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Do not read this if you have not finished Lethal. This is a one-shot specifically for the protagonists in that book.
Please note that this one-shot takes place roughly a few months after the one-shot "brooks."
It is highly recommended that readers revisit the bonus chapter on Lethal and refresh their memory on what happens.
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Harry promised Molly he'd get pictures of him and his son in a photo booth.
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Harry Styles
"Look right there, yeah? At the little camera," I point my finger just above the screen with our faces on it. "You see it?"
"That's me," My son, Brooks, ignores my desperate attempt to get him to look at the photo booth camera. Instead he reaches forward, pressing his index finger against his on-screen face. "And that's you," he takes his other finger and points at me through the same screen. "Look, look."
I readjust him in my lap, brushing his hair out of his face. "Okay, okay," I cave. I stare ahead into the screen, rather than the camera, focusing on his features. I sigh in admiration, "You look just like me. You know that?"
He sticks out his tongue, "No way. Yuck."
"Yes way," I mock, tickling his side. "You even act like me."
"Nuh-uh," he shakes his head from side to side. "You talk funnier."
My mouth gapes. There's no way this kid is making fun of my accent. I must be teaching him well.
I grin, "I think you're just jealous."
"What?" He blushes. "No."
My smile turns into a laugh as I tickle his side some more. After a couple seconds of pure laughter, I settle him down, "One day I'll take you back where I grew up, but first we've got to take these pictures. Your mother will be very sad if we don't come home with at least one good one."
He giggles, "You'll be in trouble."
"That's right," I nod. I wouldn't dare piss Molly off, especially after I promised her I'd come back home today with a photo booth picture of Brooks and me for her locket. "And neither of us will get ice cream after dinner."
His face drops, "None?"
"Not a single bit," I shake my head, producing a dramatic frown. "She won't let us."
His lips purse as he tries to come up with a solution, "What about a cookie?"
My eyes widen, "I ate the last one this morning."
"Daddy!" he groans, tugging my shirt in frustration.
"You did the same thing last week!" I argue.
He buries his face in my cardigan, genuinely saddened by the fact that he's out of options for desserts tonight if he doesn't take this photo. I gently stroke his back and kiss his head before encouraging him to look up at me.
"Tell you what," I bargain, "Once we take these pictures, I'll buy you a million cookies. Deal?"
His eyes light up, but then they darken with mischief, "I want a million and one."
This kid. I love him more than anything.
"Done," I accept his offer, reaching my hand out to shake his. It takes him a second to even register what I'm trying to do, but eventually he just gives me a high-five. "Now look right up there and smile four times, okay?"
"Four?" he groans, unamused. "My smile will hurt."
"Fine. Three," I offer. "On the last one we can make a silly face. How does that sound?"
"Good," he responds, leaning into my chest.
I let Brooks slide the cash into the machine before the photo booth starts working its magic. It takes several tries, but I successfully manage to make him look at the camera for two out of the four photos.
I call that a win in my book.
The first image is the most chaotic. He's looking at the screen, rather than the camera, pointing and laughing at my face. In the second one, his eyes are closed because he blinked. In the third one, they're open and we're both smiling. It's the type of photo that Molly urged me to get for her, which makes me relieved.
And lastly, in the fourth one, I'm holding him upside down and he's laughing his heart out.
That one's my favorite.
"See," I hand the photos to him. "All done."
"Now Mommy will let you have ice cream!" he chants, squeezing the pictures in his hands happily.
"Hey, you wouldn't have gotten any either," I point out, reaching down to hold his hand as we walk back over to my car through the parking lot.
"She always lets me have some. It's 'cause I'm her favorite," he gives me a grin, much like Molly's. God, it melts me. The way I can see parts of her in him is something I'll never get used to.
"Is that so?" I lift him up, opening the car door to strap him into his carseat.
"Mhm. She told me," he proudly huffs. "It's true."
Kid logic will never make sense to me. He was just upset over not getting any ice cream, but now he's confident that she would have given him dessert regardless.
It's adorable.
"And who do you think is my favorite?" I buckle him up.
He looks around, thinking, "Uh... Ta-th?"
"Taz?" I smile at his attempt to pronounce my cat's name.
"Yeah. Ta-th," he tries again. "He's your favorite."
"He's a close second. You're my favorite," I kiss his forehead. "Who knows though, after you take a million and one cookies from me, I might have to bump you down."
"No! Please! I was lying. You only have to give me a million cookies. I promise, I promise!" he reaches out, despite the restraints of his car seat, and wraps his arms around my neck. "I want to be your favorite forever and ever."
I melt into his hold, fighting the urge to kiss away the panic in his voice.
"As long as your mother can also be my favorite forever and ever," I offer. He gives me a frantic nod as I pull away, "Now let's get home and steal all of the ice cream."
I close the door on his side and head over to the driver's seat. Once I start the car, light tunes of old rock play throughout the vehicle. As I pull out of the parking spot, I watch Brooks in the mirror. He attempts to sing along to the songs, causing a smile to grow yet again on my lips.
It's times like these where I feel incredibly lucky.
And I know for a fact that my luck isn't random.
I look down at my cardigan and kiss the sleeve.
I know exactly who is behind my good fortune.
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