* 2 WEEKS LATER *
“You know; I’ve been thinking that we should start looking up things for the nursery sometime soon. Like we should probably pop to a shop or have a look online for some wardrobes and a cot, maybe a bassinet. We need to start planning on what colour we should paint the room as well, and what room we are thinking of having the nursery s-“
Your soft rambling was cut short as Harry perked up, his eyes switching from the phone in his hand and to where you were standing at the end of the bed. Your hair pulled back into a ponytail, your teeth freshly brushed and your face washed and moisturised.
“Hey, hey. Calm down. You’re not helping your stress levels. You need to relax,” Harry smiled.
“I know, I know. But, we’re 14 weeks into this pregnancy and we haven’t even gone out to buy anything yet. What if everything we want is sold out? What if we can’t get anything? What if it doesn’t all fit in the room? Harry, this room needs to be perfect,” you sighed out in exasperation, your hands on your hips as you puffed out a heavy breath. Your eyes scanning across the bed to where Harry was a mound under the covers, his head propped up on his pillow with his arms sitting on top of the duvet with his phone in his hands. “You’re not even listening to me.”
“No, no. I am, love. I promise. It’s just mum stressing about everything,” he sighed, pressing the lock button his phone and dropping it to his chest. “Now, we’re talking about the nursery, yes? I think the room at the end of the hall, it’s the biggest and we can always fill it up with furniture.”
With the upper floor of the London home feeling empty and in the need of a spruce up, the both of you had had the idea of decorating the other 4 rooms in the house – including the bedroom you both shared - as well as the nursery you’d be starting as soon as the furniture had been looked into and purchased; something you had both wanted to get done before the beginning of your third trimester.
“I know, I know. Harry, I just want this to be perfect. It’s our first baby together and we’re first time parents and I just – why are you staring at me like that?” You giggled, dropping an arm to your side as you caught eye contact with him. His green eyes staring directly into your own.
“I’m not staring at you. I’m just thinking how much of a lucky guy I am to have such a beautiful lady in my life. Like, it’s not everyday you get to see a stunning, gorgeous, breathtakingly beautiful lady standing in your bedroom dressed in your t-shirt and a pair of my boxer shorts that look great against her thighs and better on her than me,” he smirked, pressing his hands into the mattress of the double bed and pushing himself up to rest against the headboard. “Come sit with me. Woke up without you by my side this morning. What’s the deal?”
With the second trimester only just starting, your morning sickness has risen through the roof. At roughly the same time each morning – roughly around the half past seven mark – your stomach would churn and grumble and it would cause you discomfort as you tried your hardest to push the feeling away. Yet after you’d given up part of your energy is relieving yourself from the pain and discomfort, it was always a struggle to go back to bed no matter how inviting the covers looked and no matter how cuddly Harry seemed to be, as he snuggled deeply underneath the duvet and mewled out soft snores through his parted lips. It usually ended up in you sticking on a film or watching an old episode of Friends downstairs on the TV, and making yourself some tea as you waited for Harry to wake up from his sleep and entertain you for the rest of the day; taking the hours as they came.
“Bladder. Also, my stomach felt a bit off and I think I just needed to bring up the chicken from last night,” you murmured, shuffling across the carpeted floor and standing beside Harry’s side of the bed. “Also, I’m not feeling a hundred percent beautiful today.”
“It’s only 9 in the morning. You look gorgeous. So beautiful, so gorgeous and you’re all mine to fawn over,” Harry chuckled, patting his duvet-covered thighs with his palms. “Come cuddle with me. I’ve missed you this morning. I’m not used to waking up without you.”
“You whine too much, mister. I was only gone for half an hour.”
“Half an hour too long, love,” he murmured, smiling to himself as you threw a leg over his thighs and straddled his lap. “Hmm. I’m quite liking this position; you know that? Reminds me of the night in Greece, when we made our little lady in here,” he chuckled out in delight, laying his hands against your thighs and letting him thumbs rub at the warm skin.
“Little lady, huh? What makes you think we made a little girl? We may have the genes of a little boy splitting inside me,” you reasoned.
“No, no. I have a certain daddy spark that we’ve got a girl. We made a girl, and she’s going to look just like you with the hint of my mum and Gemma in there. My three favourite ladies in the whole wide world,” he whispered, dropping his head to your chest and pressing his lips to the valley between your breasts.
He was adamant and certain.
Adamant and certain that in your night filled with passion on your honeymoon in Greece, you had made a little girl who would become a spitting image of what he hoped would be you; her mother, because he was always and forever explaining how the world needed more women like you and how he would be graced and blessed to have a daughter and a wife who were the complete replica of one another, of which he adored with the whole entirety of his heart.
“Your body’s adjusting. It feels softer and more rounded,” he grunted, earning himself a swat to his upper arm.
“You don’t say that to your pregnant wife, Harry. For goodness sake, you’re lucky I’m in a good mood today,” you giggled, cupping his chin in your hands and tilting his head up, looking down into his green eyes as he stared intently back to you. “Hi, handsome.”
“Hi, gorgeous,” his voice came, rough and raspy and his breath was warm as it fanned across your face, the typical smell of his morning breath sometimes bringing you to your discomfort and slowly bringing up whatever content had been left behind in your stomach. As your eyes scanned his face with concentration, you couldn’t help but bring your eyes to the space of tanned skin between his upper lip and the bottom of his nose, where a patch of darkened stubble was slowly pushing and growing it’s way through.
“You’ve got some hair growing here. Are you going rugged, hm? Will I wake up to a full grown beard soon?” You taunted, running your thumb over his upper lip, the slight stubble of hair growing caught at the pad at the tip of your thumb, a ticklish feeling running through your hand. “You’re going to look like a bloody homeless man if you’re not careful, H.”
“Oi. I happen to look rather sexy, according to a million and one girls out there. Even a few guys have told me how gorgeous I am,” Harry smiled, his pink lips stretching and showing his milky-white teeth behind the flesh. “One of the traits our daughter is definitely going to have. Have you seen our features? She’s going to look like an angel.”
“Our little boy will be gorgeous, too. And he’ll look like an angel too. A little replica of his daddy,” you grinned, bringing your legs out from beneath your thighs and wrapping them around his waist. Your feet hooking just underneath his pillow as he pulled you closer to his bare chest, his tattoos prominent and bold against the white covers and glinting under the light of the sun peeking through the curtains of the window in the bedroom. “You slept naked again, didn’t you?”
“No,” he smirked, looking down at where his belly button was peeking over the edge of the duvet. His hair covering his face as it covered his blushing cheeks, as you sussed him out – yet it wasn’t hard to guess how he slept with his teenage habit sticking with him through to his adult hood, and by god, were you hoping that he would grow out of the habit by the time your kids were old enough to understand the anatomy of the human body.
“You did! Oh my goodness, you are unbelievable,” you giggled, feeling his legs shuffle beneath your bum. “I know you find it freeing and all that jazz, but, not when your pregnant wife is laying beside you. Also, especially not when she’s been craving sex for the past week and said naked person is always turning his pregnant wife down,” you warned, your eyebrow hitching up as Harry let out a deep laugh.
“I don’t keep turning you down,” he admitted shyly, a soft smile on his lips as he ran his thumbs up and down your skin.
“Why won’t you please me, Harry?”
It was a simple question.
Ever since you’d found out you were pregnant, it was tough to get Harry to understand the concept of having sex with a pregnant woman. Even with the doctors consent and the all-clear from the majority of the midwives and from Sophie as well, he had still taken it with a strong disagreement and had found a way to weave himself out of the situation by taking up his time with something else – this something else usually being a trip to the store to get the dinner for that evening, or a shower to get rid of the aching pain in his pants, or he would hide himself in his office to gather his thoughts together and maybe take his time scribbling some notes and lyrics down that sprung to his mind throughout the day. You were never sure why he weaved his way out of the situation, and with your hormones running through your body, it was tough to sit back and let him ignore you when you needed someone to take away the aching pain of wanting to be pleased.
“I’m scared,” he whispered, looking down at the duvet and feeling himself twitch beneath you, hardening and throbbing for a touch off of someone who knew his weaknesses the best. “What if I touch the baby? What if I penetrate the baby? What if, like, I knock the baby and something bad happens to it and I get the blame and you divorce me and I never see you again?” He worriedly spoke, his words slurring together in nervousness.
“Don’t be silly, Harry. You couldn’t do that to the baby, I promise. The doctor said it was perfectly normal for us to have sex,” you stated, a smile on your lips as you laced your fingers through his hair and tugged gently on the strands at the nape of his neck. His head moving slightly with each pull to his hair. “Please, Harry? Can we do it? I miss being intimate. It’s been ages,” you groaned, dropping your head to his shoulder.
“What if I don’t want to do it?” Harry teased, running his hands up and over the curve of your bum and underneath the t-shirt of his you were sporting that morning. Something you’d stolen from his wardrobe and slid on in a haste of covering your upper half before you rushed into the bathroom for a bout of sickness that was coursing through you.
“You have to be joking me? I can feel your dick hardening beneath me. Unless you’ve grown a third arm and it’s poking at me,” you giggled, earning yourself a poke to your hip. “Hmm. You smell nice. How does one simply smell so good after a night sleep?”
Tom Ford, strawberry shampoo and the distinct smell of mint is how he smelt pretty much everyday, letting the bathroom smell like a mixture of contents and making your insides fuzzy and warm.
“Simply because we haven’t had sex before we sleep. If we had sex before we slept, then, we’d be in trouble because I’d be sleeping in my own sweat,” he smirked, groaning slightly as you connected your lips to where his shoulder met the base of his neck. “Stop. I need to have a shower. We’ve got a busy day.”
“No, we haven’t.”
“Yes, we have. I’ve come up with an itinerary for today. We’re going to go have a look around some shops, get you started on a maternity wardrobe and we can look around the nursery store and get some idea on what we want for the nursery,” Harry smiled, resting his cheek against your head as you kept your face tucked into the crook of his neck. Your warm breath fanning across his already flushed skin. “I mean, we can look around at some baby clothes and check in baby stores, and maybe the local Homebase for some paint and shelves for photo frames and everything,” he added, chuckling as you lifted your head up and grinned softly.
“I like that idea better than sex right now. Can we do that? I want to look for some new jeans. I’ve come to the point where my jeans are becoming difficult to button up. I feel like I’m suffocating,” you groaned, rolling off of Harry’s lap and laying beside him, your feet coming to where his feet rested on the bed with your head just reaching his bare hip.
With you feeling constantly bloated and somewhat very pregnant, your clothes had felt slightly tighter against your body. Your jeans were becoming difficult to button up at the waist and your t-shirts were becoming tighter around the chest area which had lead to you stealing a few of Harry’s t-shirts and button ups as they felt comfortable upon your growing and adjusting body.
“We’ll look for a pair, I promise. Today is going to be spent looking for your clothes and some things for our little one,” Harry smiled, knocking his foot against yours. “Sound alright?
“That sounds wonderful,” you grinned, rubbing your eyes with your fists.
“Up we get then. Come on. Get in the shower and I might treat you to a bit of breakfast,” Harry smiled, moving his phone to the bedside table and letting it charge. “How does breakfast at Starbucks sound? A sausage sandwich and a cup of tea,” he suggested, watching as you sat yourself up and kept your back to him as you stood up and stretched out. Your arms reaching high into the air. “Hey, turn to me for a second. Do I see what I think I can see?” He grinned, your body turning slowly as his eyes stayed glued to your lower half.
“What do you see?”
“I see a bump. Do I see a bump? I do. I do,” he gasped, sitting up straight with his eyes widening. Your hands tugged at the t-shirt covering your upper half, tucking it up to your chest as you let your bare stomach come into view. “Oh my gosh. You have a bump. A sweet, gorgeous, lovely little curve,” he whispered, tearing his eyes away from your bump for just a second to grab the boxers that were wadded up beside the bed. “Just, wait there. I think we need to Instagram this. Or tweet. Our baby is showing,” he cooed, his legs kicking away at the duvet and letting his nude body come into the view as he tugged on his grey boxers and stood up from the bed, his phone in his hand.
“Harry, are you sure?”
“One hundred percent sure. We need to show everyone just how amazing this looks. Our little one is showing. I need to show my mum and Robin and Gemma and everyone,” Harry gushed, his phone tight in his hand as he fell to his knees in front of you. “Hey, little one. Hi. It’s daddy speaking in case you weren’t sure about it. I can finally see you. I can’t feel you kicking yet but mummy said you’re moving nicely and giving her some flutters. Daddy can’t wait to be able to feel you kicking, little one. I won’t be able to stop touching mummy’s tummy then,” he chuckled lightly, his palms cupping either side of your bump.
“Daddy’s just jealous I get to feel you kick and he doesn’t,” you giggled, running your fingers through Harry’s hair. “Are you going to take this photo of not? I really want a shower, and a good old hair wash,” you muttered, watching as he stood up and slide the camera app up on his phone.
“Come on then, love. Strike us a quick pose,” he smirked, crouching down as you tucked your t-shirt up and stood to the side to get a clearer view of the curve of your bump. “That looks beautiful. Instagram worthy, I’m telling you,” he whispered, looking at the photo on his screen as you tugged your t-shirt back down and adjusted the shorts on your hips.
“I love you, Mister Styles,” you whispered.
“I love you too, Missus Styles.”
* *

Notes