Little Heartbeat || Larry Stylinson mpreg

XXIV

A/N- Hello yes, it hath been a century and a half. However, welcome to the second to last part. The last part is promised to be out next week! Thank you for joining me on this journey that spanned almost all of highschool for me! It's insane! I hope you all are safe during this time.

None of their friends are surprised by Louis' impromptu proposal, nobody is. They decide to wait until the baby is born to get married because Harry doesn't want to stress about the wedding when he's carrying. Stress is bad for the baby, yada-yada.

Harry finally stops going to the bakery after Barbara bans him and Louis starts spending more and more time working from home as Harry moves into the third trimester. Harry becomes more emotional and he and Louis fight more than they ever have. Louis ends up on the couch at least two nights a week but the next day, wakes up his boy with tea and toast, kissing his forehead and murmuring soft apologies into his neck. Harry melts much like the butter on the toast, reciprocating the apologies and kissing Louis softly.

Their worst fight happens the day Louis comes home from a rare day at work and finds Harry on a ladder, doing some cleaning.

"Harry Edward Styles, you get down from that ladder right now," Louis demands as response to Harry's cheerful greeting.

Harry frowns. "Why, what's wrong?" he asks putting down the rag and wiping sweat off his brow.

"Harry, you're acting crazy. You're 8 months pregnant and you're climbing into nooks of the house like a fucking monkey. You need to rest! Your ankles are so swollen you can barely walk and you're doing this stupid shit. Think about the baby, will you?" Louis reproaches, setting down his bag on one of the dining room chairs.

Harry's eyebrows rise up as he slowly makes his way down the ladder. "You watch that tone of yours, Louis Tomlinson," Harry hisses through gritted teeth. "I'm very capable of taking care of myself. I don't need you to tell me what to do."

"I'm not telli-

"And what would you understand about cleaning anyway? All you do is make messes and leave them for someone else to clean up," he snaps. "I'm starting to get sick of picking up after you like some sort of housekeeper or something. You better get your act together Tomlinson. This child needs her dad – both of them in fact – and that's not going to happen unless you stop acting like a baby first."

Stunned, Louis opens and closes his mouth a few times. "Right," he finally says, taking in a deep breath, "I'm – I'm going to go and get my act together," he parrots, crossing his arms over his chest, "and I'll let you know how that works out." His volume stayed normal but his tone betrayed the anger he felt, words a little shaky with rage. "Any mess that I've made, you can leave as is, and I'll take care of it myself, no need to be my housekeeper. I don't need a maid, just wanted a nice night in with my fiancé but that's too much to ask, I guess." He rolls his eyes. He takes off his suit jacket and hangs it up, rolling up his sleeves.

He barely notices Harry screaming expletives as he grabs and umbrella and walks out, the door slamming shut behind him. He only calms down after he's walked in the park for a bit and chatted with one of their neighbours, an old lady who was out with her poodle. Louis always felt at ease after talking to her and petting her overeager poodle. Louis rings Niall requesting to crash at his place.

"Mate, I'm still at the restaurant, and I'll be a while, but you know where the spare key is, make yourself at home." Niall responds and he's clearly in a rush to get off the line so Louis just thanks him and takes the tube to Niall's place.

It's only when Louis has taken a shower and settled on the couch with a mug of tea that he realises how bad the fight was. He's messy, he knows, but he's been trying to be better. He's actively making efforts to do the dishes and not leave his clothes lying around or his towel on the floor. He even makes sure he doesn't leave his shoes lying in the hallway. Sure he still refuses to do laundry but he duly puts the dirty clothes in the hamper and always ensures they have enough detergent and softener. He thought he was doing a pretty decent job and Harry never complained. He feels himself getting angrier by the minute and the urge to punch something has never been so strong within him. He can't allow Harry to blame everything on his hormones.