Forget Me Not (Zayn/Harry; Mpreg AU)

23 - Poor baby

Weeks have passed since the night of Zayn's marriage proposal and Harry thinks he's coming down with something. A few days back, Harry has fallen into a strange condition, where he is always nauseous and more often than not, he ends up on his knees infront of the toilet, spilling the contents of his stomach into it. Added to that is his constant state of lethargy, his energy low and his eyes heavy, even when he isn't doing anything strenuous. At work, he has been caught napping at every opportunity and space possible multiple times and, at first, his acquiantances laugh at him but now, it isn't even amusing anymore. Harry's co-workers are worried for him and has repeatedly brought up the need for the lad to go to the doctor's. Harry, on the other hand, has repeatedly tried assuring them that he is only sick with a common cold, perhaps a bit of influenza, but he isn't fooling anybody.

Today, in the wee hours of the morning, Harry is woken up from his fitful sleep by the strong urge to vomit. He tries to quell it by repeatedly swallowing, but it just doesn't go away. So, in the end, Harry reluctantly pulls himself away from a dozing Zayn and sprints to the bathroom. He barely manages to make it in time for his throat to convulse and he's retching into the toilet, tears of pain gathering in the corner of his eyes. He gasps for breath everytime he can, his trembling hands bearing the weight of his weakened body.

"Haz?" Zayn ventures into the bathroom, scratching his bare side and yawning loudly. He is woken up by the sounds of Harry being sick and wants to know what is happening. He panics when he sets his sight on his fiancé, who is slumped on the toilet. He kneels beside Harry and gathers his body close. "Oh my god, Harry! What happened?"

The younger lad groans in pain. "S-sorry for waking you up. Feeling, ungh, ill."

"Nonsense," Zayn tuts before taking care of his ailing lover. First things first, he props Harry against the wall and flushes the toilet. He then grabs a face towel from the cupboard, turns the faucet to cold and runs the cloth underneath the water. He wrings out the excess liquid before kneeling infront of Harry once again. Because of their limited space, Zayn is pressed close against his lad, but he does his best to not crowd him so much in fear that he'll get suffocated and grow nauseous again. Gently, he runs the wet cloth all over Harry's face and neck, making sure to clean him well. Afterwards, he rummages through their first aid kit for a hair tie to use. Triumphantly, he pulls out a green elastic and uses it to gather Harry's hair behind his head, tying it into a loose bun.

"Feeling any better?" Zayn presses a kiss to both of Harry's flushed cheeks. Harry nods slightly.

"Can you stand up, love?"

Harry attempts to stand up on his own. However, he ends up holding onto Zayn for support when he falters. "I need a bit of help. My legs are shaking."

An expression of worry crosses Zayn's face. He furrows his eyebrows and gently helps Harry to get up. He uses his bare foot to close the toilet seat and then proceeds to sit Harry on top of it. He grabs the mouthwash, pours the right amount into the bottle's cap and gives it to Harry. "Here you go, Haz."

There's comfortable silence between the couple as Harry cleanses his mouth with Listerine, only the sounds of the liquid being swished around inside Harry's mouth is heard. With Zayn's help once again, Harry spits the liquid into the sink, wincing when he sees his weary reflection on the mirror.

He turns to Zayn with a grateful smile. "Thanks, Zayn."

Zayn pecks the tip of Harry's nose. "You're welcome."

They go back to the bedroom, where Zayn changes Harry's sweaty shirt with a clean one. He tosses the soiled clothes into the hamper and dresses himself with his delivery uniform: a shirt with the company logo and a pair of jeans. He runs a hand on his head, feeling the soft buzz of his newly shaved style. When he refocuses back on Harry, he sees the lad curled up in bed, breathing deeply with his eyes closed, obviously on the verge of slumber.

Reluctantly, Zayn pats Harry's thighs to rouse him so he can say his goodbyes. "Babe, I gotta go to work now. I'll be back around 8. Want me to get you your favorite sandwich?"

Harry's eyes crack open halfway, a sleepy smile on his lips. "With avocado? And mayo?"

Zayn's eyebrows nearly reach his hairline with how high they are in surprise; Harry loathes avocadoes and mayonnaise, swears they are the creations of Satan himself. He scratches the side of his head in confusion. "Erm, are you sure about that, love?"

"Yeah, I've been craving for some tomato bacon sandwich, but add garlic mayo and avocado slices into it, okay?" Harry absolutely gushes, his little smile growing into a grin. If he isn't so drained and sickly, Zayn knows for sure that he'd be bouncing on the bed with excitement.

Zayn stares at Harry thoughtfully, trying to find a concrete reason as to why his mayo-hating, avocado-destroyer fiancé suddenly craves for some. When he comes up with nothing but a slight headache, he shrugs it off and nods. "Alright, my love. Your wish is my command."

"You're the best, Zayn," Harry sing-songs, his eyes drooping close in exhaustion. It's a good thing he's on his day off because he looks about ready to drop unconscious at any given time. He needs all the rest that he can get.

"I know," Zayn chuckles. He bends down and kisses Harry sweetly. "Go back to sleep. I'll be back before you know it. I love you."

Past 7 in the morning, Harry wakes up from his nap, leisurely stretching a bit and smothering a yawn behind his palm. He hears the pitter patter of little feet against the floor and grins when he sees Eclair struggling to get onto the bed.

"Hey, buddy." Harry swings his legs to the side, shivering when the soles of his barefeet come into contact with the cold floor of their bedroom. He picks his pup up and cuddles him close, kissing the top of his little head. Eclair yips happily, his body vibrating with happiness at being close to his dad.

After getting his fill of puppy cuddles, Harry stands up, faltering. He sways on his spot and almost drops Eclair. The dachschund barks, looking at Harry with wide puppy eyes.

"I'm alright, Eclair," Harry murmurs, reassuring himself and his dog. He closes his eyes and then breathes deeply to calm down. He has stood up too fast, too abrupt, is all. Well, at least, that's what he tells himself as an explanation to his suddenly queasy state. Still, in the back of his mind, he has a hard time convincing himself that that is the sole reason. But, it'll do for now. When he is sure that the world around him isn't spinning, Harry walks to the living room to wait for Zayn. He turns the telly on and plops down on top of the couch.

"The world is rejoicing for the very first child from a carrying male is finally born!"

While searching through the channels for a good morning show, Harry stumbles upon the news. His heart skips a few beats at the anchorwoman's words and, unconsciously, he tightens his grip on Eclair. Somehow, he knows that he should listen more to this. He licks his suddenly dry lips while his shaky free hand turns the volume up.

"A bouncing baby girl is the newest addition to Grant and Michael Fulton's little family. She is born last June 15, around 3 in the afternoon at St. Mary's Hospital. It can be remembered that last year, when the news of Michael Fulton's pregnancy was announced, people from all over the world responded positively, patiently following his progress and sending him messages of support. As a result, alot of same sex couples were encouraged to start their own families and now, we are looking into the births of their lovely children."

Shown on the screen are the photos of who Harry assumes are Michael Fulton and his husband. The pregnant lad is photographed smiling widely at every single shot as he walks around different parts of the country, showing off his precious baby bump. Unconsciously, Harry puts a hand over his own stomach, a fluttering feeling over taking his whole being as countless thoughts bombarded his mind. What if he's just like Michael Fulton? What if he can give Zayn and himself their own family?

"When asked if he'll go through the pregnancy once again, the Irish lad laughs gently and admits that despite the constant nausea, lethargy, cravings, food aversions, weak bladder and swollen limbs, he'd gladly carry their second child again because nothing compares to the joy that one is able to feel once he holds his newborn in his arms."

A few more words are said by the woman on the telly, but to Harry they are merely background noise. Nausea, lethargy, cravings - he has them all and the possibility that he can carry is not that far-fetched. Wide-eyed and trembling, there is only a single string of thought running through Harry's head:

What if he's pregnant?