old money || l.s mpreg

xiii.

A few months earlier

Louis' feet crunched against the heavy gravel on the ground. He had his gun hidden in the pocket of his jeans, his fist balled to his sides. He told himself multiple times in the car not to be so stiff, but there's anger boiling in the pit of his stomach and spreading throughout his entire body. It's almost impossible to be able to stop it. He breathed out a sigh, his breath clouding from the frigidness of the air. He knocked three hard times on the door of the garage and it opened seconds later.

Claude raised an eyebrow. "Why so aloof?"

Louis couldn't even control it. His hands wrapped around Claude's long neck, pushing him into the wall. "What the fuck are you telling Dad?!"

"Jesus, pipe down." Claude grumbled, shoving his brother's hands off of him. He brushed off his shirt, as if he were touched there and glared at the older man. "I haven't told him anything, I'm simply watching over you after you've run away with a fucking Italian."

"There is nothing wrong with him."

"There is and you know it, William. We have been hating The Styles for decades. Our great, great grandmother Louise fought and killed Carlo Ricci. Our parents named you after her, and you go and disrespect our hard earned ships and accomplishments because of some fucking whore?"

Louis clenched his jaw. "It wasn't even my choice whether or not I wanted to be apart of this. Actually, none of us chose this. We were born into it, there's so much more that we could've been doing but instead we were forced, all because of our parents. If you want to continue then that's fine by me, but I'm not." Claude shook his head at his brother, chuckling under his breath. "That's all The Styles are about, brainwashing and manipulating people. If anything happens to you because of that trick, just know Father and I tried to warn you."

The man shrugged, his hands moving away from his gun. " If you try anything with us I will fucking kill you." He threatened.

♔

They were in the kitchen currently. Harry's been obsessed with playing Italian music for Emilia, because he wanted badly for her to learn it immediately when she's able to talk. It was for the sake of himself and his grandmother, he made a promise to Chiara that he'd keep that with his family no matter how far away from Italy they are. There were onions sautéing on the stove, he told Louis that he'd cook something delicious for them. Louis wrapped his hands around the pregnant man's waist, moving his hips along with his.

Harry giggled into his neck, breathing in the heavy scent of his cologne. He probably had just come back from a smoke on the porch, he had some strange belief that if he smelt like cigarettes it would hurt Harry. Sure, he struggled with asthma when he was a child but somehow his Dad was able to stop that. "È bello 'e faccia, è bello 'e core. Sape fa 'ammore, è malandrino, è tentatore." Louis sang.

Harry grinned, kissing his nose. "I love when you speak Italian."

He hummed, spinning Harry around. "Didn't you say your grandma used to listen to this?" Harry nodded in confirmation, smiling at the memory. "Always. Especially when she was cooking, she said it was a nice song but I could never sing it."

Louis swayed him around for awhile until the timer on the oven beeped, indicating that the onions should be finished cooking. Harry skipped to the stove, grabbing the spatula. Clifford ran inside the house after being in the backyard and barked loudly. "Ah, shit." Louis mumbled, noticing the mud tracks he made on the wood.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked, his back turned.

The older man sucked his teeth, bending down to scratch under Clifford's ear. "Nothin'." He lied. If he were to tell the truth -- he would have been pissed. It's better to have a happy Harry than an angry, especially with his hormones being everywhere nowadays. Louis swatted Clifford's bum to get him moving from the entry way so he could clean the floor.