17 ~ He Talks to the Baby

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Harry ~ Lately, sleep was a rarity for me. It should be her not sleeping, since she was the pregnant one, but it was the opposite. She had been taking the pregnancy really well; it looked good on her. She glowed, really.

I rolled over to look at the clock on the table beside me. 2:13. I groaned and rolled back over. I didn't know what was keeping me up; mum said it might be that I was stressed, but Y/N thought it was because I was excited for the bean.

I smiled at my gorgeous wife sleeping. I ran my hand down her body under the covers, stopping at the middle of her thigh. Thoughts began popping into my head. What is our baby going to be like?

"Maybe you'll be like your mum, in every way," I whispered, moving my hand up to the peak of her round stomach. "I hope you're like her: kind, funny, beautiful, selfless... your mum is amazing- the love of my life. Maybe you'll have her smile, or her gorgeous eyes. She's hoping you have my curls."

I smiled and closed my eyes for a moment, imagining our little girl running around the house. Her little voice and her little laugh. Her footsteps making her way to our bedroom and snuggling her way in between us in the middle of the night.

"We can play together, and I can sing for you. You can have all the doll you want- or cars, if that's what you like. Mum and I don't care, you can be whatever you want in life," I smiled, and opened my eyes. Her chest moved up and down with her steady breathing. She was going to be the perfect mother, I just could tell. My eyes then traveled down to the bump under the covers. No matter how many times I see the bean on the ultrasound screen or feel her movements under her mother's skin, nothing will make them more real than when I finally get to hold our little angel for the first time or when I see her little face.

"And when you're older, your mum and I will support you always. Maybe you'll ask about my tattoos and want one of your own, but something meaningful. I just want you to know that you will have a say in your life, not just us," I said, looking to my wife's face. I could barely see her, but the light peeking through the curtains cast a shadow over her.

"Harry?" Y/N said groggily, barely above a whisper. She turned over, and opened her eyes slowly.

"Shhh, go back to sleep, love," I whispered before kissing her forehead. She nodded, and pressed her palms to my chest. I ran my fingers over her brow, something which always calmed her down.

"Two months," she whispered as he head fell to my chest. I smiled and moved my hand to her back so I could pull her as close as possible with her bump in the way.

"Not too much longer," I whispered, closing my eyes and drifting off.

Niall ~ A soft giggle escaped her lips as she watched me dig into the white colored sand underneath me. I was digging a big hole next to my towel, and two smaller ones above it. I let out a small chuckle at her expression when she realized what I was doing. With everything happening at the moment, Y/N and I both needed a break. And that was the reason why I brought her here to the beaches of Florida while on tour.

The sun was streaming warm and happy in the hot Florida weather, the beach filled with people tanning and playing volley ball a few kilometers down the way. Harry's beach house was behind us, and we were alone on the small stretch of sand. She was staring out at the dark blue ocean and the waves crashing on the shore.

"See, enough space for mummy and baby. And boobs, too," I said as I leaned back and placed the towel over the holes. Her giggling filled my ears and put a smile on my face.

"You're such a dummy," she mumbled, leaning down on the towel, putting her growing stomach into the hole. A satisfied sigh escaped her lips, finally not having to deal with the constant fear and pain of pressing her belly against the otherwise soft but harsh sand that she had been complaining about. I watched as she closed her eyes with my headphones filling her ears with some Green Day song. My eyes closed as well as the both of us were in pure heaven.

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