one mistake from being together | l.s mpreg au

baby no. 3 [part 1]

"i don't want to tell them, though." louis whines, struggling to fit into a vans shirt (that fit like, two weeks ago, what the fuck).

"why?" harry asks, watching him struggle.

"because, tate's going to be pissed, and you know it." louis sighs, giving up with the shirt, throwing it down and reaching for a plain black shirt on its hanger. "mason'll be alright, i think, but tate's going to flip."

"he won't."

louis rolls his eyes. "yeah, okay."

"why is he going to flip?"

louis looks at harry with wide eyes. "h, do you not remember the whole grace thing?" louis pulls down the jeans he just put on (they're suffocating), and changes into a pair of grey sweats with pizza stains all over. "they brought her to their birthday party, and everyone flocked to her."

harry sighs. "thats not true."

"h," louis sighs, running a hand through his hair, "it is true." he sighs and grabs his phone off the bed. "its fine, harry, but you know thats how its gonna be with the new baby too. and you know we're going to have to move."

harry bites his lip, as he follows him out into the living room and into the twins' room.

louis leans over mason's crib, scooping the toddler out, and laying him against his chest. "good morning, sweetheart."

he sighs and pushes his nose further into louis' shoulder.

harry picks up tate and holds him the same way. he sighs and rests his chin on harry's shoulder.

they take them out the the living room, where louis lays back on the couch, rearranging mason. harry sits on the recliner with tate and turns the telly on, turning it down and putting on doc mcstuffins for the babies.

mason wakes up first, half an hour later, sitting up and looking at louis. louis pinches his cheeks and leans forward and kisses the side of his mouth and his nose and his forehead. "good morning again, sunshine."

mason giggles. "morning, daddy."

"are you hungry, babe?"

mason nods. "hungry, daddy."

"alright." louis says. he sits up with him, and then sets the boy gingerly on his feet. "what shall we have?"

"cereal." mason says.

"what kind?" he asks, following him to the kitchen.

"cheers."

"cheerios?"

"cheer-ee-oh's."

louis laughs, and nods. "okay, bub." he grabs the box of honey nut cheerios from the top of the fridge and the milk jug, and makes the baby a bowl of cereal.

"thank, daddy." mason says.

"sure, baby." louis says, putting him in his highchair, and then putting the bowl on the table of it. he hands mason the little baby spoon. "can you handle it?"

mason nods. "yes, daddy."

"okay." louis says. "go for it then, love."

mason takes big bites of cereal, getting little pieces stuck to his cheek and milk all over the highchair and his bib and even a cheerio in his hair.

harry's bringing tate out ten minutes later, holding the barely awake toddler. he hands him over to daddy who gives him a kiss as he puts him in his highchair. harry fixes him a bowl of cereal (lucky charms; tate refuses to eat any other kind now that he's been introduced to them), and gives them to him.