Work Text:
Becoming pregnant was not something that Louis had ever wanted. Harry, on the other hand, was a different story. Even though he was a cisgender male, he dreamed of having a baby of his own. He had always loved babies, and whenever one was in sight, he couldn't help himself but to try to interact with it in some way.
It wasn't that Louis didn't love babies, and it wasn't that he didn't love that Harry loved babies. Before they realized he was pregnant, they had talked about adopting, or even surrogacy later on down the road. Now that Louis was pregnant, though, their plans had obviously had to change.
Being transgender and in the process of transitioning, Louis hadn't wanted to put everything on hold. He was already fairly far along on testosterone, and he and Harry had been beginning to discuss top and bottom surgery.
However, it didn't take too long for Louis to warm up to the idea of having the baby. He and Harry both knew that they wanted kids, and this way, the baby would be coming from both of them, not one or the other or neither. Besides, after Louis had the baby, he would be able to resume the testosterone and continue the transitioning process, and if they wanted more children after that, they could simply revert back to their original options of adoption or surrogacy.
However, the circumstances still weren't ideal. Harry and Louis were not married, though they were engaged, and they were currently living in an apartment. Thankfully both had fairly well-paying jobs, but their plan had been to get married, buy a house, and then think about kids. They understood, though, that not everything goes according to plan, and it was what it was. Besides, they would have plenty of help between both Harry and Louis' families as well as from family friends. They knew they could do it and they were excited, but day to day life lately had been difficult due to the circumstances.
Louis worked as a receptionist at hospital and had yet to take his maternity leave, and Harry worked as an accountant. Louis often arrived home earlier than Harry, mostly because Harry's job was farther away, but Harry usually arrived in time to make dinner. If he was running late, he'd often pick something up on the way home or text Louis to start some pasta (one of the only things he was capable of making). Now that Louis was pregnant, though, Harry wanted him to relax after work and not have to worry about making dinner on top of the household chores he still insisted on doing.
Today, Louis had gotten home early, having wanted to get off work as soon as possible to come home and rest. He had been feeling unwell all day, and he could tell that his hormones were all over the place because he had also been very emotional. His first order of business was to change out of his work clothes as well as his binder, which became very uncomfortable after so many hours of use.
He first slipped out of his black trousers, shimmying into a pair of black skinny jeans instead. However, when he went to button them, he found the task to be impossible.
"Fuck," he whimpered, frustratedly kicking the jeans off and lowering himself to the floor. He could see himself in the full length mirror hanging on the wall, and upon seeing his baby bump, he let out a frustrated sob. He hated his bump. It was just one more thing that made him look womanly. He could reduce the appearance of his breasts with his binder, he could cut his hair, and he could wear men's clothes, but he couldn't do anything to disguise the bump.
If Louis were being honest, he never had liked his body. Even before his pregnancy, he had had a bit of a tummy (as well as love handles, which were some of Harry's favorite places to kiss). He was curvy, his hips mildly extenuated and his thighs shapely. He had always been short, though, only ever reaching five feet, five inches tall. He wished he could be taller, like Harry, but Harry always told him that he loved him just the way he was and that he shouldn't compare his body to anyone else's. Such a thing was hard for Louis to do, as he often felt inadequate. But Harry was always so lovely, reminding him of how handsome he was and giving him kisses in all of the places that Louis wanted to hide. Sometimes Louis wondered how Harry could possibly find him attractive, but he knew he would never lie to him.
All this thinking about Harry made Louis wish he was home. It wouldn't be much longer now, but he desperately needed someone to take care of him. After the button incident, he didn't feel like changing into anything else, so he was left in a pair of boxers and a button down shirt. He was also hungry, craving some pickles and mustard (his current pregnancy craving), but he was much too tired and emotional to get up and walk to the kitchen to get anything. On top of that, he needed to wee. Deciding that was the one thing he could bring himself to do, he shakily stood up and was met with his full figure in the mirror. He felt his bottom lip wobble, but he flipped the mirror off before he could enter another wave of tears.
Once finished in the bathroom, Louis checked the time on his phone and saw a text from Harry. It read: home in 5. fried rice sound good for dinner?
Louis bit his lip. He definitely didn't want fried rice for dinner, but he also didn't want to hurt Harry's feelings. He decided not to reply to the text and instead just wait to talk to Harry once he was home. He sat down on the sofa and placed his socked feet on the coffee table. He couldn't stop thinking about pickles and mustard, but he still didn't have enough energy to go get them (which subsequently made him even more upset). By the time Harry got home, Louis was crying softly again. He rapidly swiped at his cheeks as he heard the door unlock and swing open, but there was no fooling his fiancé.
Harry's face softened, and he gently set down his things before approaching Louis and sitting down next to him on the sofa. "What's wrong, baby?"
Louis shrugged, picking at a lint ball on his boxers. "Everything."
Harry frowned. "Are you feeling okay? Why are you still in your work clothes, honey, you usually change."
"I tried to. B-but my jeans wouldn't- wouldn't fit," Louis sobbed. "I couldn't b-button them."
"Oh, I'm sorry, love," Harry soothed. "It's only the baby getting bigger, though. We can buy you some new jeans that will fit, yeah?"
"I- I wanted to wear those, though," Louis whimpered, leaning into Harry. Harry wrapped his arm around him and pecked the top of his head.
"I know, love, that's disappointing. Do you maybe wanna try a pair of my jeans? I'm a couple sizes bigger than you."
Louis nodded. "The ripped ones with the paint, please."
"I'll see if I can find those," Harry smiled reassuringly before eyeing Louis' shirt. "Do you- do you still have your binder on?"
Louis blushed and nodded.
"Do you want one of my big t-shirts to wear so you can take that off and be comfy? Or one of my jumpers?"
"Yes, please, H," Louis replied softly.
"Okay, baby, I'll be back."
Harry knew that the jeans weren't the only reason Louis was upset. He could tell his gender dysphoria was acting up again, but he hadn't wanted to bring it up right away. Sometimes it was better to deal with it subtly rather than to mention it outright.
Searching through his drawers, Harry breathed a sigh of relief upon finding the jeans that Louis wanted to wear. He tucked them under his arm and then grabbed the t-shirt he had worn yesterday (Louis loved wearing things that smelled like him) and a tan jumper. He then quickly made his way back to his Louis, kneeling in front of him on the floor and setting the clothes aside.
"Baby, are you okay with me seeing you right now? I wanna help you get dressed, I can tell you're tired."
"Course, Hazza, why?" Louis stuck his feet out so Harry could take his socks off.
Harry hummed softly, squeezing his feet. "I'm just sensing that you're feeling a little insecure, love, and I just wanted to make sure you were comfortable."
Louis bit his lip and didn't reply for a moment. Harry allowed him to take his time, rubbing his thumb over the tops of his feet encouragingly.
"I- I was looking in the mirror earlier. The one in our room. And it didn't- it didn't make me feel very good about myself."
Harry frowned, leaning forward to press a peck to Louis' forehead. "I'm sorry to hear that, Lo. Is it your bump that's bothering you?"
Louis nodded. "I don't like that it's getting bigger. It's hard to feel like a man when you have a baby bump," he hiccuped, and Harry squeezed his hand.
"Baby, I've told you this before and I'll never stop telling you until you believe it. Your bump doesn't make you any less of a man. I love your bump. And I love you, sweetheart. I love every single part of you, yeah? Even the parts that you don't like about yourself. I wish you would be kinder to yourself, Lo, because I think you're so, so handsome."
Louis sniffled. "Even with my bump?"
"Of course, my love."
Louis smiled, blushing a bit. Harry smiled goofily in return before leaning in for a kiss.
"I love you," Harry told him when he pulled away.
"Love you," Louis replied softly.
Harry tickled the undersides of his feet. "Let's get these sweaty socks off now, yeah?" he chuckled.
Louis allowed Harry to pull his socks off before moving on to his shirt. Harry quickly unbuttoned it and helped him slip it off, and Louis then lifted his arms so he could pull his white t-shirt off. He was left in only his binder (and his boxers), and Harry rose an eyebrow as if to make sure it was okay that he helped him out of it. Louis nodded and stuck his arms up again, and Harry, as gently as he could, pulled the binder over his head and immediately averted his attention to grabbing the t-shirt he had brought for Louis. Louis felt a bit awkward as he sat topless in front of Harry, but he resisted the urge to cover his chest.
"Arms up again, Lo."
Louis felt relieved to be covered again, Harry helping him into the jumper next before moving on to the jeans. They ended up being just a little bit big, but that was much better than the previous scenario.
"Thanks for letting me wear your clothes, H. And for helping me get dressed," Louis told Harry shyly as he folded his binder for him and set it aside while he gathered his work clothes.
"Course, baby, always. You ready for some dinner? I was thinking about making pork fried rice. Did you get my text?"
Louis' heart sank. "I'm- y-yeah, Hazza, but-" he couldn't even get the words out before he was starting to cry again. A pained expression made its way onto Harry's face, and he was quick to sit down next to Louis and take his hand.
"What's wrong, baby?"
"I- I didn't answer you," Louis cried.
"Lo, it's okay, I'm not upset."
"B- but," Louis hiccuped, swiping at his cheeks with his sweater paws. "Can- can we have s-something else? I'm sorry, Hazza, I just-" he released another sob, and Harry squeezed his hand.
"You don't have to be sorry, love, I understand! We don't have to have pork fried rice, I was just thinking about that pork we bought yesterday. But we can save that and have it another time. What would you like instead, LoLo?"
Louis shrugged, continuing to swipe at his face with his sweater paws. Harry gently grabbed hold of his wrists and moved them away from Louis' face in order to peck his nose. "Pizza?"
Louis shyly shook his head.
"Pasta?"
"Um- maybe something light? I'm feeling a bit nauseous."
"You are, honey? Do you feel like you're gonna be sick?" Harry asked, concerned.
"No, it's not that bad. I- I think it might just be hunger. Or a combination of things. Do we- can you check if we have any pickles? I'm sorry, I've just been craving them since I got home."
Harry smiled, sweeping Louis' soft fringe to the side. "I'll get you some pickles, love. But let's figure out what we're having for dinner, yeah? Would you fancy an omelette? Or some oatmeal?"
"Oatmeal sounds nice," Louis replied.
"Alright, Lo. I'll be right back with your pickles and then I'll get that started. Did you want mustard with those?"
"Yes, please, Hazza," Louis told his fiancé.
Harry blew him a kiss before exiting to the kitchen to prepare Louis' beloved pickles and mustard. It didn't take long, and he decided to dampen a washcloth as well to clean Louis' face with.
"Thank you, H," Louis smiled as Harry handed him his plate and set a glass of ice water on a coaster on the coffee table.
"You're welcome, sweetheart," Harry replied. "I, um- would you let me clean your face? I brought a warm washcloth."
Louis smiled shyly. "Okay. But hurry up so I can eat my pickles."
Harry chuckled, glad Louis was feeling more like himself. He then ever so gently ran the washcloth over his face, leaning in for a kiss once he finished. Louis reciprocated, and upon pulling away, Harry pecked his forehead.
"I'll be making dinner, Lo. Call me if you need anything, yeah?"
Louis smiled and nodded, and once Harry had gone to the kitchen, he got comfortable on the sofa and turned on the tv. He felt a bit guilty that he was relaxing while Harry was hard at work (not really, he was only making oatmeal) in the kitchen, but he had had such a rough day that he knew he deserved to take it easy for a while. He couldn't wait until after dinner when he and Harry could cuddle up together and he would rub circles on his bump and kiss him.
It only took about half an hour for Harry to make the oatmeal, having checked on Louis halfway through and taken his plate away for him. Louis sat down across from Harry at the table now, a warm bowl of oatmeal topped with fresh blueberries and raspberries and a sprinkle of brown sugar placed in front of him. Harry had made him a cuppa as well, which he took a sip of before smiling graciously at him. "Thanks, Hazza. It looks delicious."
"I hope it is, love," Harry smiled fondly.
After a few bites, Louis set his spoon down and placed his hands on his thighs. Harry furrowed his eyebrows.
"You okay, Lo?"
Louis braced himself as oatmeal travelled up his throat. He gagged, and Harry shot up to grab the bin. He set it in front of Louis, who wiped away tears as he held in the oatmeal.
"Baby, just let it out, yeah? You'll feel better, it's okay."
Louis shook his head, but he gagged again and ultimately couldn't hold it in.
"That's it, Lo," Harry cooed softly, retrieving a napkin and wiping Louis' mouth off for him.
"S-sorry," Louis sobbed, beginning to swipe at his cheeks again.
"Honey, don't apologize," Harry swept his thumbs under his lover's eyes.
"B-but-" Louis hiccuped. "You worked s-so hard!"
Harry smiled reassuringly. "I hate to burst your bubble, sweetheart, but that oatmeal was incredibly easy to make. I'll just put your portion in the fridge and you can have it tomorrow, yeah? No worries at all."
Louis continued to cry, and Harry pulled him into a hug, shushing him softly. He felt terrible that Louis had had such a bad day, and he wished he could make it up to him. Once Louis had pulled away, he asked "Do you think it was the pickles, LoLo? Pickles are quite acidic. And I'm sure the mustard isn't helping."
Louis shrugged, obviously still sad. Harry pecked his nose and stood up. "Have your tea, love."
Louis wrapped both of his hands around his cuppa and peered into the mug. When he realized that Harry wasn't sitting back down across from him, though, he looked up.
"What are you doing?"
Harry opened the refrigerator, holding his bowl of oatmeal. "I don't feel right eating this when you can't have it."
"No, Harry. You must be so hungry, I'm sorry."
Harry shook his head, placing the bowl into the refrigerator. "I'll have it tomorrow, sweet pea. Do you think you could stomach some toast? Maybe some apple slices?"
Louis shrugged.
"I don't want you to go hungry, Lo. Will you try? For me?"
Louis nodded. "Only if you have some, too. And no jam."
"Alright, baby," Harry replied softly, placing two slices of bread into the toaster.
A few minutes later, he and Louis were both enjoying buttered toast and apple slices. Louis' didn't have the skin on (just how he liked them,), and Harry had figured they'd be easier to digest that way anyway.
Once finished, Harry cleaned up while telling Louis all of the corny jokes he had up his sleeve, missing his laugh. Louis called him a dork, and Harry kissed him.
After dinner was usually cuddle and watch tv time, so both men cuddled up on the sofa to an episode of Queer Eye. The sofa was large, and Harry was able to spoon Louis from behind, rubbing his bump and pressing the occasional kiss to anywhere he deemed fit (which was everywhere he could reach from where he was).
After a few re-watched episodes, both Harry and Louis' eyes began to droop closed. Harry nudged Louis into a sitting position before scooting out from behind him and hiking up his jeans (he had taken a break from making the oatmeal earlier to change). "Fancy a carry?"
Louis furrowed his eyebrows. " 'M too heavy, H."
Harry shook his head. "Bullshit. You're as light as a feather," he cooed as he scooped his lover up bridal style. Louis laughed, feeling secure in Harry's arms. Harry had no problem supporting him, but he knew he was carrying very precious cargo. Both Louis and their baby.
Upon entering their bedroom, Harry laid Louis down on their bed. Louis sat up, though, and told Harry he needed to use the bathroom. Harry gave Louis his privacy before going in to wash his face and brush his teeth alongside him. Once both were dressed in night clothes, they climbed into bed, Louis pressed against Harry's side. "I love you, LoLo. And I'm sorry you had such a bad day today."
Louis hummed. "Tomorrow's a new day. Thanks for helping me feel better, H, I don't know what I'd do without you."
"Drown in your own tears?" Harry joked.
Louis scoffed. "Yeah, probably. But seriously, I don't deserve you, Hazza."
Harry rolled his eyes. "That's the same way I feel about you, Lo. Get some sleep, okay? Te amo."
"Dork," Louis whispered amusedly.
Harry tickled his side, and Louis giggled. "Nighty night, H."
"Night, love," Harry pecked his cheek.
It had certainly been a difficult day for the both of them, but tomorrow would be a fresh start. Harry hoped he would come home to a happy Louis chomping on his pickles and mustard, but he was truly unpredictable these days. Harry loved him to pieces, though, and he would be right there with him throughout the rest of his pregnancy and beyond.