butterfingers (l.s mpreg)

one, week 10

a/n: MPREG IS NORMAL IN THIS BTW!!!!

Despite the fact Harry slept pretty horribly most nights, something about Louis' bed made him immune to night terrors or even snoring.

He usually tossed and turned and hogged all of the blankets. He also usually had horrible leg spasms that kept him awake and irritated.

But not there, not in Louis' headboard-less mattress on the ground with a stained red down comforter. Not intwined with the small boy who wrapped around him and with the cute button nose of the boy digging into his long curly hair.

He noted this.

And he also noted the lack of Louis in the bed when he woke, and also the sizzling of bacon and the cracking of eggs from Louis' granite clad kitchen.

He smiled to himself, tugging on his jeans and digging around for a hoodie in Louis' wooden dresser.

Oddly enough, the green sweatshirt was not all that small, only short enough that his little tummy showed at the slightest movement of his arms.

So, naturally, when Harry yawned while walking into Louis' kitchen, Louis' eyes widened at the lovely sight of Harry's pale stomach. Harry tugs the hoodie down and blushes. Louis quickly puts away his laptop, rushing to shut it as soon as Harry walked in.

The moment is disturbed by the loud panting and barking of an unexpected guest in the room.

Harry jumped, moving closer to Louis and gasping.

"Oh god, sorry about that. He must've been out here last night. This is Mark." Louis giggles, clapping to lead the dog to him and Harry.

"You named your dog Mark?" Harry snorts, kneeling down and cooing at the overwhelmingly large bulldog that ran at Harry and began licking him.

"Of course I did," Louis leans down as well, cupping the pups face and laughing with fond eyes towards the boy before him. "Doesn't he just look like a Marky?" Louis smiles.

And they share a look, before Harry can't help but think that it's far too good to be true, a lovely blue eyed boy who cooks him breakfast and smiles at him like he lights up the world.

Far too good. He knows it.

"I should be going soon. My friends are probably worried about me." Harrys lip turn up  at the corner, a fresh blush on his defined cheekbones.

"You should stay for breakfast." Louis says, biting his lip a bit.

"Yeah. Would be nice." And that was it, Harry leaving with a stomach full of eggs and bacon and a heart full of fondness and infatuation and also Louis' hoodie.

Louis didn't mind, he loved the way it looked on the other boy.

And for a week, it was just that, a call here and there and blushing and giggles and Mark talking to Harry on the phone.

And by a month they had gone for coffee, and Louis had spoken about him in his column. Before anyone knew it Harry was the talk of Louis' writing in the paper, and Louis was getting paid for every copy sold.

Harry definitely didn't mind being a muse, and especially didn't mind when it was Louis' muse, and when Louis called him his princess and flower. Most definitely didn't.

They talked a lot at that point, and Louis would invite him over to hang out and Harry insisted it was nothing besides a friendship. Yet, he couldn't ignore the little flutters in his chest whenever Louis looked at him. When he showed up at Louis' house and he was wearing a white button down that was perfectly rolled up at the sleeves and his tight fitting black jeans and insisted he take Harry out for a proper meal.