little bitty rattle (and all our dreams are comin' true) | Larry Stylinson

Chapter 3

Nineteen and Twenty-One, November

"Can't wait to meet you. Less than five months now. It's already been four months, can you believe it? You're four-womb-months old."

Harry wakes up slowly, consciousness drowsily coming to him as he shakes off remnants of the dream he was just having. Even though his first trimester fatigue is long-gone, Louis has been big on urging him to take afternoon naps recently, and Harry can't say they aren't needed. The holidays are always a hectic time, and just preparing for them is enough to tire Harry out. There's something extremely gratifying, too—now even more than normal—about being wrapped up in all the sheets in his bed, surrounded by everything that smells like him and Louis. Their combined scent.

Louis's whispering so low Harry has to strain to hear.

"Daddy loves you, did you know? Yeah, that's silly, of course you know. I already love you so much. You made your Papa super sick at first, but it's okay. It's not your fault. We still love you so, so much."

Fully awake now, Harry keeps his eyes closed to just lay there and listen to Louis speak to his stomach in a hushed voice. He's not even talking to Harry's stomach but rather, the blanketed area that Harry's stomach is behind. He wonders if Louis even napped with him at all or if he spent this whole time in the middle of the bed talking to this pile of sheets near Harry's belly.

"You gonna have your Papa's long legs so you can play soccer with me one day? Or are you gonna be short like me?"

Harry wants to argue at that because Louis's not even that short, but he doesn't want to give away that he's awake yet.

"You might like to sing like your Papa, who knows. Did you know your Daddy can sing, too? 'Cause I can. Not bad at it. But your Papa has the prettiest voice. I'll sing to you one day, though, whatever you wanna hear. Your Papa can write a song, and we can sing it together for you. How's that sound? You like that? Yeah? I bet you do."

Harry remains quiet as he smiles and blinks open his eyes.

"You're gonna be great at whatever you do. Know why? 'Cause you're you. And you're perfect.

Aren't you?"

Audibly groaning with a stretch, Harry gives away that he's no longer sleeping, and Louis looks up at him and smiles. "Good nap?" Harry nods and rubs his eyes.

"Good." Louis crawls up the bed and kisses Harry, cradling his face in two sure, firm hands.

"Hungry? Thirsty? Need anything?"

After pecking Louis again on the mouth, Harry shakes his head. "Fine."

"Well, I'll pack snacks for you just in case." He looks beyond Harry to the clock on the nightstand.

"We'll have to leave in about an hour, you might get hungry by then."

For the next hour, Harry lets Louis dote on him while he lays in bed and talks on the phone with his mom. It's nice. The way Louis keeps touching him, especially his belly... holding him as he talks on the phone... Harry adores it.

When they get to the omega center, they make happy small-talk with Louis' mom before Harry lays back on the bed and lifts his shirt. Jay squirts clear gel on the swell of Harry's belly and starts smoothing it out with the ultrasound wand, and as she does so, Harry stares at his stomach.

At four months along now, Harry's stomach clearly isn't flat anymore. He's noticeably pregnant, and he's thrilled that his belly has finally decided to pop out enough that in public, he sees people's eyes dart downwards when he walks past.