butterfingers (l.s mpreg)

fifteen, week 17

Harry's eyes were glowing that night, and looked especially doe-like to Louis, who was laying on the bed and staring up at the pregnant boy with content.

The clock read 9:00, and Harry yawned, shirtless as he rested with his legs crossed at the foot of the bed, smiling to himself as Louis stared fondly.

"You're so beautiful." Louis whispered once he sat up in order to get to Harry's place. He kissed his shoulder and placed a hand on Harry's tummy, smiling sweetly. He felt the heat from Harry's flush on his back where he pressed a soft kiss.

"That's very sweet, Lou." Harry gushed.

"You know," The fond boy recalled, "I never did get that dinner with you, H." Harry blushed again, smiling without his teeth and laying back down on the bed, nodding his head to Louis.

"Would you like to go on a date with me, Harry Styles?" It felt quick, considering it had only been an hour since they first began kissing in the archway. But rather than hesitating, or even thinking at all, frankly (quite unlike Harry, he was sure) Harry smiled again and squeaked a "yes."

So, the pair quickly redressed and Louis was dressed casually, in a pair of his khaki shorts and a short sleeved blue button up.

Harry was in dark jeans and a comfy sweatshirt. The August air had dropped to the high seventies, and Harry's pregnancy was prone to making Harry's body temperature drop a few degrees.

Louis took a quick look at the boy up and down, smiling happily as he pressed a kiss to his cheek.

"You look lovely." He chuckled, and Harry's brows furrowed. He looked down momentarily at his Nike hoodie and black jeans.

"Thank you, T." Harry giggled, reaching down compulsively to place a hand on his growing belly.

"Course, darling." Harry shivered at the new pet name (not really new, but he hadn't ever been this crazy for Louis, for anyone.)

And so they held hands throughout their dinner, Louis reaching over the table to plant a kiss on Harry's cheek every once in a while. Harry's face remained warm throughout the meal.

Quite frankly, this is the first time Harry has felt warm in a long time, when Louis holds him. Even his hands being held by the blue eyed boy lights a flame in his chest that radiates heat throughout his body, the craziest thing he's ever felt.

This didn't go unnoticed, of course, for Louis was watching him fondly (like he always does.)

And they shared a piece of chocolate cake and spoke of baby names, watching each other's hands and rubbing ankles beneath the wooden table.

"It's a girl, you goon." Louis said, mouthful of whipped cream and eyes full of endearment.

"I'm not too sure, Lou. I feel like I should be, though. Isn't it supposed to be like, I don't know, a Mum's instinct? Is that how it works?" Harry grew embarrassed, realizing he had referred to himself as "mum." Although Louis smirked, biting his lip at the sight of Harry's flushed cheeks and ears.

"I do believe that's how it is, but I wouldn't worry." Louis rubbed his arm.

Harry sighed, his plump pink lips in a small pout.

They collected themselves, awaiting the arrival of the waitress with the check (Louis especially, being sure to grab the receipt first.)

The blue eyed waitress waved them goodbye sweetly, leading the pair out as they locked hands.

"Thank you for dinner, Lou." They remained quiet, only the soft hum of the traffic and M83 playing from the speakers in Louis' Audi.