he jokes.

Harry gives him a weak smile and says goodnight as they each go to their own rooms. Harry strips down to his briefs and lays back against the cool sheets and tries to will his hardness away, but every time he thinks he’s getting somewhere he’s assaulted with another vision of Louis looking at him through sleepy, bedroom eyes. Except usually it’s accompanied by Harry looking up at him from his knees and --.

This won’t do.

He tries to wait, he really does. He strains his ears to hear the low snore that proves Louis is asleep, but he doesn’t snore all the time, so he can’t be sure, and fuck it he can be quiet about this.

He slips his briefs down his legs and kicks them to the foot of the bed, immediately reaching a hand out for his cock, but he stops himself just before he goes to wrap his hand around the base. Instead, he tickles the tips of his fingers along his hipbone, smoothing his palm along his thigh and feeling the tiny goosebumps that appear on his skin. He lifts his other hand to trail along his torso, swirling idle circles around his chest until he reaches his nipples. He pinches his left nipple gently between two fingers and lets out a hitched breath at the soft jolt of sensation that heads straight for his cock.

He hasn’t even really touched himself, yet he’s leaking, cock heavy and hot where it rests against his belly. Finally he trails his hand down to his dick, wrapping his hand around the base and stroking up just once, twisting around the head. It’s a dry rub, but it’s not totally uncomfortable yet, so Harry continues to give himself slow, rough jerks.

He imagines it’s Louis in his bed, dainty fingers wrapped prettily around his cock, with his other hand twisted in Harry’s curls like it been when they were on the couch. And it’s just – fuck. Harry knows this isn’t healthy for him, that it’s probably the last thing he needs on the road to moving on and over Louis, but fuck if he cares in that moment. He hardly ever affords himself the luxury of thinking about Louis like this. Usually it’s just brief images flashing through his head that he quickly dispels with a concentrated frown and a particularly rough drag of his hand. But if he’s doing this tonight, and he thinks he is, he’s going to do it right.

With one hand gripped tightly around his base, he reaches with his other hand to the drawer by his bed to rifle around. Sticking his hand in the back, he finds the first thing he needs – a half empty bottle of lube – and places it on the bed beside him. He reaches in again and grasps the plastic base of what he’s looking for – his vibrator.

He drops it onto the bed and reaches again for the lube, uncapping the bottle and pouring a generous amount onto his fingers. He spreads his legs and reaches down to softly rub the pads of his fingers around his hole. He bites his lip at the feeling and tries not to moan out loud. He imagines that it’s Louis’ finger sinking inside him slowly, his body acclimating to the intrusion. Louis’ fingers are shorter than his, but just a shade on the thick side whereas Harry’s are long and spidery. He presses a second finger inside quickly, hissing at the dull sting but tucking his fingers inside anyway, picturing Louis shushing him and complimenting him on how good he takes it, how inviting his body is.

Normally he’d build himself up slowly, but he doesn’t think he can wait. He removes his fingers and grabs the long, thin vibrator, coating it generously with lube and bringing it down to circle around his rim. With a gentle push, it’s inside, pressing, pressing, pressing until -- fuck, he hits the fleshy nub inside that sends fireworks shooting off inside his veins. He twists the bottom of the base to turn it on and then it’s just pleasure, pleasure everywhere.

He turns his head to the side to face the wall and lets out breathy whimpers as he squeezes his eyes shot. He wishes Louis was the one holding the vibrator, milking an orgasm out of him and whispering filthy things in his ear. He wonders if he’s sleeping right now, tossing and turning in his bed while Harry gets himself off to the thought of him in the next room. It’s dirty and obscene and he should feel ashamed but he just can’t. He rubs his palm along the length of his cock, just applying the barest amount of pressure, as he presses the tip of the vibrator more insistently against his prostate. His muscles tense, thighs flexing and his abdomen tightening as he rocks himself down, fucking onto the buzzing plastic.

It’s too much too fast, and Harry’s barreling towards the most intense orgasm he’s had in months. With one hard rub against his cock and jab of the vibrator, he comes with a shout of “Lou--,” cutting himself off before he can get the last syllable out.

He lays there on his bed, covered in his own come and panting harshly in the silence of the room, when he hears a muted cough from the next room. Panic rises in his tummy, doing away with any hazy, post-orgasm high.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Louis might be awake and Louis might have heard and Louis knows and --.

Harry wipes himself clean with a few tissues and tosses the vibrator onto the floor before turning onto his stomach and burying his face in the pillow. Maybe he didn’t hear. He only got the first part of his name out and it’s not like the walls are that thin anyway.

That’s what Harry tells himself.


The next morning Harry finds a Post-It note stuck to his door. It reads, “should i invest in some ear plugs, h? ;)

When he walks into the kitchen, Louis merely gives him a cheeky grin and a wink. But he says nothing about it, jabbers on about some new comic that’s coming to his store instead and – okay. Everything’s normal.


“Harry!” Jade calls as Harry passes her desk on his way to his office. He turns hesitantly, ambling up to her with a slow shuffle.

Jade gives him a coy smile and a slip of paper with an address and a time on it. “Set you up on another date,” she says.

“Jade, no,” Harry moans. “I’m not trusting you this time. You literally have the worst friends of friends I’ve ever met. No more. I’d rather trust the internet for dates than you.”

Jade narrows her eyes and tuts, giving Harry a disapproving frown. “I watch those crime shows, Harry. One day you’re gonna find yourself in a ditch somewhere because 29 year old lawyer Jason turned out to be 51 year old serial killer Jason. One more, Harry. No complaining. You want a man and I’ve got the perfect one for you. Go,” she says, waving him away.

One more, Harry tells himself. One more and he gives up, resigned to a life of loneliness and no babies.


Harry checks the slip of paper one last time as he stands outside the restaurant. He’s been here with Louis a few times in the past, usually when they’re celebrating something. He smiles wryly to himself at the thought, wondering if there’s ever going to be a time he doesn’t immediately relate something back to Louis. Probably not. If Harry could get paid to write speeches about Louis everyday he might do it. Dream job, even.

He steps inside and walks up to the small podium where a smiling hostess waits.

“Hi, I’m Harry? Styles? I’m meeting someone for a date.”

The hostess grins and doesn’t even bother checking her list. “He’s already waiting, sir.”

Harry’s led to a back table, seeing a strikingly familiar head of light brown hair facing away from him.

“Enjoy your meal, sir,” the hostess says, gesturing Harry towards the table. Harry reaches the chair and looks and -- what.

Louis. Louis is here. Louis is…his date?

“Nice to meet you,” Louis greets with a cheeky smile. “I’m Louis, what’s your name?”

“Louis, what is this?” Harry asks.

“Dunno what you mean, stranger. This is a blind date. Never met you before in my life,” Louis replies, lifting his eyebrows defiantly. Harry doesn’t really understand what’s happening or what Louis is playing at, but he decides to play along anyway.

“Sorry, sorry. Um, I’m Harry?” he says, unintentionally phrasing it like a question.

“Well, Harry, it’s absolutely lovely to meet you,” Louis responds, offering Harry a hand to shake. Harry grasps it tightly, bemused. “What do you do, Harry?”

Harry rolls his eyes but tries to hide it at the sight of Louis’ narrowed-eyed glare. “I work in marketing for a local magazine. You?”

“I run my own comics shop in the city, actually,” Louis answers. “Dabble in writing some on the side with my mate, Zayn.”

Harry knows all of this already, of course, but there’s something oddly charming about this charade, as if he’s learning about Louis all over again. Harry could spend the rest of his life learning Louis all over again, actually.

“Interesting,” Harry says. “Who’s your favorite superhero, then?”

“Spiderman,” Louis answers without hesitation. “No contest. Yours?”

Harry weighs his answer. “Superman. Definitely.”

Louis wrinkles his nose in distaste, throwing his napkin on the table and scooting his chair back as if he’s about to get up. “Horrible. Awful. Don’t think I want to continue this date anymore, Harry, you obviously have terrible taste.”

Harry grins and grabs at Louis’ hand. “Louis! Stop,” he whines. “No games. What’s this all about?”

Louis’ face clears as he moves forward, scooting his chair close to the table again. For the first time tonight he actually looks a little nervous. He toys with his napkin and clears his throat before he says, “I just…I don’t want to see you go out with those twats anymore, Harry.”

Harry frowns. “Is this a pity date, then?”

“No!” Louis protests. “This is…I like you. Always have, Harry,” he says, expression soft. “We just never did anything about it.”

“I didn’t know,” Harry murmurs, staring hard at the tablecloth in front of him.

“And here I was thinking I was obvious,” Louis laughs. “I want to give this a try, H.”

“You know I’m in this for the long haul, right, Louis? I’m not playing around with dating anymore. I want commitment and seriousness and children.”

Louis’ eyes soften as he reaches forward to grab one of Harry’s hands. “We’re on the same page there, babe.”

Harry’s thoughts are racing a mile a minute. Never in a million years did he expect this. He wished it, of course, but he always thought Louis would settle down with someone who was decidedly not Harry. To know that Louis wants him, wants the things he wants, is incredible.

Later, over dessert, Harry brings up the question that’s been nagging him since he walked in.

“How did you even organize this, Louis? I didn’t think you knew Jade that well,” he says, cocking his head to one side.

Louis smirks and swirls his wine glass around. “We text sometimes. When you brought me to that one office party I had a drunk heart-to-heart with her. May or may not have confessed some dirty fantasies, which I’m shocked she’s kept a lid on about.” Louis smiles at him, eyes dark over the rim of his glass, and – alright. It’s one thing to know that Louis feels the same, and entirely another to know he really feels the same. Dirty fantasies. Christ.

“Can we get a check?” he calls out to the waitress passing by. It’s time to go home.


Harry took a cab to the restaurant, so he drives home with Louis. The ride is silent except for the low hum of music tinkling out of the speakers and the soft pitter-patter of rain on the windshield. Harry keeps sneaking glances at Louis, trailing his eyes over his cheekbones and his lashes until he gets caught, Louis casting him an amused glance.

“See something you like, H?”

Harry bites his lip against the uncontrollable smile forming and turns his head to stare out the window. He feels a hand come to rest on his thigh, however, and looks down to see Louis’ small hand, palm-up. He threads his fingers in between Louis’ and squeezes as they hold hands for the rest of the short ride home.

It’s really, really nice.


Harry doesn’t really know what to do with himself when they walk through the door of their flat. He knows what he wants to do, what he’s wanted to do all night – for the past few years, really. He wants to kiss Louis. Kiss him on his forehead, smoothing the tight lines of stress that have formed over the years. Kiss his perfectly arched eyebrow, where Louis used to have a piercing Harry mercilessly teased him about (Secretly he loved it – maybe even wanted to lick it a little.). Kiss his button nose, making it scrunch up in that cute way it does when Harry makes a dumb joke. Kiss his collar bones, maybe nip them a little and soothe them with his tongue. But really, he wants to finally kiss his pretty pink lips he’s dreamed about for too long. He wants it more than anything.

The two of them dawdle outside the living room, awkwardly shifting their weight from foot to foot when suddenly Harry’s pushed against the wall, Louis’ smaller frame crowding into his. He stares at Louis in surprise, but Louis merely shrugs nervously and – yes. He leans forwards and presses his lips against Harry’s delicately, opening his mouth slightly to wedge Harry’s bottom lip in between his own. Harry reaches a hand up to cup Louis’ cheek, running a thumb along the bone.

Louis presses forward, forcing Harry up against the wall as he deepens the kiss. He slides his tongue into Harry’s mouth and tugs at the roots of his hair. Harry moans and lets his head fall back as he grabs the back of Louis’ neck with one hand and digs his nails into his back with the other. With a shift of his hips, Louis slides one of his thighs in between Harry’s to rock gently against him. Neither of them is hard yet, but the dull ache in Harry’s groin is growing more persistent with every push. Louis pushes one hand under his shirt to tickle along his waist, eventually pausing at the slight dip in his waist and grabbing on hard. Harry gasps into their kiss and bucks his hips in response, tugging Louis impossibly closer, slowing their thrusts into hard grinds.

Louis pulls away to take a breath and presses his face into the juncture of Harry’s neck, letting his hot breaths tickle across Harry’s collarbones. Harry whines and pushes Louis away. The other boy gives him a wounded look, but Harry just shakes his head and grabs his hand, pulling him toward the couch. He falls length-wise on the sofa with his head resting on the arm rest and pulls Louis forward. Louis clambers on top, shifting his knees so that he rests above Harry, straddling his thighs.

Harry settles each hand around Louis’ hipbones and squeezes, gently pressing him down. Louis takes the hint and nestles his arse against Harry’s crotch, making slow, purposeful movements designed to drive Harry crazy. Harry whines and throws his head back, leaving his neck exposed. He catches him off guard as he leans down and bites against Harry’s neck vein, quickly soothing the pain away with a swipe of his tongue. Harry gasps and tugs at Louis’ hips, guiding him against his cock.

“Fuck, Lou, you feel so good,” Harry murmurs. Louis hums against his neck and bites again before lifting himself off, ignoring Harry’s complaints.

Harry quiets down though when he sees Louis unzip his jeans and strip. It’s not like he hasn’t seen Louis naked before – they live together, obviously – but it’s the first time he’s seen him strip, let alone strip for him with the express intent of getting naked and frisky. Harry shudders with excitement at the sight of each inch of exposed skin and trails his hand down to palm at his cock through his jeans. He pops his zipper open and shoves his hand inside, squeezing his length through his briefs. Louis smirks as he tosses his shirt off to the side and tucks his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers. Slowly, slowly, slowly he pulls them off and – fuck. Harry’s fucked.

Louis’ cock is…everything. Harry doesn’t even think that’s an exaggeration. Usually when Harry’s seen Louis naked he glances away from his dick to preserve some shred of sanity, lest his fantasies go haywire and he drops to his knees in front of him with his mouth wide open, but he’s never seen it like this. Louis is hard and thick – so, so thick – and Harry wants nothing more than to get it inside of him, anywhere.

Harry strips himself of his shirt and tugs his jeans down, kicking them to the foot of the couch, so he can rest with his head against the arm rest and make grabby hands toward Louis. Louis gives a small, breathless laugh, and climbs back onto the couch, kneeing himself forward until he’s straddling Harry’s chest with his cock bobbing above Harry’s mouth.

Harry looks at the head of Louis’ cock and darts his tongue out to lick at the bead of liquid forming at the tip. Louis groans and thrusts forward, accidentally smearing his stickiness against Harry’s cheek. Harry whines and brings his hand up to wrap around the base of his cock, guiding it back to his lips. He presses gentle kisses along the length before wrapping his lips around the tip and suckling gently at the head. He licks around the head of his cock and then lets his tongue rest along the underside, savoring the salty, slightly bitter taste of Louis in his mouth. He moves his other hand back to grab one cheek of Louis’ arse and squeezes, making Louis throw his head back to let out a shattered moan.

Harry doesn’t have it in himself to tease anymore; he urges Louis’ hips forward, taking more of Louis’ cock into his mouth until his throat is burning and his lips meet his fingers at the base. Louis hisses and tugs at Harry’s hair, keeping his head in place as he rocks inside his mouth.

“So good, Harry, Christ. Just take me so easily, don’t you baby?” he asks. Harry whines around Louis’ dick as his eyes blur with tears. “Sucking me so good, sweetheart. Love my cock, don’t you?” Harry moans and nods the best he can with his head nestled against Louis’ belly.

“Want me to fuck you, baby?” Louis asks. Harry moans even louder at that, letting the vibrations wash over Louis’ cock.

Louis lets go of Harry’s hair and pulls out with a slick pop. A trail of spit connects his lips with Louis’ cock and he moans as the other boy swipes his thumb over his lip, smearing the wetness around.

Louis shuffles back until he’s kneeling widely over Harry’s legs. He presses them against Harry’s chest and tugs his briefs off; Harry lets out a relieved sigh as his cock bobs against his tummy, smearing a slight trail of stickiness against his belly.

“Lube, need lube,” Louis mutters. He starts to get up, but Harry tugs him back and points to his jeans.

“Little packet in my wallet,” he says. Louis raises his eyebrow and scoffs good-naturedly, reaching back to search his pockets for his wallet. He pulls the little packet out and rips it open with his teeth, dribbling a little on his fingers. He leans over Harry’s torso for a kiss while he fits his hand between them, tracing his wet fingers over Harry’s rim.

Harry shivers at the sensation and watches Louis through hooded eyes. It’s amazing seeing Louis like this -- his face flushed, lips swollen, eyes dark with hunger. Harry’s especially fascinated with the ripple of muscles in Louis’ forearm as he teases at Harry’s hole, applying the slightest hints of pressure before letting off.

“Stop teasing me,” Harry complains breathlessly.

“Now why would I do that?” Louis responds, one half of his mouth turned up in a dirty smirk. “Wouldn’t wanna get you desperate for it.”

“I’ve been desperate for fucking years, Louis,” Harry argues. He supposes those were the magic words, because without much warning Louis presses his middle finger inside. Harry knows he’s tight – he’s felt it with his own fingers on a depressingly regular basis. Louis seems a little overwhelmed though; Harry watches as he clenches his eyes shut and his mouth falls open.

“Feel so good, Harry, can’t wait –,” he cuts himself off with a groan and wiggles his finger around to stretch him out. Harry whines and begs for more, moaning loudly when Louis’ pointer finger joins the other. The pads of Louis’ fingers tickle against his prostate and Harry whines, digging his arse into the couch while he arches his back.

“There, Lou, there, please,” he begs. He watches through narrowed slits as Louis quickens the pace, jabbing incessantly at the same spot. He fixes his eyes on the tattoo on Louis’ bicep, the “Far Away,” that ripples with every thrust of his arm. It’s too much; Harry has to close his eyes and turn his head to smush his face against the arm rest.

“No, no, no, baby, look at me,” Louis whispers as he adds another finger. The stretch is burning, but in the most pleasurable of ways. Harry struggles to open his lids and keep eye contact with Louis, whose baby blues are dark and dilated. Louis widens his fingers inside of him and Harry hisses at the burn as his mouth falls open.

He’s so desperate for Louis; he just wants the real thing. He leans up as best he can and presses his lips to Louis’ ear, whispering, “Fuck me.”

“You sure?” Louis murmurs. Harry whines and pushes at Louis’ hand, nodding, until Louis pulls out and grabs the discarded packet of lube. He pours it over his cock and pumps a few times, trailing his eyes all over Harry’s body, gaze resting eventually on Harry’s hole. He tugs his thighs up and bends them until they’re rested against his torso, bending him in half. With his forearm pressed along the back of both of Harry’s knees, Louis uses his other hand to guide the head of his cock to his rim. He circles it around teasingly, pushing in a little and then withdrawing to circle around again. Harry huffs out an annoyed breath and glares at Louis through his kneecaps.

“Fuck. Me.” Louis laughs and presses inside slowly, moving his hands to clasp along the back of Harry’s knees.

Harry gasps at the thick stretch of Louis’ cock and whimpers, fighting to spread his legs further apart. It hurts like a persistent ache, and Harry knows he’ll be sore for days after this, but he can’t bring himself to care. With one last shove, Louis’ nestled with his hips against Harry’s arse. Harry is writhing and gasping, overcome with the sensation of Louis so hot and hard inside of him.

Louis leans down and hitches Harry’s legs over his shoulder so that his head is situated in between Harry’s kneecaps. He stares down at Harry with his mouth open and panting, waiting for Harry to give him the cue to move. Harry moans and nods, and then Louis starts to thrust.

He pulls out almost completely, just the head of his cock inside, and Harry almost whimpers at the loss. But then he’s thrusting back inside, the wet slap of their skin echoing in the silent room.

“Tell me how you feel, baby, tell me how good it is,” Louis demands.

Harry whines and tries to clear his head. He wants Louis to know just how crazy he’s driving him, how much he wants this.

“So hot, Louis, you feel so hot,” he wails. “Splitting me open on your cock, babe, fuck.”

Louis’ pace falters momentarily, but then he’s doubling up on his thrusts, slamming harder each second.

“Love your cock, Lou, love it so much. So fucking thick inside me, stretching me apart,” Harry continues, gaining confidence. He trails his fingers through Louis’ feathery strands of hair and tugs as he throws his own head back, curls twisted over his forehead. He feels sweat drip from his brow and small tears fall from down his face. He runs his tongue along the side of his cheek to lick the salty tear up and Louis’ eyes track the movement.

“You like fucking me, Lou?” Harry asks, biting down on his lip as Louis thrusts particularly hard, getting close to his prostate. “Am I tight enough for you?”

“So tight, Harry, so bloody tight,” Louis moans. He digs his nails into Harry’s inner thighs and Harry shudders at the painful shock of sensation.

“Harder, baby, fuck me harder,” Harry mutters under his breath. “See how good I can take it, how good I’ll be for you.”

Louis leans back a little and takes Harry’s legs with him, lifting him up slightly until Harry’s back is almost off the couch. Harry throws his hands back behind him to anchor himself to the couch as Louis thrusts harder, aiming with precision at his prostate.

Harry loses any coherency he had and babbles loudly about how hot Louis is, how good his cock feels, how stretched out he feels around him. It seems to be too much for Louis because then he’s pressing the palm of his hand over his mouth to shut him up. Harry’s eyes fly open at the contact and find Louis staring down at him, a hot look in his eyes. Slowly, Louis moves his hands and then sinks two of his fingers inside Harry’s mouth to press down on his tongue. Harry moans around his fingers and sucks, running his tongue along the digits.

“Christ, Harry,” Louis moans. He works his hips harder, ramming deep inside Harry. The couch begins to creak dangerously beneath them; Harry thinks he hears a spring pop, but he’s too far gone to care, moaning loudly around Louis’ fingers.

He can feel the stirring of his orgasm in his belly, coiling quickly and making his abdomen tighten up in anticipation. He’s never come untouched before, but with the head of Louis’ cock hitting his prostate with every few thrusts and the pressure of Louis’ fingers against his tongue, he knows this will be the first.

It happens without much warning. His eyes fly open as he lets go of Louis’ fingers and wails, his cock jerking and spilling out onto his stomach. Louis moans at the sight and fucks harder, seeking his own release, as Harry’s come slowly finishes dribbling out.

Harry’s blissed out, letting out hiccupy sighs with each thrust into his oversensitive body. With a shout, Louis stills and Harry can feel him come inside him, pulsing hot loads of come into his arse.

Louis eventually lets go of Harry’s thighs; Harry finally feels the burn of their activities in the form of a slightly painful twinge in his back and an ache in his thighs, but the warm haze of his orgasm glosses over everything. He pulls Louis against his chest, ignoring the uncomfortable stickiness between them, whimpering a little when Louis finally pulls out.

“Gonna get a fucking noise complaint, Harry, fuck,” Louis pants.

“You told me to talk!” Harry protests.

Louis grins and nuzzles his nose into Harry’s temple, pressing small kisses along the side of his face and his ear. “I’d take a million noise complaints for you, babe.” He shifts his knees around and frowns, looking around him at the couch.

“I think…we might have broken the couch, Harry.”

Harry gasps and tries to sit up to see what Louis’ talking about. The middle section of the couch seems to have sunken in and the couch wobbles a little with every movement.

“That’s…impressive,” Louis says. Harry sputters a laugh and clasps his hand over his face. “Guess we need to buy a new one.”

“No!” Harry complains. “Can’t we get it fixed somehow? I want to come out here to watch TV and remember the first time we fucked,” he pouts.

“Babe, I think this is beyond repair,” Louis argues. Harry pouts his bottom lip and strokes his hands over the fabric of the couch. “We can get a sturdier one though and make some new memories,” Louis offers.

Harry gives Louis a filthy grin and tugs him in for a guess. New memories with Louis. Perfect.


Six Months Later…

It’s Christmas Eve and Harry’s locked in the bathroom of their flat. Both of their families are crowded on the couches in their living room watching Christmas specials and eating birthday cake, but Harry is sitting on the closed seat of the toilet with a thin plastic stick in his hand. A stick that’ll potentially make this the best Christmas he’s ever had.

He bites his lip, toe tapping nervously on the floor, eyes flickering from the snowy window back to the stick and back.

And then – it’s there. A little pink plus.

Numbly, Harry stands up and unlocks the door, stepping into the hallway and shutting the door closed behind him. He ambles quietly to the living room and stands in the doorway, staring at Louis. The other man is laughing at the television as he tickles his younger sister, but at the sight of Harry he stops and smiles, quirking his head in question. He untangles himself from Phoebe and shuffles hesitantly up to Harry, placing a hand on his cheek in worry.

“You alright, babe? You look a little pale,” he says.

Harry nods and then he’s grinning impossibly wide, barely containing the yips of excitement threatening to escape.

“Pregnant,” he whispers. “I’m – we’re pregnant, Louis.”

Louis’ eyes widen as the words process and then he’s squeezing Harry’s cheeks in between both hands.

“You’re serious?” he questions. “Not fucking around?”

Harry shakes his head and stomps his feet in an excited little shuffle. “Pregnant, Louis. We’re having a baby!”

There’s a beat of silence and then Louis whoops and wraps his arms around Harry, screeching, “Gonna be dads Harry!”

Harry can hear the gasps of their mothers behind them, but he can’t bring himself to break away from Louis’ grasp.

He doesn’t think he’s ever been happier.


Harry’s big. It’s not that he minds the extra weight, knowing that it’s because of a little life blooming inside of him. It’s the fact that the butterfly tattoo on his tummy has stretched out to an unforgivable degree. He has a mutant butterfly on his stomach.

He likes all of his tattoos, he really does, but he’s unbearably self-conscious now, reluctant to take his shirt off in front of Louis. And it’s so fucking hard, because he’s almost eight months pregnant and horny as hell, but he can only have sex if he has a t-shirt stretched across his belly.

To Louis’ credit, he doesn’t complain about this quirk, merely shooting Harry a confused frown when Harry shoves his shirt down whenever Louis tries to lift it. Harry hasn’t allowed Louis to come with him on doctor’s visits for the past two months, though, and Louis’ beginning to tire of not being involved in the process.

It comes to a head one day when Louis walks in on Harry showering and Harry pulls a towel to his chest to cover himself. In the shower.

“Harry…” Louis begins. “Why are you hiding behind a towel?”

Harry can feel himself flush as he looks down at the floor of the shower. The water slowly swirls down the drain; Harry envies that water.

“Don’t want you to see me like this,” Harry mumbles. He folds his arms under his chest and pouts as the towel gets drenched.

“See you like what, H? Pregnant?” Louis asks. There’s a baffled tone to his voice that Harry takes a little offense to.

“I look awful, Lou. My butterfly looks pregnant,” Harry whines. He throws his sopping wet towel off to the side and makes a grand gesture at his belly in frustration. “Do you know what this is going to look like when I give birth? Like the butterfly got run over by a car, Lou. A fucking car.”

Louis’ expression softens as he tuts sympathetically. “Baby, you can get it retouched, you know. And I’m not sure why you think I care what your tattoo looks like. I’d want to be with you even if the tattoo took the shape of a dick. Maybe even more, then.”

Harry huffs out a laugh and smiles a little, rubbing his belly. “You really don’t mind?”

Louis grins and tugs Harry out of the shower, careful to grab his hips so he doesn’t slip and fall. “I’ll show you how much I love it, baby.”


Harry’s on fire. Not literally, but he suspects he’d feel the same if he was. He’s perched in Louis’ lap in their bed, thighs tense and aching as he slowly fucks himself on Louis’ cock. Louis is laying back on the bed, arms folded behind his head, watching Harry work to get himself off. Louis has been waiting on Harry hand and foot for the entire pregnancy – rightfully so, Harry thinks – but Harry decided to take control when they left the shower and show Louis how much he appreciates him.

He runs his hands languidly over his thighs and then sinks backwards, propping himself up with his hands clasped around Louis’ knees.

Louis lets out a breathy moan and moves his arms, smoothing his hands all over Harry’s body. He rubs his sore nipples, pinching them in between two fingers. Harry’s body jerks at the surprise touch and he gasps, thrusting his hips harder down onto Louis. Louis sits up and holds Harry to him with one hand on his lower back, keeping his other attached to his nipple.

“So pretty, Harry. So fucking pretty,” he says reverently. He runs his hand down Harry’s torso to rest on his belly, tracing the blob of his butterfly tattoo. “Everything about you.”

Harry whines and shudders. “Love you so much, Lou.”

“Love you too, darling,” Louis replies. “Love your body. Love your belly. Love that baby inside you. I can’t believe you’re pregnant, H. We’re gonna have a baby.”

“Bit inopportune time for chit-chat, Lou,” Harry teases breathlessly. But secretly he feels a thrill of excitement shoot through him at Louis’ words. A baby. There’s a baby inside him.

A year and a half ago Harry would have scoffed if he’d been told this would happen. Engaged to Louis, having a baby with him. But it’s all real.

Harry smiles to himself and bounces harder, panting with exertion as he feels his orgasm build. “Touch me, Lou.”

Louis runs his hands down from Harry’s belly to pump his cock. It only takes a few strokes and Harry’s coming all over himself and Louis. Louis stills beneath him and thrusts deep, groaning as he comes too.

After, when Harry’s cleaned off and they’re both resting on their sides facing each other, Louis strokes his hands along the new curves in Harry’s body and smiles.

“Really like your belly, babe. And your pregnant butterfly.”


Elizabeth Annabelle Tomlinson is born on July 3rd. Their families tease them about the simple name, but Harry knows Anne and Jay are secretly touched at the subtle namesake.

Harry is wildly in love. More in love than ever with Louis, of course, but Harry’s heart nearly bursts every time he looks down at the pinched face of their baby girl. He’s in love when he wakes up at 3am in the morning to feed her. He’s in love when he’s running off of two hours of sleep. He’s in love when he’s getting his tattoo retouched to make it look less like a blob. (He has to fix it four more times for the other babies they have. Eventually it begins to weirdly resemble a cat. Harry doesn’t think he cares.) He’s even in love when he’s changing her diaper or cleaning the puke out of his expensive dress shirt.

Harry Tomlinson has a baby, and, as cliché as he thinks it may be, he thinks he’s living his own happily ever after.