No Visuals.
* 4 WEEKS LATER, FEBRUARY 12TH *
Harry awoke from his deep sleep, your side of the bed cold yet still messed up from where your body had shuffled around upon the sheet. A stream of light made it’s way into the bedroom from the en-suite bathroom, the sound of running water and the toilet flushing making it’s way into the quiet bedroom where Harry was now laying wide awake. His mind wandering elsewhere to take his mind away from the sounds of retching and vomiting coming from the room just adjacent to the master bedroom. It was unusual for you to be sick at anytime of the year since you’d been the one to take care of the way you lived - you were forever making sure that you weren’t around anyone ill for long, with sincere apologies being given when they knew the reason to your want to leave, and you were forever making sure that you bundled up warm in the wintery months to save yourself from getting a cold or the flue, or even pneumonia at the extreme.
Harry had admired you for that. For taking care of yourself to make sure you were able to keep going on with life and doing the things you loved doing without a care in the world of being unable to do so with an iffy head or a dodgy tummy. So when you became ill, it was rare for Harry and he was somehow never use to the idea of looking after you at your time of weakness.
As he kicked the duvet away from his body, the sound of the toilet flushed again however this time the water and the bathroom light were switched off and your silhouette appeared in the darkened doorway separating the master bedroom from the en-suite bathroom. Harry listened to you as you coughed slightly into your hand, and reached for something upon the bedside table, your darkened figure shuffling around the room. He laid there still, his eyes trained to you as you tried to be as quiet as possible - with hopes you didn’t wake your sleeping husband from a sleep that was so well needed.
“Baby, are you feeling okay?” Harry’s voice came out, hoarse and deep and scratchy against his dry throat. “You’ve been sick for a week straight. I think I’ll take you to the doctors later on today, okay? To get you looked at. I’m worried,” he added, reaching an arm across to switch the lamp upon his beside table on, the light filtering around the room.
You were sat upon the edge of the bed, a flannel held to your forehead in one hand and another picking at the fraying material of your pyjama shorts. Soft sobs leaving your lips as you turned towards Harry who was sitting up on the bed, leaning back against the headboard. His hair falling from the bun tied at the back of his head, hanging gently down his face and tickling at his chin ever so softly. Your eyes were red and bloodshot and your cheeks were flushing pink, your bottom lip trembling as you gained eye contact with him; his green eyes filled with concern and worry.
“I don’t want to go to the doctors today, Harry. Can we just leave it for another day or two? I’m fine honestly. It’s food poisoning,” you reasoned quietly, with fear of your voice catching if you spoke any louder. “I just want to sleep today and stay hydrated. I’m fed up with this and I’m going to sleep it of,” you mumbled, sending him a soft smile as you dabbed the wet flannel to your forehead.
“I’m worried about you, alright? You’re making me nervous. You’ve never been sick like this before,” he stated, shuffling across the bed and standing in front of you, falling to his knees and letting them rest against the soft and plus carpet. “I’ll give it a day. If you get worse or start to feel pain, I’m taking you to the GP, okay? Whether you like it or not.”
He took your free hand in his and rubbed his thumb across your knuckles, his skin felt warm against your cold ones and it contradicted to the heat radiating from your bodies.
“Fine. Just, can we go back to bed now? I’m tired,” you whispered, looking down to where he was staring intently up at you. “A cuddle with my husband sounds divine right now,” you giggled lightly, watching as the tips of Harry’s lips lifted into a warm smile. A nod was given your way as he stood himself back up, helping you back under the covers and tucking your up tightly before he made his way back around the bed.
“If you feel sick again, wake me up, okay? I won’t be angry,” he whispered as he grunted lightly when falling to the bed, his head hitting the pillow and his eyelids feeling instantly heavy and almost magnetic to one another. “I love you. I’m only wanting you better,” he added in a hushed voice, pressing a kiss to your forehead before he reached to turn the lamp off. Letting the bedroom consume the darkness it had had before.
“Harry, I’m scared.”
Your voice came out timid and small and it put a sense of fear upon Harry’s chest as he squeezed you to his body and kept his lips lingering at your hairline. One of your legs hitched over his stomach with an arm sprawled across his waist, your fore finger drawing shapes absentmindedly into the skin about where the waistband of his boxers sat on his hips.
“Scared of what, baby? There’s nothing to be scared of, okay?” He whispered, puffing out a soft breath.
“What if I’m really ill? That’s why I don’t want to go to the doctors. What if they tell me I’m ill and I need treatment and I don’t have long left and, I’m just really scared, H,” you mumbled, your warm breath fanning out across his chest where your head was positioned beside his left swallow tattoo on his collar bone. “I don’t want to leave you, and I don’t want to be ill,” you added, a small sob leaving your throat as Harry felt a tear wet his skin.
“Hey, hey. Don’t cry, baby. It’s okay. It will all be okay, I promise. You’ve probably just got the stomach bug, or maybe your period is starting soon. I don’t know. But you’ll be fine, okay? You’re not seriously ill,” he murmured against your hair, his hand finding it’s way beneath the jumper adorning your upper body. “I won’t let anything harm you, I promise.”
“What if I’m sick, though? You’d leave me because I’d be a burden upon you. You wouldn’t want a sick woman by your side,” you muttered, looking up at his face illuminated by the light that had started to appear in the London sky outside of the curtain-covered windows. His jaw was chiseled perfectly and you could just about make out the slight freckles upon his cheeks.
“I wouldn’t leave you. I vowed to stick by you, remember? In sickness and in health. Does that ring any bells?” He asked, a slight hint of a smile in his voice. You nodded gently against his chest as you wiped at your eyes softly and sighed out, closing your eyes. “I love you. Sick or not, I love you. You’re my wife. My better half. My best friend. And my soulmate. I’m not leaving you now and I’m not eve considering leaving you at all, unless you asked me to leave,” he stated matter-of-factly, a smirk in his voice that had earned him a light slap to the chest.
“Can we give it a day before we go to the doctors? I just want to have a relaxing day in bed,” you whispered against his skin, muffling slightly.
“We can do that, baby. We can do that.”
* *
“Harry.”
A nudge to his shoulder.
“Harry, get off.”
A kick to the thigh.
“Harry, please. I don’t feel so good again. Let me go,” you mumbled, prying his tight hold from your waist and letting his hand fall to the bed with a thud against the springs. As you kicked the duvet from your body, his eyes slowly cracked open only to find you rushing into the bathroom in a hastily manner. The bedroom now lit with light from the mid-morning sun stream facing the house. “Fuck,” he heard you mumble lightly, the sound of retching following soon after through the slightly ajar door, his stomach dropping at the sounds.
He stood from the bed, his feet touching the carpet as he picked up an old and slightly worn out white t-shirt that had fallen in a heap the previous night. He shuffled across the floor of the bedroom, standing outside of the en-suite bathroom door where the sounds of your sickness were loud enough to send Harry’s tummy into a fluttering and grumbling mess. His hand slowly pushed the door open, a sight he hated to see coming into view.
“It’s alright, babe. I’m here. It’s okay,” he stated as he stepped into the bathroom, kneeling behind you as you hunched over the toilet bowl. “You’re okay. It’s alright. I’m here,” he repeated, his palm pressed to your back as he rubbed around in soft and soothing circular motions. “Get it all up. That’s it, baby.”
“I hate this. I just want to crawl in a hole and sleep until this passes,” you mumbled as you placed your head upon the arm you had resting upon the seat. Your face had lost colour and your nose was slightly running, your lips were wet and moist and your body was tensing and shaking slightly under his touch. “Can you get me some sickness pills? They’re in the top cabinet,” you asked, looking towards Harry out of the corner of your eye.
The heat and touch from him was lost as he stood to his feet and shuffled across the small space, approaching the mirror cabinet that had shelves of medicines and bath lotions behind it. As he scanned the top shelf of medicines, he came across the sickness pills that his mother had recommended when she had fallen ill one weekend - resulting in the two of you travelling down to Cheshire to help look after her whilst Robin was away on a business trip.
“Here you go. Let me just pour you some water,” he smiled, placing two of the sickess pills into your palm and grabbing an old plastic cup that had your toothbrushes held within it, filling it with water and immediately handing it to you. “Take ‘em. You’ll feel a little better once they take full effect,” he smiled, watching as one of your shaky hands popped the two pills into your mouth and your other held the plastic cup to your lips.
As you swallowed the two pills, you handed him the now half-filled cup and watched as he set it upon the counter, his eyes cautiously watching your every move as you stood from your place beside the toilet, flushing the chain before walking slowly yet shakily back into the bedroom; with Harry hot upon your heels.
“Do you want some dry toast? Or some dry crackers? Mum said they help a lot. I can go get some from the shop,” he offered, closing the bathroom door once he’d stepped back into the bedroom. He took in your position on the bed; crossed legs and your back resting against the headboard, the pillows bunching up and moulding the shape between your back and the board. “Or I can make you some fruit. And get some lemonade. That helped me a lot when I wa-”
“Harry, just leave me alone, yeah? I just need some peace,” you mumbled, a little louder than necessary, your hand covering your forehead as your eyes remained closed. “A little space would do me some good as well,” you added more sternly, as Harry’s face fell and he puckered his lips together softly.
“Okay. I’ll be downstairs if you need me,” he whispered, grabbing his phone from the bedside table and grabbing his old pair of black sweatpants, tugging them up his legs. “Would you like me t-”
“I’ll fine, Harry. I’m just going to sleep it off and hopefully wake up better than I feel now,” you mumbled, rubbing your eyes tiredly as you comfortably shuffled yourself down on the bed, the duvet pulled up to your chin.
“Alright. I’ll be downstairs. Just give me a shout if you need me,” he smiled, and with that he preceeded out of the door. His footsteps slowly becoming inaudible as he made his way down the stairs, to the lower level of the house.
* *
In times of trouble, Harry had always gone to his mother for help. No matter what the problem had been, Anne was the parent he had gone to talk too when he needed to get something off of his chest. Whether it was back in his school ages and he was having problems with girls and asking girls out on dates, or whether it was in his singing career where he would call up his mother on a day where he felt particularly bad and was in dire need of comforting words - those of which that could only come from his mother. He felt his mother was a safe haven for him; with you being a close second now that you had agreed and vowed to stick by his side for the rest of his life.
And he was forever grateful that his mother would listen.
He was sure Anne thrived off of his emotional outbursts at times because it was times where he was vulnerable and in need of attention. Yes, he was one to show affection and he was one to hug and snuggle with someone until he felt better, however he was extra affectionate and stayed longer in the comforting arms of his mother at his times of vulnerability. She claimed his a mummy’s boy and, usually he would feel uncomfortable and embarrassed whenever she spoke about it in public, he wasn’t one to back away - no matter how embarrassed she made him. With red cheeks, bitten lips and a slightly ashen face, he was still there in his mothers presence.
And it was in times like this where he was thankful his mother was just a phone call away, to let him vent out his emotions and to let him talk about how he was feeling when it came to you and him disagreeing on terms that he knew would benefit you in the long run - however you were too beside yourself and too deep in your thoughts of being a burden to want the loving and caring attention of someone else.
And as he held the phone close to his ear, the dialling tone ringing out, he breathed out a sigh of despair and need.
“Harry, sweetheart, hello. How are you? This is an unusual time to call me,” Anne’s sweet voice came from the speaker, a hint of a smile lacing her voice as Harry let out a soft chuckle. “Is everything okay? I’m sensing a bit of uneasiness.”
“When you’re sick, how does Robin look after you?” He wondered, his eyes focusing upon the speckle dirt at the base of the back door to keep his mind from wandering else where. “Like, does he give you space? Does he buy you things to soothe your stomach? Does he just stay by your side?” He questioned, his free hand running through his greasy and matted hair that he had now released from the bun at the back of his head. The strands hanging down his bare shoulders as the cool air hit at his warm skin.
“What’s the matter? Is (Y/N) sick?” Anne cooed softly, the sound of a whistling kettle being heard in the background followed by a couple of clinks from a spoon hitting the porcelain. “If it makes you worry less, Robin’s been a bit sick as well. We’re thinking it’s the Chinese we had for your birthday meal a few days ago. I know your wife and him had the same meal,” Anne reprimanded, as a wash of relief coursed through Harry’s body with a breath of relief leaving his mouth - a breath he had no idea he had been holding in. “It’s nothing to worry about, okay? He’d been feeling dodgy for a day or two after that.”
However, something didn’t settle right in Harry’s tummy. He didn’t think this was food poisoning - much like you and his mother had thought.
“I just, she told me to leave her alone and I don’t want to leave her to be sick on her own, mum. She’s never been this sick before and it’s worrying me,” he whispered, moving his free hand from his hair to the tabletop of the kitchen table. “Whenever she’s sick, she’s not as grouchy as this and she’s always up for a cuddle even though she wants to be left alone. She always gives in and snuggles with me while we watch some TV. But,” he let out a soft yawn, “she looked so irritated by my presence and I’m not sure what to do.”
A soft sigh left Anne’s lips through the receiver and she could hear mumbling noises in the background, to which he could only guess Robin had woken and wondered why his wife was standing in the kitchen at ten to nine in the morning. He could picture his mother now - a dressing gown tied around his waist, her pyjamas on her body to keep her warm as the back door was opened to let the fresh air into the kitchen, her slippers on her feet and a sizzling breakfast cooking upon the stove. And he missed her. Even with you by his side, he was still in the mode of missing his mother and knowing she was miles away from him - with him unable to up and leave whenever he pleased.
“Sweetheart, sometimes people like to be left alone when they’re sick. You used to be such a grouchy teenager when you were ill. Always groaning and moaning and yelling when we tried to soothe you,” Anne laughed lightly,”but I promise you, she’ll be okay. If she gets worse, you should suggest taking her to the doctor. Or your own private GP. Harry, that will help her a lot.”
His GP was an elderly lady, named June, with a full education and experience of sicknesses and illnesses just like your own - heck, he’d been in plenty of times to get prescribed pills and medicines to make his immune system active and ready to participate in his daily activities again. He always felt at ease when talking with her and he was always sure to slip in a cheeky update upon how you were, with June being the curious one and wondering how his better half was doing.
“I guess. I just, I’m worried about her. I probably shouldn’t be, but I can’t help it, ya’know? She’s rarely sick so it’s something that happens on every few months,” he reasoned, “I was thinking some tea would help her. And maybe some dry toast or crackers. But, I’m too nervous to go up and see if she’s okay because I have no idea how she’d react,” he murmured, rubbing his face with his palm and knuckling at the sleep in his eyes.
“Sweetheart, stop. Make her some toast and give her some lemonade. And give her plenty of snuggles and make sure she’s warm and content,” Anne stated, her voice stern and warning as Harry nodded to himself. “But, I know you’ll look after her. You were raised well, Harry Edward.”
* *
(Gemma. The Missus.)
Are we still on for coffee later on? :) x
I doubt it, Gem. I’m still sick and I’m not sure how much longer I can last. I think I upset your brother earlier - I didn’t mean too. x
What did you do? Did you straighten his hair? Use his toothbrush? Oh, did you remove his socks from his feet when he was sleeping? Did you steal the covers? ;) x
None of those. I think he took the brunt of my mood swings. I woke up sick earlier this morning and then fell back to sleep, then I woke up again about half an hour to 40 minutes ago and was sick again and I felt tired and he was there. I may have told him to leave me alone … x
(Y/N), for goodness sake, the boy was trying to help you. He’s forever worrying about you. You should hear him on the phone to mum sometimes. God. ;) x
I mean it. I didn’t mean to get irritated with him but he was the only person here to get the brunt of everything. I feel terrible. x
How are you still sick anyway? It’s been almost a week. Sicknesses don’t last this long, do they? :/ x
We think it’s food poisoning but I’m worrying myself thinking it’s something worse; ya’know, like a life-threatening illness or stomach issues or a disease. I’m scared about going to the doctors but Harry said we could wait one more day, just to see if anything eases. x
I’m not trying to worry you anymore … But, maybe you should go to the doctors today? In case anything worsens? We don’t want anything to happen to you, and I can’t see my brother getting stressed anymore than he already is - just do it for him. Yeah? Calm him down. x
I guess. I just, I’m scared of bad results. What if I get told I have some kind of threatening illness? x
That’s preposterous. (see that, I used a big word.) If you’ve just been constantly sick over the week, maybe it’s just the flu and they can prescribe you with some pills to get you back on track. And with Harry’s comforting self, it will be in no time for sure. x
I haven’t just been sick, Gem. It’s the constant need to getting up and peeing about 7 times throughout the day, I feel suddenly sick as specific smells and my chest is beginning to get really sore. x
This might be a long shot, but … Maybe you’re pregnant? Have you even thought about the symptoms you’re having? x
…
..
.
(Y/N)? Are you okay?
I’ve missed a period. Gemma. I’ve missed my period. How have I just realised? Oh my god.
Maybe it’s just because you’re sick! I miss mine most of the time when I’m sick - it’s common. Don’t worry. I didn’t mean to worry you even more. x
I need to go. I’ll talk to you later.
* *
The rumbling of the car soon came to a stop as you looked to the small building in front of you, women and men entering and leaving momentarily as you remained in the car, the seatbelt still secure around your waist as you gulped softy. Harry’s presence beside you was enough to make you feel a little more comfortable but with Gemma’s worrying accusation and your fluttering stomach, it was beginning to feel too pressurable and it was as if at any given moment you would lose consciousness from fright.
“You’ve met June before, baby. She’s lovely. She’s cleared her afternoon when I called her up so we could pop in at any time during then, so, we can take as long as you need,” he smiled, his hand reaching over the console to grab your hand in his own. The rings on his fingers cool and cold against your warm skin. “I won’t force you to do anything you don’t want to do, okay? If you want to turn around, we can turn around and go home. Or we can go for a burger at McDonalds-“
“Please, don’t mention food, Harry. Or you’ll be cleaning your front footwell,” you muttered, lacing your fingers through his own as you looked down at his nails. “Let’s just go in, yeah? Get this over with and free my worrying brain,” you smiled weakly, trying to lighten the mood of the slightly awkward silenced car. A puff of breath leaving your husbands mouth as he pulled the keys from the ignition and hooked the keyring around his finger.
“Let’s go inside, baby.”
* *
It felt like hours until June had called you into her office. Both you and Harry sitting in the rather uncomfortable blue chairs outside as you waited patiently for her to call you in once she had everything sterile and ready to examine you. Your knee was constantly bouncing up and down as Harry tried to calm you with a palm pressed to your back and his thumb drawing soft circles into your muscle. When her voice sounded around the intercom of the waiting room, your head instantaneously whipped up to where Harry was already looking down at you, and with a reassuring nod, you stood from your chair with Harry following in suit.
“It’s okay, baby. I’ll be right by your side the whole time, I promise,” he comforted, his hand coming into contact with the metal door handle upon the door - a door with a plaque saying ‘Dr. June Everly’ in bold black letters that were prominent against the silver backing. “She’s just going to look over you and possibly prescribe some tablets to make you better - you’ll be fine,” he smiled, giving your hand one hearty squeeze before pushing the door open with his shoulder.
“Hello, you two. It’s lovely to see you again. How have we been?” June’s voice came from her space at her computer in the corner - a computer used for writing confidential patient notes for further appointments - her glasses falling down her nose as she reached for a pair of plastic, cream gloves to prevent any infections from spreading. “I hear we’ve had a poorly missus. Is that so?” She asked, standing from her space and walking across the floor as Harry closed the door behind the two of you.
“We have one poorly missus here, we do,” he confirmed, turning on his heel to find you standing awkwardly beside the bed of the room. “She’s not a fan of doctors. I felt that if I brought her to you, then it would make her feel at ease because you look at me most of the time,” Harry reasoned, pressing his hand to the small of your back again to soothe you into the atmosphere. His lips were pressed your head in a matter of seconds and you tilted your head into his touch, your eyes closing softly.
“What’s the matter with (Y/N), then? Come and sit down at the desk, sweetheart. I won’t be doing anything with you today, okay? You’re alright. No needles, no prods or pokes and no blood being taken. Better than Harry, I can tell you,” June laughed, squeezing your arm softly in her hand as she guided you to the corner desk where her computer had been set up. You felt a wash of relief and worry pass through you as she confirmed the happenings of the appointment - because if there was one thing you were scared of, it was impromptu jabs or blood takings. “I’m telling you, your husband is here on a regular basis to give blood or to make sure he’s up to health. He’s a good man,” she added, watching as you took a seat in a wooden chair that was placed beside the end of her desk. “Now, what’s the problem? What can I do for you?”
“I’ve just been really sick for the past week and anything slightly amorous in smell sets me off more than usual. I mean, like, it’s been really bad over this week with sickness waking me up in the mornings and feeling uncomfortable in bed throughout the nights,” you said, your eyes looking out the window of the GP office to where the wind was blowing softly in the trees, catching under the leaves still attached to the branches. “It’s been going on for a few weeks but not as bad as this week.”
“And how were the other few weeks before this?”
“I felt nauseous most of the time. It was nothing bad enough to make me need go to bathroom to handle it, and I was able to take a few sickness pills and it disappeared after an hour or so. I figured it was just my period starting but, I’ve not had it yet,” you stated, catching June’s glance at Harry as he looked at you in adoration. “I figured I’m just slightly irregular this month because I’ve been ill and that, so, I haven’t worried too much about it.”
That was a teeny lie. Ever since Gemma’s text that morning, the thought of a missed period and a pregnancy upon you had been worrying your mind ever since - and deep down you were nervous for the answer. Yes, you and Harry had spoken about having children and it was the butt end of your pillow talk after soft nights of kisses and cuddles under the light of the street lamp filtering in from the street outside of the house. However, there was always doubt in your mind that you weren’t ready for that just yet, and as much as you wanted to make Harry happy with the desire he’d been longing for since his first time seeing babies, you felt that your own feelings and desires needed to be put first in this instance.
“This is a question I have to ask,” June added, looking up from her notepad as she placed her pen down upon the paper, “I presume you’re both sexually active, am I right?”
A blush formed upon your cheeks as you looked towards Harry who was smirking softly with his own red cheeks.
“I’m going to take the blushing cheeks and smirking as a yes, and I’m going to just put my own thoughts across first,” she started, folding her arms across her chest as she looked between the two of you, “I’m suggesting we take you into the next room and take a urine sample from you, (Y/N), because I’m pretty sure your symptoms are coming across as clear cut and obvious,” June smiled, reaching forward and pressing a hand to your knee.
“What does that mean?” Harry asked, curiosity lacing his voice.
“It means that I have a slight inkling that the two of you might be having a baby in the next eight to nine months.”
“I’m pregnant?” You asked, more to yourself than to anybody else in the small office, a nod being the only confirmation from June as she let the news sink into your mind. “With a baby? I’m pregnant? We’re going to be parents? Are you- Is this really happening?” You whispered, your voice cracking in the silence of the room.
“It’s my own opinion, (Y/N). But from your symptoms of nausea, sickness in the mornings and feeling uncomfortable, I’d like to think that’s the reason to you feeling so under the weather and slightly ill,” she smiled, standing up from her desk as she shuffled around Harry’s chair with a squeeze to his shoulder. “Look at his eyes. You might be having a baby, Harry.”
You might be having a baby.
A baby.
A mini you. A mini Harry.
A creation of the two of you after a night filled with passion and love.
A baby.
As June appeared beside you, a plastic cup was handed to you as well a topper for you to push on top as soon as you were finished.
“If you pop to the loo next door,” she pointed to her right, “then you can have all the time you need in there to pass urine for us to send to the lab. These results will be back within the next 2 to 3 days and we’ll call you up with the results,” June smiled, releasing her fingers from the cup as you took it within your grasp.
“I’ll pop to the corner shop, get you some water, and I’ll be back in a second, okay? I’ll come sit with you, make sure you’re okay,” Harry smiled, digging around in his pocket for his wallet. “I love you. I’ll be back soon. Go wait for me,” he added, standing from his seat and hunching over you to press his lips to your hairline.
* *
“Can you believe it…” Harry mumbled from his space beside you on the sofa, your feet kicked up into his lap and resting upon a cushion that would usually be placed behind his back. “In the next 2 to 3 days, we could be parents. Our baby could be inside you right now, splitting cells and turning into a mini you or a mini me. That’s crazy. We’re having a baby,” Harry grinned, turning his head from the TV where an old episode of Friends was playing to your face, his eyes twinkling under the light of the room.
“I’m stuck with two of you now. This could be a fun filled life for me, I’m telling you,” you giggled, shuddering slightly as you felt his hand creep up your thigh and settle underneath the jumper that was adorning your upper body. His fingertips danced across the space below your belly button before his palm came into full contact with your skin, his wrist pushing up the material slightly and letting your body commence into the cold air of the room.
“Hi, baby. It’s your daddy. I’m your daddy. That’s a bit crazy to say. I can’t believe we’re finally having you. We love you so much and we can’t wait to meet you and I hope you turn out just like mummy because I could really use another one of her around,” he winked up at you before turning his attention to your belly. “I love you, so much. Don’t forget that okay? You’re going to be so spoilt in this family, I’m telling you.”
“Harry, we don’t know if they’re real yet. Stop jumping ahead,” you murmured, earning a hush and finger to your lips as he stared into your eyes.
“They can hear you,” he teased.
* *
* TWO DAYS LATER *
“It’s now or never. Are you ready for your results?” June smiled, an envelope in her hands as you looked to Harry and squeezed his hands tightly. “I have real hope for you guys, I really do. And I’ll happily take on being your local doctor and helping you through when you need it. I may not be a midwife, but I can work along side them,” she added, handing you the envelope and watching as your shaky hand took hold of the paper.
“Are you ready?” You asked, looking up at Harry who was staring down at the paper that had ‘Mr and Mrs Styles’ written in scrawny writing along the top. “I feel so nervous,” you whispered.
“I’m ready to find out. We might be parents, babe. A mummy and a daddy to a little baby Styles,” he cooed, his own nerves building up with his body. “Open it. Let’s find out our future.”
And with that, the sounds of ripping paper could be heard around the silenced room, the three of you inside anxious about the results that were held tightly in your hands. As you pulled the folded paper from inside the envelope out, you couldn’t help but squeak out in nervousness, as your fingers nimbly unfolded the white sheet. Black text was scattered around the page followed by symptoms and a graph of the urine sample you had sent in, confusing you even more as you read.
Until you heard Harry gasp in shock. His voice catching.
“We’re pregnant. We’re having a baby. We have a baby on the way - how is that, how? Oh my god. We’re parents,” he whispered tearily, his arms snaking around your waist as he pulled you to his body. “I love you so much, I really do. You’re everything to me,” he cried, his head dropping to your shoulder as you felt tears seep into your cotton material.
“I love you too, Harry. Or should I say daddy,” you giggled, resting your head against his. “We’re pregnant, Harry. We’re really having a baby.“

Notes