“You shouldn’t be walkin’ around this much,” Harry mumbled from behind you, pulling you from your trance, your eyes staring at the toast you’d just popped into the toaster, ready to be toasted for your breakfast – the only breakfast you’d seemingly been able to eat all of for the past few days. His figure was leaning against the doorframe of the kitchen, one leg crossing over his other as his arms stayed in their folded position against his chest. A chest that hadn’t seen the inside of a t-shirt for the last 2 days, with the London heat filling your home became too much for his clothed body to handle; opting to walk around with no t-shirt and a pair of loose boxers that his mother had gifted him for his birthday. “Go n’sit down. I’ll finish breakfast and then we can have a lazy day or somethin’,” he smiled, your figure turning on your heels.
Your eyes immediately took to scanning his body, taking in his tired and still-sleepy-looking appearance; his eyelids were still heavy with the lack of sleep he had endued through the night. His pink Tommy Hilfiger boxers, that he had opted to sleep in that night after his shower the previous evening, were crumpled at the hems as they hung loosely down his thighs, the waistband low on his hips and showing his fern tattoos in their full glory. His hair sticking up in all directions form his shuffling on the bed through the night, his hand wanting and urging for him to run through the strands that were no longer there and hanging down his shoulders; he missed it. His green eyes were soft behind his eyelids, intent and focusing upon your very pregnant body standing by the counter.
“Harry, m’fine,” you grumbled, his feet padding across the white tiled floor of the kitchen. “I just want to do somethin’ around the house. I’m not incapable of doing anything,” you sighed, his hands snaking around your waist with his fingers lacing together at the base of your back.
“I know, baby. But, we can’t risk you putting too much strain on yourself. We don’t want another scare like we’ve had in the past,” he stated, a hint of sincerity in his tone. “You worried me the other week, okay? I’m worried that you’ll go into early labour and put y’self in danger,” he explained.
It wasn’t anything serious.
You’d been on your feet for most of the day with Gemma – who was very much in need of female assistance in clothes shopping for her holiday with Michal – without taking short breaks for drinks and a relaxing moment where you munched on cake and spoke about whatever topic would spring to either one of your minds. You’d fallen faint, in the late afternoon, in a clothes store that was too hot for your liking, and as dehydrated as you were on the warm day, nothing seemed to be working in making you feel better. You’d taken a seat outside the changing rooms that Gemma had occupied herself in, in hopes it would clear your clouded and fuzzy sight as well as knocking some strength back into you, but it never worked. And with a grumble and a hand pushing through the curtain of the cubicle, grabbing at what you could only presume was one of her breasts, she had your full attention. Mumbling beneath your breath that you weren’t feeling well, you’d insisted through gritted teeth that you wanted Harry – and as soon as he’d heard the words through the speaker of his phone, he was out of the house and speeding to where you needed his assistance.
And even though it wasn’t anything serious and that you were fine – being given a drink of water by a shop-floor worker working that day – by the time he arrived to the store, he panicked and his mind immediately turned to the worst case scenario; early labour and complications occurring.
But you were fine. Given the all clear from the midwife and a warning to sit down more and stay bed-ridden until Baby Styles was ready to be brought into the world.
“I’ll be fine, Harry. I just want to do somethin’ other than lay on the sofa or stay in bed and have you waiting on me, hand and foot. I need to fend for myself,” you admitted with a smile, brushing your fingers up his bare arms. “I need to do this myself. I don’t mind you helping me out, but I don’t want you to take over me.”
“Okay,” he smiled, his lips pressed to your forehead. “How’re you feelin’ this morning? You slept well. I didn’t get a kick in the shins through the night,” he smirked against your forehead, his eyes closing in contentment as he pulled you as close as he could, the prominent curve of your bump resting against his own bare tummy.
With a growing bump and the large swell settled between your hips, with constant kicks and jabs to your ribs, it was difficult to stay in one comfortable position through the night. Finding comfort on your side, acting as the little spoon in Harry’s arms, you’d only end up rolling over in your sleep and feeling displeased and discomfort. Which lead to the early hours being filled with grunts leaving your mouth with each twist and turn you made, kicks to Harry’s shins with each movement or accidental punches to his face as you tugged on the duvet stuck and curled around his feet; waking him up in the process with a startled yelp and a rub to whatever limp of facial feature you had caused a pain too.
“I slept surprisingly well,” you smiled softly, the aroma of his cologne mixed with a musky smell of sweat forming from the sweltering head lingered on his body, his body shimmering in the light from the small sweat beads forming upon his skin. “You’re sweatin’, Peaches. Are you that hot?”
With the sun high in London and shining down without a cloud blocking it’s harsh and violent rays, the heat was beginning to become unbearable for some. A summer that was unlike no others form previous years. However, with the heat came it’s perks – it allowed you to crack out the barbecue that Robin and Anne had gifted you as an anniversary present a couple of years back, insisting you used it when the weather was just right for get-togethers and nights where the two of you fancied eating dinner cooked a little differently, as well as giving Harry to opportunity to use up the beers stocking up in the fridge from past get-togethers that were seemingly taking too much space up that you could use for other things.
“M’burnin’, I’m tellin’ you. This heat is different compared to Los Angeles. M’not used to it over here,” he murmured, retrieving his lips from your forehead and dropping his arms back to his side. “I think we could have a dip in the swimmin’ pool in the back garden, what do you think? Are you up for a nice afternoon spent outside?”
“That sounds delightful, Peaches.”
A snort left his mouth as the nickname rolled off of your tongue.
“Peaches. Are y’ever goin’ to give that up, hm?” Harry chuckled lightly, the sound of the toast popping up from the toaster behind you sounding around the kitchen and turning your attention from your husband standing in front of you. Your body turning on your heels back to the counter, your back pressing against his bare chest as his arms snacked around your waist and settled nicely upon the top of your prominent bump.
“I don’t think so. It suits you, Peaches,” you giggled, bringing your hands up on top of the counter and reaching for the butter you had taken from the fridge before Harry had entered the kitchen. “Do you want some toast?”
“No, no. I’m alright with some water for the moment. I just wan’to get in the water as soon as possible,” he mumbled against the back of your head. Your hair – where his face was pressed against – was soft and silky-smooth against his stubble-dusted cheeks. “M’goin’ to get into my trunks, okay? Don’t do anything too straining, and call me if you need anything from up high.”
“Harry, I’ll be fine. I’m just going to eat my toast and have a cup of tea before I go upstairs and get changed into a swimming costume,” you smiled, rolling your head back against his shoulder and nudging your nose against his relaxed jawline. “I’ll be fine. I promise. Go and get your cute, little, peachy bum in your trunks and enjoy the weather without worrying over me.”
“You’re pregnant, Gorgeous. I’m going to worry about you. Especially now that we’re so close to you going into labour,” he reasoned, his palms running across the 8-month swell nestled between your hips, acting as a home for the tiny baby set to grace your lives in a little under one month. “We don’t need you going into premature labour, do we?”
Of course you didn’t want that – you weren’t ready. With putting on a positive front to make Harry believe that you were ready, behind the façade, you were falling apart. If someone brought up the idea of labour, it put a worry into your mind; a worry about how it would pan out. You couldn’t plan the pain and you couldn’t plan any complications that would more than likely happen, and it worried you. Even though you felt at comfort with Harry by your side, he wasn’t the one to experience the pain, and with the words ‘I’ll be by your side the entire time’ leaving his lips whenever he felt your nerves sky-rocket, it didn’t bring your birthing worries down to an average level.
“No, I guess not.”
“Now, hurry and eat your toast and drink your tea. I wan’to spend some time with you in this heat,” he grinned, ducking his head down and pressing his lips to your t-shirt covered shoulder. “I love you.”
“I love you too, Peaches.”
* *
The sound of Harry swimming laps in the pool could be heard as you made your way down the stairs, a tight grip on the bannister as you stepped foot on the lower level of the house. With each step you took towards the back door, the sounds of Harry splashing around increased, a giggle leaving your lips as he dove beneath the water level and disappeared from sight. His figure distorted as he swam closer to the bottom of the pool, his figure bobbing up once he’d ran out of breath, a smile on his lips when he noticed your pool-ready body standing just feet away from the entrance steps to the pool.
“Hey, pretty girl,” he cooed, with a grin as you stepped closer to the steps and let one of your feet touch the step and submerge beneath the water. “Careful, Gorgeous,” he said, his arms held up with his fingers spread and wiggling to gather your attention, waiting for you to take them to guide you down the steps submerged beneath the water. “’ere we go. How’s that feeling? Do you feel cooler?”
Much cooler.
And much more relaxed against the hot weather.
“I feel perfectly fine, Harry,” you smiled, his arms holding your elbows supportively as you perched yourself on the third step down into the water. The surface reaching just below your breasts, your bump completely emerged beneath the cool and relaxing water. “It’s nice and relaxing.”
“It’s more relaxing if you come further in and have a swim around,” he smiled, his hands brushing down your forearms and gripping onto your hands, tugging on them lightly to get you to stand to your feet. “C’mon. Come have a swim with me,” he cooed, a hint of begging in his voice as his green eyes stared at you from behind the tinted lenses of his sunglasses. A pair of glasses that had been added to the collected he had been hoarding in a draw in the wardrobe of the master bedroom.
“I’m alright here for a bit,” you admitted, a smile on your lips as you stayed sat upon the tiled step beneath the water. “Baby Styles seems to like it here. She’s kicking me like crazy,” you giggled, bringing a palm over your costume-covered bump and giving it a heart rub and a pat, creating ripples upon the water level.
“Can you imagine when we have her? We can spend countless hours out here, and I can teach her how to swim when she’s older and I can buy her a set of arm bands and we can have pool parties with her friends or invite the lads over and bully them,” he laughed, his forearms resting upon the step above the one you were perched upon, his body lax and tension-free and floating to the top of the water. The tips of his toes sticking from beneath the clear and seemingly blue coloured water from the tiles lining the inner walls. “And we can buy her a swing set and a slide and a trampoline.”
“She’s not even born yet, Peaches. Let’s just enjoy the last week or so as just the two of us,” you laughed softly, the kicking in your belly seeming to increase with each rub from your palm. A wince leaving your lips every so often as you received a jab to your ribs from what you could guess where her small foot, kicking into position and readying herself to be born in just under a months time.
“S’the matter?”
“I definitely think Baby Styles has your gangly, long legs,” you smirked, turning your head to face him. The glasses upon his nose falling down the bridge and stopping just at the tip where it curved around. “She’s kicking my ribs and I’m sure she thinks my organs are footballs.”
“At least we know she’s still active and growing in there,” Harry cooed, shuffling his body beneath the water and turning on his front.
He submerged his head beneath the water, his nose coming into contact with the side of your bump, followed by the warm feeling of his lips being pressed against the costume covering your skin. A smile on your lips as he popped up from the beneath the water, his fringe sticking to his forehead and almost covering his eyes.
“She loves you already, y’know that? I mean, you’ve been nothin’ but supportive of me and you’ve been incredible with helping me plan out a birthing plan and everything, and the way you sing to her every night so she gets used to your voice. I know she loves you. She kicks every time she hears your voice,” you admitted, cupping his cheek in your palm and turning his head up to you. “I love you, too. Obviously.”
“Well, the feeling is mutual. Obviously,” he mocked in amusement. “It’s my duty, as your husband, to look after you when you need me too. You’re pregnant. I’m going to be supportive. I vowed to care and worry about you, and this has given me a kick up the bum and seeing that you sometimes need me more than ever,” he reasoned, perching up on his knees. His toes pressed against the bottom of the pool, keeping him stable. “You’ve been nothing but amazing through this pregnancy and I couldn’t be any prouder to call you my missus, y’know that? And I know I can be annoying at times by being so protective, but it’s because I love you and I want what’s best for you. I want you to be okay and if it means having you get pissed at me, then I know I’m doing my duty correctly,” he chuckled lightly.
“You can be such a wanker sometimes,” you giggled softly, your eyes tearing up with happiness. “God, I love you. I know you love me. And I’m glad I’ve got someone to protect me and look after me when I need it. Especially when my ideas can be pretty reckless and crazy.”
“Well, you do the same for me when I get reckless n’crazy,” he admitted, a laugh leaving your lips.
“Oh, Peaches. I do. I love you, so much.”

Notes

Daddy Harry is my weakness, oh my goodness. Especially when the missus is pregnant and he’s making sure she’s okay. Jesus. x