Eight | W2S

SIXTY NINE.

hehe

TWO WEEKS LATER

"We need to talk," Harry said ominously, cuddled up with me on my sofa, two weeks before the long awaited gender reveal scan.

His question sounded scary, but I wasn't worried. "About?"

"Well, y'know I love coming round here and staying with you...most of the time. But — when the baby comes, I just — I've been thinking —"

"About our living situation?" I guess, finishing his sentence. He was not the only person that had been thinking about this. It had also been on my mind, I had just been waiting to discuss it with him.

He nodded. "I mean, we're pretty much living together already, but I just kinda envisioned that once we had a child, we'd —"

"Have a house together?" I preempt, once again finishing his sentence.

He nodded his head again, a small smile playing on his lips. "I know — I know it's a big step, moving in properly, and buying a house —"

"Harry," I say softly, resisting the urge to laugh at his nervousness, fearing it would come across as judgemental instead of endearing. "I think having a baby was a big step."

He scratched his head awkwardly. "Yeah, I s'pose you're right. Well — it was just a thought."

"No, no. I've been thinking the same thing. It's like with Faith and Ethan...they got a house before Olive arrived, and look how it's worked out for them. I think I'd like that, and I guess it would be better to look sooner rather than later," I acknowledge, running my hands through his hair.

"Okay good, I was kinda hoping you'd say that because I've already organised to meet with an estate agent —"

I raised my eyebrow. "You did, did you?"

He grinned sheepishly. "Well I knew you'd agree with me, I just needed the balls to actually mention it."

"I'm glad you're so confident in the ability to perceive me. But yeah, that sounds good. Obviously it'll have to be around London, for work," I add in, already trying to work out the logistics in my head.

"I've sent some requirements to the agent already. I've asked for no longer than an hour drive from central, at least three bedrooms, and a big garden," he explains to me.

"Three?"

"One for us. One for the baby. One as a spare, for your dad, or my family, or whoever to stay in when they visit," he explains, and the nature of his thoughtfulness is overwhelming, and I find myself tearing up.

"Don't look at me. It's the hormones," I whisper, wiping at my eyes and looking away.

"Nah, you're just a big romantic softie," he teases, keeping it light between us, which is always the best solution in this case.

I glare at him, but it's half assed.

"Having a house with you sounds nice," I say, after several moments of silence.

From his position, he cranes his head up to look at me, and his face is full of happiness at my words. "Just nice?"

"Well I don't want you to call me a romantic softie again," I lie, and he sees right through me but decides against saying anything.