Larry Stylinson: These Arms Were Made For Holding You

Eplilogue: Louis

 "Papa, can I get Dad," Darcy asked, early on Christmas morning two years later. Over the past two years, Darcy had grown up in every aspect she could. Her eyes brightened, she grew taller, and her hair was very long at this point.

"Not yet, lovebug," I tell her, knowing he would be upset if she woke him up at seven in the morning. She cringed slightly at the nickname, having told me time and time again she didn't like the nickname because it associated her with a bug. "Dad will be upset if you wake him up before nine," I remind her. She nods her head, coming to sit by me on the couch.

"Papa," she asked, smiling up at me. It was her signature 'I want something' smile. "Will you make me breakfast please," she asked, dragging it out at the end.

"Sure, love. What do you want?" She quickly rattled off a list of things she wanted for breakfast. I chuckled at her antics, handing her the tv remote as I got up to make some breakfast. She quickly changed the channel so she could watch her new favourite show.

"Food, Darce," I call, putting a plate at her spot at the table. I pour a glass of orange juice, her favorite, and place it by the plate. "Turn the tv off, please," I ask, dishing up a second plate for Harry. It had taken me nearly an hour to make the food and I knew he would have been upset had he missed breakfast.

I knocked gently on the bedroom door, opening it as Harry seemed to be stirring awake. He smiled up at me, clutching the blanket around him and curling into the blanket.

"Morning, baby," I greeted.

"Morning," he sleepily murmured, sitting up. He ruffled his hair, which he'd cut not long ago .

"Darcy asked for breakfast and I thought you'd like some while it's still hot," I tell him, handing him the plate. He eagerly took the plate and scarfed down the food.

"How many times has she asked to wake me up," he asked in between mouthfuls.

"Only once," I tell him, plopping down on the bed next to him. It was quite the surprise, actually, as she normally would have asked around five times at this point.

"Only once," he asked, surprised, with a mouthful of pancake. I nodded, rolling over so our sides were pressed against one another. This has become our little CHristmas tradition. Darcy would beg for us to get up, I'd make her breakfast and she'd watch cartoons while Harry and I would snuggle and talk like we used to do when we were in high school.

"I think the fans think we've both died," I tell him scrolling through Twitter. Neither one of us had really been active on social media since we got married and we'd done everything short of moving to an abandoned island or turning ourselves invisible to stay out of the public eye. I looked through tweet after tweet, each one convinced we'd died.

whore4harry: I know we've all been saying this, but I seriously think h&l died. Like both @harrytomlinson-styles and @louis_tomlinson-styles haven't been active in like two years. Like we haven't even gotten H saying anything about the album we know is coming... something is off.

"They're convinced you're putting out an album soon," I ask, reading through the tweet. He of course had been working on music, but he'd made no efforts in terms of recording or deciding which tracks he planned on putting on an album.

"They are, and as much as I love writing music, I really would rather not go through with all the interviews that would be associated with it," he explains, pulling me closer to him. "I'd much rather stay out of the public eye and show my husband how much I love him," he whispers softly into my ear, kissing right below it. "Merry Christmas, baby," he hums into my ear, his lips performing ungodly actions.

"Daddy, Papa," Darcy called, knocking on the door. Harry paused his movements, calling out for her to come into the bedroom. She'd learned very quickly that when the door was closed, it was best for her to knock when she'd walked in when we were doing something her young eyes definitely didn't need to see and for sure did not understand. "Can we open presents now," she asked, her signature puppy dog face appearing. Harry nodded, getting out of bed, and pulling me with him.

When we arrived downstairs, Darcy went straight to the tree, sorting through the presents, as Harry sat down on the couch, pulling me with him. Darcy tore through the wrapping paper, gift after gift, becoming more and more excited with each one. You could say she was properly spoiled that Christmas.

"Darcy, will you get Papa the one I made you promise not tell him about," Harry asked, gesturing towards the tree. She nodded, looking through the few remaining presents underneath the tree. She soon came over with a small box wrapped in shimmering green wrapping paper. I sat up slightly, gently taking the box from Darcy. I pulled on the wrapping paper, the wrapping coming undone quickly. The box itself was a white shoe box I was certain Darcy's shoes from the wedding had come in.

I gingerly pull the top off of the box, depositing it on the couch cousin next to me, before inspecting the box's contents. Inside the box there was a shirt, two polaroid shaped pictures, which had been flipped over, and several smaller pieces of clothing.

"Look at the pictures first," Harry instructed. I nodd, turning the photos over seeing two different sonograms with two different dates on them. I glanced over at Harry, confused as to what was happening. "Do you remember that first Christmas after we got married where you were joking around when we were talking about how we wanted more kids, but weren't sure when and you said that having more kids would be the greatest Christmas present ever," he questions. I nod, remembering the conversation. "Well, after that, I talked to Eleanore to see if she would be open to being a surrogate for us and she agreed very quickly. She and I went through with a lot, and she's pregnant with Styles-Tomlinson members numbers four and five," he tells me.

"Harry," I ask, looking over at him. "We're having more kids," I ask. He simply nodded, smiling at me.

"We're having more kids, baby," he tells me as I attack him in a hug, my eyes brimming with tears from the pure joy I was feeling in the moment.