butterfingers (l.s mpreg)

eight, week 13

Every time Anne entered the apartment, it became greatly obvious that it was a home that belonged to expecting parents.

She could see a stack of baby books on the mahogany coffee table and in the kitchen a notepad with a list of names and things that Harry kept by the pickles.

The guest room had a stack of paint color sheets hidden in the nightstand beside the bed, which were strategically hidden by Louis for the nursery.

Although she believed Harry was staying permanently, Louis really did want him to. At least for a while.

He figured if Harry didn't stay then the stress of worrying about him and their baby all the time would suffocate him.

The first few days Anne spent in the apartment were slow and routine, with Louis cooking breakfast for Harry and his mother, then rushing off to work. The new thing was the cheeks kisses and goodbye hugs, "a little extra" Louis called it. As much as Harry wanted to hate it, he really couldn't.

And Louis most definitely didn't hate it either.

Harry's pale cheeks were always so soft against his lips, especially when they got red and warm whenever Louis would run his hand all over his back.

Anne was only due to stay for another three days then, and she had fallen for Louis almost as hard as Harry had.

She had taken dozens and dozens of pictures of the pair, when they lounged on the couch with Harry on top of Louis (Louis' idea, of course.) There were photos of them in the city, holding hands and smiling at each other.

Luckily they were pretty much a couple, with little touches and adoring glances. Louis couldn't help that his boy was so so so beautiful, he was sure that's why.

His. It was all fucking with him, it really was.

He couldn't shake it, the idea of being so literally and mentally attached to Harry, and the fact he didn't even mind.

They showed Anne the city within the next few days, and she was blown away. Harry says she's been all over everywhere, but she's still impressed by the same cities over and over.

Over the past week and so many days, Louis had been noticing all the qualities Anne shares with Harry.

First it was the calm voice and eyes, and it kept going from there.

He figures it'll be odd not having an excuse to kiss Harry's cheek every time he passed by.

When the time came to bring Anne to the airport, as Harry hugged her over and over, she gushed about how excited she was for the couple, and the fact that they were so happy.

That was the only thing that pulled a little guilt out of Louis, the fact that they lied to her for an entire week. Harry assured it was fine, as they climbed back into the car and drove home. They listened to Kings of Leon, the one band that the pair could agree on. Harry tapped on the armrest to Manhattan, smiling as Louis sang along and used his free hand to mimic the drum beat.

He giggled, which turned Louis' head immediately, causing Harry to blush and cover his mouth with his hand.

Louis got a quick glance at his parted pink lips, just before his clunky silver ring was quick to cover it up.

Both went quiet, sitting in the parking garage as the song continued to another. Louis couldn't help but stare, and he could stare until he went blind.

He was sure it would not be a regret if that was the last thing he ever saw, as he watched Harry sing and giggle and smile all over and over again. His cheeks were flushed and his forest green eyes were glossy and light, despite the dark parking garage. He was so beautiful, and even as a writer he could not come up with any other way to describe him.