Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“I’m just saying, it’ll be a lot more comfortable if you-

“I’m not looking for comfortable, Ed, I’m trying to make a statement.”

“Why not both? There’s nothing wrong with being comfortable and sexy at the same time. After all, that’s me in the mornings-“

“Harry, I can’t exactly go bare ass naked to this dinner-“

“Marce, watch your mouth in front of Allie.”

They’ve been at it for ages.

I’d say hours, but I stopped keeping track the moment I was finished being dressed, myself.

I’m trussed in a fluffy, voluminous dress. The pastel green washes over my body in thick, wavy bundles, puffing over my arms and swooping around my waist. The dress barely reaches to my thighs, the folds of fabric floating out just enough to cover the slip of fabric buttoned between my legs. The bodice is flush to my skin, thick ribbons of fabric sewn to sides and tied at the back into a bow wider than my waist.

Objectively, the dress is stunning, but I can’t help but drop my gaze to the gauzy white socks pulled over my knee with the little bows settled at the hem, and the two accessories pinned into my hair, matching green bows set atop my hairbuns to compliment my outfit. At the very least, the dress covers the nappy taped around my waist, though it doesn’t stop it feeling any less prominent.

I shift where I sit, squirming. I need to pee, but it doesn’t hurt to put it off as long as possible.

I pick up the wooden blocks in front of me, stacking them.

I used to have a play piano. I loved it, until they decided it wouldn’t do to have me playing actual music, at least not while I was getting settled into my new role.

That was eight months ago.

They haven’t brought it back.

It hurts to think about.

I think of asking after it, sometimes. But I don’t want what’s going on right now to get even worse. It’s… tolerable, at least.

“Oh, no, Allie, not your fingers!”

I jerk my head up at Marcel’s call.

His tone is loud, alarmed; enough to shock me into dropping my block.

And letting go of my bodily functions, apparently.

The tower crashes in front of me.
Marcel has crouched down in front of me, a concerned look on his face as he draws my fingers out of my mouth before I can have the chance to.

“Allie, Y’cant have your fingers in your mouth tonight. Alright?” He says, eyes locked on mine and brow furrowed. “It’s very important that we all look presentable. And it won’t do to have your cuticles all ripped up when we go and meet some of these people.”

I nod shakily, torn between Marcel’s stony face and the fact I can feel the warm wetness seeping throughout the fabric.

“Sorry, Daddy,” I mumble, watery.

Another set of footsteps leaves the bathroom to come toward us, drawing Marcel’s attention away.

“Marce, don’t yell at her,” Harry tuts, leaning against the doorframe with a toothbrush between his teeth.

“M’not yellin’, I’m bein’ firm,” Marcel cuts.

To my dismay, I can feel tears pricking at my eyes.

“Loud kinda firm you got goin’ on there,” Harry raises his brows, ducking into the bathroom once more.

Marcel rolls his eyes at the space his brother had left. He turns back around, his stern expression dissolving into wide-eyed worry.

“Oh, darling, it’s alright!” Marcel assures. “Daddy’s just nervous.”

He cups my face, swiping away the streaking line that dribbles down my cheek.

“It’s okay, hmm?” Marcel coos. “S’alright. Y’okay.”

“Look, you made her cry,” Harry grumbles, appearing once more. “Told you you were being too loud.”

Harry crosses the threshold in one quick dart, pushing himself in front of his brother and lifting me from the ground and onto his hip.

It presses the wetness into me harder, but the discomfort doesn’t take a hand to Marcel’s irritable face.

“Oi, no, don’t take my baby, away. You don’t get to do that.”

“Marce, I’m not trying to undermine you, she just needs a little space-“

“Don’t make me the villain here, Harry, you didn’t even hear the whole thing.”

“I heard enough that she started cryin’-“

“What in the bloody hell is going on in here?”

I breathe hard, finding Edward having come into the fray.

His white button up is half undone, tucked neatly into the front of his black dress pants. He has white socks on, and he fiddles with the button on the wrist of his sleeve. His long hair is neatly swooped back, arranged into a clean bun at the back of his head.

“We just had a moment. Bubby’s been chewin’ her fingers a bit, Marce had a freak out.”

“It was not a freak out!”

I squeeze hard at the fabric pulled over Harry’s back.

Edward slowly draws closer. He takes in the three of us, finally landing back on his youngest brother.

“Marcel, we want her to look presentable, but she’s still going to look like our baby,” Edward soothes.

Harry pats absently at my bottom, stopping after just a moment to pat around the now squishy material a little.

“Oh, sweetheart, you wet already?”

I avert my gaze, nodding shortly.

“S’alright. C’mon, let’s go change you.”

He thankfully takes me out of the room and into my own, Marcel and Edward’s conversation petering away.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I didn’t realise.”

“What’s that, pumpkin?” Harry asks.

“M-My hands,” I mumble, “I’m trying not to, I promise.”

“Oh, sweetheart, it’s okay!” Harry assures, kissing my temple, “I know y’are.”

I feel my heart leap in my chest, eyes blurring.

He lays me down on the change table, taking my hands in his. His face softens as he takes in mine, cupping my cheek.

“Allie-babe, it’s alright,” he breathes, smiling. “Marcel’s just being a twat. I mean- you know what I mean. Daddy’s naughty, don’t say that word, okay?”

He smacks his own hand for emphasis.

So like my Harry I used to know.

I giggle a little, tucking my bottom lip between my teeth.

“Daddy’s funny when he swears, is he?” Harry asks.

He reaches forward, digging his fingers into my belly and tickling my skin.

I jerk with a laugh, tossing my head to the other side as he brings both hands into play.

“Dah-Daddy, stop!” I laugh.

I push at his hands, Harry finally halting his movements. He grins as I calm down, breathing hard to catch it back.

“S’much better,” Harry decides. He brushes hair out of my face. “Much prefer those giggles than you crying.”

Chapter Text

I’m just about done when it hits me-
Daddy’s not here.

I’ve wet myself and now Nick is going to have to change me.

I freeze in position, frantically searching for Louis.

He’s turned to me, exasperated.

“Don’t stop pushing the train, Parin, we gotta catch the baddie!” He grumbles.

His face softens as he finally catches my gaze.

“What’s wrong, baby Parin?” Louis asks.

He reaches out a hand, cupping my cheek gently.

Like Daddy does.

A whimper bubbles up from my throat, involuntarily squeaking out. I feel tears prick my eyes, and I push my knees close together.

“You want me to get your teddy?” Louis asks.

I nod my head, tears spilling over.

“Okay. You wait right here, Louis be right back!”

He jets off, rushing out of the living room and out of my line of vision.

I sit, the dampness between my legs slowly growing cooler, as I hear muffled sound coming from somewhere else. It grows closer, again, Louis’ call echoing louder in his proximity.

My heart jumps to my throat as I hear Nick’s voice lilting through the hallway behind Louis.

“Lou, please don’t run in the house, darlin’,” Nick coos.

“I gotta- I gotta- teddy!” Louis exclaims.

The two come into view, now, Louis dancing a skip into the living room with Nick padding behind.

Louis continues to dangle my bear above his head for Nick to see, little socked toes slipping on the hardwood floor.

“Yes, I can see, Lou,” Nick says, “but I would still like you to walk, please.”

He leans against the kitchen counter, picking up his mug and taking a sip.

“Baby Parin, sad!” Louis exclaims.

He crouches down in front of me, handing me the bear.

I take it with shaking fingers, crushing it to my chest.

I nearly vomit as Nick finally turns to me.

His content expression falls. He quickly sets his mug down, striding across the few feet to crouch down in front of me.

“What’s wrong, darlin’?” He asks. “Are you hurt?”

Louis leans close, mouth pressed to my ear.

“Did you did a wee?” Louis whispers.

I squeeze my eyes shut, sobbing aloud and nodding my head frantically.

“Oh, darlin’, it’s okay!” Nick reassures. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

Nick reaches down, and I futilely let him cradle me up into his grasp.

“Papa- Papa, the baby-“

Louis near trips over his own feet to follow us.

“Yes, Lou, I understand, darlin’,” Nick says.

Nick carries me throughout the house, my cries growing in pitch as we enter Louis’ room.

Nick shushes me, patting my back gently.

“Hey, s’alright, sweetheart, s’just you’re nappy,” Nick soothes.

He sets me down on the change table, laying me down gently.

My breathing picks up, hard, shaky and wet. I can’t get enough air, my vision going fuzzy as my head starts to pound.

“No, no, no!” I choke.

I cough on a particularly inhale, the wetness in my mouth sticking to the inside of my throat. I shake my head, legs clenched together. I think Nick is speaking, his hand trying to tilt my face toward him, but it’s like I can’t hear him, only the rush in my ears.

I’m lifted back off the table in a flurry, cradled into Nick’s neck as the man begins pacing the room.

The cries keep on coming. It’s like I can’t stop. Nick’s patting my back, calling soothingly, but I can’t hear him. After what seems like an age of pacing and sobbing, I clench hard at his shirt, panting, vision finally clearing of my lightheadedness enough to choke out a single word,

“Daddy.”

“-that’s it, there we go, just breathe, you’re alright.” Nick’s soothing.

His voice is petering through the air, meeting my ears finally. I can hear Louis, too, now.

“There we go,” Nick coos, as I breathe deeply. “Oh, darling. I know it’s scary, but everything’s going to be okay. Let’s get your Daddy on the phone. Would you like that?”

He cups my face, rubbing his thumbs through my tears.

“Daddy?” I croak.

“Yes, sweetheart,” Nick coos, “Let’s calm down, and we’ll call him, hmm?”

Daddy, I think, dizzy, Daddy, Daddy, Daddy.

My breathing eventually slows, tears beginning to run down once more.

“That’s it,” Nick soothes, rubbing my back, “What a good girl. There we are. Good girl, Parin.”

Nick pulls his phone out, tapping through until he clicks on a phone number. He puts it on speaker as it rings through, and I can hear Harry’s voice petering through.

I choke on a sob, a tear dribbling down at the familiarity of his voice.

“Hey, Haz. Everything’s alright, s’just your little one’s quite upset about having her nappy changed, thought you might be able to calm her down a bit,” Nick explains.

“Can you put me on FaceTime, Nick?” I hear Harry call.

Nick does as asked, and soon the screen is lit up with our faces. He turns it toward me, quick enough for it to focus on Harry’s face.

“Sweetheart?” Harry calls.

I turn to the phone, breath hiccuping in my chest. Tears fill my eyes as I take in his face filling the screen, brows furrowed and green eyes creased in concern.

“Daddy,” I sob.

“Oh, my poor baby,” Harry coos. “What’s wrong, my love?”

“Come home!” I plead.

Harry turns his face, speaking to Mitch behind him.

“Maybe we should go home.”

“No, it’s alright, H,” Mitch assures, “Nick said they’re fine, she’s just upset because she has to have her nappy done. El was just like her. She’ll be fine, I promise.”

Nick takes the moment to walk back toward the changing table, setting me on my bottom on the edge of it with his body cocooning me safely.

I see Harry sigh, staring at the floor before his bright green gaze turns on me, again.

“You need to let Uncle Nick change your nappy.”

Tears fill my eyes, and I shake my head harshly.

“Only you,” I hiccup.

Louis has approached, grasping for my hand. I take it, squeezing shakily.

“Daddy can’t right now, sweetheart,” Harry apologises. “We’re gonna be home soon, yeah? But you need to let Uncle Nick do your nappy. You don’t wanna get a sore bottom again, do you?”

The nappy changes were one thing, but the ‘air dry’ time to fix the rash?

I shiver. Not exactly something I wanted a repeat of.

I shake my head, a sob huffing from my lips.

“Okay, then, baby,” he says. “You listen to Uncle Nick, hmm?”

I take a couple deep breaths, squeezing Louis’ hand as I let Nick lay me back down on the changing table.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” Nick praises.

He rubs one of my thighs gently before pushing them up and out slightly, pressing my knees further apart.

My stomach tenses as he brushes both hands over it, drawing down to undo the buttons of my bodysuit.

“Are you lying still, baby?” Harry checks.

I tense as the fabric is pulled apart, Nick tucking it out of the way of the nappy.

“Yes, Daddy,” I whisper.

“Good girl!” He praises gently. “Such a good girl for Daddy.”

I wince as Nick pulls at the tabs of the nappy, my legs tensing up.

“Will Daddy sing for you, sweetheart, just like he does at home?”

I feel tears prick my eyes at the reminder, face going hot.

“Okay,” I whisper.

Harry starts to sing ‘You are my sunshine’, Louis joining in as best he can.

I squeeze his hand, face tilted toward where Harry’s voice is filtering through the phone.

It’s excruciating, if not entirely familiar, just how easily Nick wipes down all my soiled skin. He soothes me gently, too, cooing as he applies a little cream and puffs powder over my genitals.

I lie still, hands shaking in fists as Nick pulls the soiled material out from under me, shoving it into the nappy bin and pressing another under my hips.

“Nearly done, and- all done!” Nick announces.

He pulls the front of the nappy up, finally covering my front. My eyes fall lidded in relief, thumb drifting to my mouth as Nick tapes up the sides.

“Oh, my good girl!” Harry cheers, “I’m so proud of you for listening to Nick, sweetheart.”

I blink wetly, breathe still shaky.

“Daddy will be home soon, okay? I miss you so much, my darling!” Harry soothes.

And when Nick ends the call, and redresses me and announces it’s time for a bottle, I don’t have the energy to argue anymore.

Having Louis’ hand to hold throughout the whole thing definitely makes it a little easier, especially when he’s grasping his own bottle of milk and absently squeezing my palm while he watches ‘Blue’s Clues’ from his spot beside me. And when Nick announces it’ll be nap time for the both of us, and he lays us down on piles of blankets in the living room to cuddle together under, and if I close my eyes and cuddle close to Louis and breathe in his smell, I can imagine it’s just like it was only a couple years ago.

And that, in itself, makes everything feel just a little bit better.

Chapter Text

They did say in the morning.

There’s barely light streaming in through the curtains when I wake.

I push the grey fabric back, squinting through the pinkish orange glow filling the horizon. It dips and flickers through the trees, their trunks dotted along the seemingly endless paddocks that rush along beside us.

The light is dawn, no less, but light means morning, which means it’s daytime, but most importantly it means that I can be awake.

I yawn, stretching out with a big shake.

The fullness of my bladder makes itself well known.

I shove the curtains to the inside of the bus out of the way, frowning at the guardrail.

I never could figure out how to undo the lock. I suppose that might have been the point.

The noise it was making with me attempting to get it undone seems to have woken someone, anyway; Niall shoving his own curtain aside and peering at me, blearily.

“Wha’ssa matter?” Niall croaks.

“Wee-wee. I gotta-“ I manage.

“Oh, right,” Niall says.

He stumbles out of his bunk, undoing the barrier, with such ease it fills me with awe, and a little jealousy.

Niall helps me down, and I stumble into the bathroom. My pull up is still dry and I shove it down with just enough time to relieve myself where I should for the most part, but Niall still helps to clean up the dribble down my leg before my pull up and pants are fixed back into their right position.

He guides me back to the bunks, where I grab my bunny and promptly lean down to the one underneath mine.

I pull back the curtain, spying my Daddy’s parted mouth and very much sleeping face.

“Daddy, FIFA now?” I murmur, remembering to keep my voice low.

Harry grumbles, a croaky noise deep in his throat that tells me he’s not really awake.

I cast a hand over his hair, gentle and ghost like, like he does to me when he’s trying to wake me up. It has his eyes fluttering, before he finally rewards me with a squinty gaze.

“Daddy, FIFA?” I repeat.

He smiles, softly, eyes closing. He reaches out toward me, pulling me into his bunk and wrapping me in his arms under the covers.

“Lie down for a bit, pumpkin,” he mumbles, lips to my forehead, “Daddy’s still wakin’ up.”

It smells so much like my Daddy in here. I feel my eyes drooping, the rumble of the moving vehicle and the warmth of Harry’s closeness lulling me to sleep once more.

-

The brightness filtering through the curtain lets me know that it’s a lot later when I wake, again.

My head is a whole lot fuzzier, too.

I whimper, trying to shuffle away from the wetness irritating my genitals.

“Daddy,” I mumble.

The bunk is empty, aside from me. I whine, kicking at the blankets.

“Dah-ddy,” I croak.

It’s only a few moments before I hear footsteps, the curtain being pulled back and my Daddy’s face pressing through.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” he coos, “Y’wake up, lovie?”

“Daddy,” I croak.

Daddy shushes me, brushing his thumbs through the tears leaking from my eyes.

“Oh, bubba,” he coos, “S’alright, Daddy’s here.”

I reach for him, hiccuping.

Daddy pulls me up into his arms, cradling my head into the crook of his neck. He sways gently, lips pressed to my temple as he heads out toward the empty back lounge.

“D’yeh have a nice sleep?” He asks.

I hum noncommittally. I press my thumb between my lips, sucking placidly.

“Lou-Lou and Zee are awake. They’re havin’ pancakes for breakfast. D’yeh want some?”

The words take a moment to register.

“Be’fast,” I mumble.

Daddy settles on one of the couches, rubbing my back. I squirm in his lap, the wetness in my pull up irritating.

“Yeah, breakfast,” Daddy says, “Should we go wee wee before we put a new pull up on?”

I only stare out the window, blinking sluggishly. The trees are zooming by fast, and I hum as they blend together in a zip of dark and light green.

Harry coaxes me out from my spot in his neck.

“Or are we still tired?” Daddy asks. “C’mon, bubby, let’s-“

He pauses as he takes in my face, his eyes rounding out.

I blink, staring right back. Placidly, I suckle on my thumb.

“Oh, Charlie bear,” Daddy breathes.

And then he’s grinning, pressing kiss after gentle kiss to the sleep flushed plane of my cheek.

I giggle, the little facial hair he hasn’t yet shaved off making me giggle as it tickles my skin.

“My little baby,” Daddy coos.

He presses one more kiss to my nose, standing from the couch. He finds and lays out the portable changing mat, laying me right down on top of it.

He pulls out changing supplies, pushing my knees up to my chest.

“Think it’s a nappy day, hey, princess?” Daddy coos.

I don’t reply, sucking on my thumb. I look up, the back window large enough to spy the runaway sky through.

“What can you see, uh?” Daddy commentates. “Are there some birdies flying?”

He makes quick work of beginning to change me, ripping at the sides of the pull up.

“Birdie,” I mumble.

I squirm against the coolness of the wipes, Daddy cleaning me up with ease regardless.

He powders me and fits a nappy over me, taping it together. He takes the moment to sit me up and strip me of my pyjamas, dressing me with clothes from one of the drawers beneath the couch seats.

“Li-Li?” I ask.

Daddy pulls on soft grey leggings and an oversized white t shirt, slipping on some soft crew socks as well. He takes a moment to coax my thumb from my mouth, swapping it out for a pacifier.

“You want to see Li?” Daddy asks.

His face is pulled into a grin.

I nod. I reach up to his face, poking at his dimple. He turns to kiss my finger, making me giggle.

“You don't normally ask for him, I’m sure he’ll be well pleased.”

Yes, I did often ask for Zayn, or Niall. It was hard for a baby not to have favourites when they always gave her what she wanted, after all.

Daddy carries me into the main lounge, Niall and Zayn turning toward us from their spot in the kitchenette. Zayn is flipping pancakes, just as Daddy had said.

“Look who’s finally awake!” Daddy announces.

Louis and Liam call good morning from their spots on the sofa.

“Morning, Charlie babe,” Niall greets. He exist the kitchenette with a steaming mug, pressing a kiss to my cheek as he walks past.

“Hello, princess,” Zayn greets, smiling. “Did you have a nice sleep?”

I nod my head, taking a couple pulls of the pacifier.

We continue on toward the sofa, where Daddy sets me down on the sofa beside a bedhead-ridden Liam. The man sets down his mug, steam billowing from the top steadily. 

“Guess who was askin’ for you?” Daddy asks Liam.

Liam gives me a sleepy grin.

“Aww, that’s sweet, darlin’,” Liam coos croakily. “Come have a cuddle.”

He pulls me into his lap, and I rest against his chest. I breathe in his scent, eyelids fluttering at the comforting feeling of his strong arms wrapped around me.

Daddy comes back with a bottle of milk, which he presses gently between my lips.

Liam takes hold of it as I drink. I hum at the honeyed taste, the milk thicker than cows milk, a little more rich and filling. The tassels of Liam’s jumper hang by my face, and I reach up to fiddle with them. The brush-like ends feels soft against my fingertips, and I wind them around and around, again and again.

“What’ve you got, hmm?” Liam coos.

I giggle, smiling up at him as I move them around and around.

“We feelin’ a bit little today?” Liam asks.

My Daddy smiles, so so big, that it has me smiling, too.

Once the milk is gone, a pile of pancakes topped with strawberries, bananas and maple syrup makes their way in front of me. Daddy settles down next to me, cutting up small pieces and helping to feed them to me in between bites for himself.

Once we have finished he takes the plate away. Liam picks me up, carrying me further down the sofa to sit beside Zayn.
He presses a kiss to my head, bidding us goodbye.

I shuffle closer to him, until our legs are touching. Zayn takes it upon himself to pull me up into his lap, where I promptly curl up against his chest.

There’s no FIFA on the tv, this time, and I gasp with excitement as it flicks over to ‘Bear in the Blue House’.

My Daddy comes close, pulling out his phone. I blink as the camera sounds, turning to find my Daddy smiling behind the camera.

He taps away at the screen, slipping it into his pocket. After a moment his phone buzzes to life with activity, a smile splitting his lips.

“D’yeh post it?” Zayn asks.

“Yeah,” Harry smiles, “Mine and your post for the week done.”

Zayn laughs, the vibration reverberating through to mine.

My Daddy leans close, then, hands pressed into the sofa seat.

“When Bear’s all finished, we’re going to go finish getting ready for the day, alright, pumpkin?”

He brushes a hand over my hair, tucking some pieces out of my eyes. I look up at him, smiling behind my pacifier as I point to the screen.

“Blue, Daddy,” I grin.

Daddy kisses my cheek, smiling.

“There’s your Blue,” he agrees, “Such a good girl, aren’t you?”

I didn’t always remember much when I feel this fuzzy. But I know my Daddy is full of love and cuddles and kisses, and that’s all that I need to know, anyway.

Chapter Text

“Sit down while you’re eating, please.”

“Have you washed your hands? You don’t want to get germs on your food.”

“Don’t touch that.”

“Not too quickly.”

“Slow down.”

“Watch where you’re going.”

“Time for bed, princess.”

I am quite fond of Harry, but sometimes the amount of rules he puts together makes my head spin.

“Can you sit down while the bus is moving, sweetheart?”

I spin around, widening my eyes in Harry’s direction. He’s not even watching me, just scrolling through his phone.

“Niall’s standing up, too! Everyone stands up while the bus is moving.” I exasperate.

“I’m not in charge of Niall, sweetheart, I’m in charge of you.” He states.

He finally looks up from his phone.

“Don’t make me ask you again, darlin’,” Harry sighs.

“You don’t have to ask me at all!” I whine. “I’m going to the bunk, anyway, so you don’t have to worry about me.”

“Watch your tone, please.” Harry murmurs, brow raised. “And I do have to worry about you.”

Harry appraises me. I sigh deep in my chest, foot itching to stomp on the floor.

“Alright, then,” he acquiesces, “As long as you sit down in the bunk right away. Don’t want you to fall over.”

I turn on my heel, rolling my eyes as I shove my way through into the bunks.

I’ve barely been on my bed for long enough to mope properly by the time I hear footsteps approaching.

I breathe deeply, hoping it’s my Daddy come to apologise, but the voice has an accent that tilts just slightly differently.

“Y’alright, Marley?”

I sigh heavily, turning around to find Zayn leaning over the bunk.

Tears well up, and I furrow my brow to blink them away. Stupid.

“Harry…” I swallow, hard. “I’m not… dumb, you know?”

Zayn appears taken aback. I want to roll my eyes, but then he brushes a hand over my cheeks, and all I can think about is biting down the lump in my throat.

“Much cleverer than me, Moo,” Zayn hums. He pauses, then, just watching me and my leaky eyes. “Y’Daddy’s just takin’ care of you, you know that, right, moppet?”

Everyone’s always on his side.

I shrug off his hand, trying to hide the coming tears as I turn back over on my mattress.

I hear Zayn sigh, and wait for him to say something, but the sound of his retreating footsteps is the only thing that fills the bunk.

Even Zayn’s had enough of me.

I frown, getting up out of bed to try to find him. I tiptoe toward the front of the hallway, approaching just close enough to spy through the divider.

Zayn is leant against one of the walls, Harry still seated on the lounge.

“You gonna go see her?” I hear Zayn ask.

“I’m gonna give her a minute, let her cool off before we have a talk.”

My stomach drops.

Zayn says something quieter, making Harry laugh. I lean closer to the curtain, brow furrowing to catch his next words.

“…it’s so hard for her, how she doesn’t understand. She’s just a baby, you know,” Harry says.

I can’t help it. My fear of getting in trouble is overridden in an instant. Tears prick my eyes as I burst through the curtain, breathing hard through my scowl.

“I do so understand!” I shout.

Harry’s eyes widen, a moment, before he settles into concern.

“Charlie-“

“Why would you say that?” I demand, interrupting. “Do you think-think I’m stupid?”

“Darling, of course not,” Harry starts.

He leans forward, brow furrowed and sympathetic. But then he passes a soft glance to Zayn, like they’re in on some secret, and I clench my fists.

“I know what’s going on! Stop talking about me like- like I don’t know!” I shout.

Harry stands, stepping forward and folding his arms over his chest.

“Charlie, that’s enough shouting,” Harry says, firmly. “Would you like to talk about this with Daddy?”

He’s talking like he’s serious, but he’s got the same face on that he has right before he sends me to the corner.

It’s nothing but more of the same.

“No!” I shout.

“Charlie, I just told you that was enough,” my Daddy warns. “Come here, now.”

“No!”

I stamp my foot, turning and heading back through the curtain.

“Charlie!” The call comes muffled through the material I had just walked through.

My heart rises into my throat as I hear someone rise from the couch, the footsteps following me quicker than it takes for me to hide back into the bunk.

A hand grasps my bicep, and I spin to find my Daddy’s firm face.

“No!” I shout.

I yank at my arm, hitting out at my Daddy. I make contact with his stomach.

My eyes go wide, my Daddy’s face dropping into being very not impressed.

“Alright, that is enough,” he states.

He takes me by the hand, taking me into the back lounge. He rounds to me, leaning down with a very stern frown on his face.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but this behaviour is absolutely unacceptable,” he states.

Harry sits down on the couch. He pulls me down over his lap, pulling down my pants and pull up in one go.

“You are getting ten smacks, for shouting, and not listening, and hitting Daddy, my goodness,” he enunciates, “and then we are going to have a talk about this behaviour.”

I suck in a shaky breath, the fight beginning to swim into embarrassment.

He gives no further warning as his hand makes sharp contact with my behind.

I can vaguely make out Harry counting, the numbers raw with the sting of his hand as it makes contact with my bare skin.

My breath comes shakily, body tense against each smack. Everything is slowly going fuzzy, my Daddy’s voice growing softer and further away, the only clarity coming in the form of his hand and my skin.

By the end the tears have fallen, and I’m sobbing brokenly into the couch.

“Ten,” Daddy says, fuzzy and far away. “All done, sweetheart.”

He rights my pull up and pants, and I let out a hiss as the fabric brushes my raw skin. He pulls me up off his lap, cradling my body close to his.

He holds me a moment, his heartbeat petering through to mine, his arms curled firm around my shaking form. He takes a moment to brush his palms over my wet cheeks before he sets himself in front of me.

“Now, do you know why Daddy gave you a smack?” He asks.

He’s staring at me with those clear, green eyes, so assured and affirmed I have nowhere to go.

I swallow.

“Yelled… Yelled at you.” I whisper.

Harry nods.

“That’s right. You yelled at Daddy. You also spoke to me with words that weren’t very kind, and ran away from me when I asked you to do something. And what else?”

My cheeks heat up.

“Hit you,” I mumble. “In- In the tummy.”

“That’s right. Was that very kind, to do those things to Daddy?”

I stare up at him, breathing hard. Hesitantly, I shake my head.

“So, what can you say to Daddy?”

“Sorry,” I whisper. “M’sorry, Daddy.”

And I am. I hiccup, more tears falling.

“Thank you for apologising, darling,” Daddy croons. He brushes his thumbs under my eyes, swiping away the tears.
“It’s all done, now. No need for any more tears over it, hmm?”

I nod shakily, sniffling.

“Now, I think it’s important that we talk about what’s made you so upset, poppet,” Harry says. “I don’t like seeing you so upset. Breakin’ Daddy’s heart.”

He curls a strand of hair back behind my ear.

“Are you ready to talk about it now, or would you like to have some time to calm down a bit? Maybe we can watch a movie, read a story together?”

Even though the fuzz is starting to settle thick, I can’t shake the feeling that it’s all happening so quickly, and I very much don’t know how to deal with it.

So I settle for shrugging, pressing away from the warmth of his body.

“Go to bed,” I whisper.

Harry frowns, but respects my choice. I try not to think about the pit in my stomach as he tucks me into bed so gently, so soothingly, that it almost washes all my confusion and hurt away in an instant.

Almost.

I’m not sure how long it is until Harry returns, but when he does, it’s with a request.

“Hey sweetheart,” Harry murmurs. “It’s nearly time to arrive. We’ve gotta get ready to go to the hotel and then the concert. Okay?”

I nod, starting to sit up. Harry offers me his hand out of the bunk, and I take it. He ushers me toward the seats. I let him settle me into the one next to him, buckling the belt over my body.

But he’s forgotten my bunny. And it’s only little, but after all of that, he couldn’t remember that one thing for me?

It’s hard not to squirm during the concert after everything that’s happened.

And when it’s over, and the boys all rush backstage and get ready to head to the hotel, I can’t help but let it out.

“Hello, my love,” Harry grins.

He rushes up to me, pulling me into a tight hug. He all sweaty and a little bit smelly but he’s my Daddy and it makes my chest tight.

“Alright, darling,” Harry coos.

He brushes my hair back out of my face, smiling gently.

“Time for bed. Let’s go back to the hotel, yeah?”

And there’s lots of commotion going on in the room, and I can see Louis grabbing up a bag and Niall taking out his in-ears and Paul talking to Liam by the doorway and it’s probably time to let Harry guide me toward the door, too, but it’s the only thing playing on my mind.

I eye him.

“You forgot my bunny.”

Harry blinks.

“Your bunny?” He asks. “He’s right here, see? Ready for you when we go back to the hotel.”

He’s already ushering us out as he points to where the soft plushie is tucked into his bag, but I frown and shake my head, staring still.

“No- No, you forgot it today. And I didn’t have him all concert and- and that’s not fair!” I state, quite loudly.

People are looking, not just Liam and Louis and Zayn and Niall but concert security and room staff, too.

Harry frowns.

“Oh, I’m sorry, sweetheart,” Harry apologises, and he really does look sorry, and now I feel even worse. “I didn’t know you wanted him.”

“Well, I do,” I argue, stubborn.

“You should have said something, yeah?” He says. “I don’t want you to be without it, either.”

He cups my cheek, brushing his thumb over it.

“Why did you forget?” I ask.

Heat has begun to prick at my eyes.

“I don’t know, my love.” He says, “But I’ll try my very best not to forget again. Okay?”

I stare at him, breathing heavily.

“No.” I grumble.

Harry furrows his brow.

“Alright, well, Daddy’s very sorry, my love,” Harry says. “C’mon, let’s go back to the hotel. We can have a bath, and a cuddle-“

He reaches forward, to grasp for my hands, but I pull out of his reach.

“No, I don’t wanna,” I whine.

“Charlie, we can’t stay here,” Harry says, brow furrowed, “We have to go back to the hotel, yeah? Just like we always do.”

I shake my head, stepping further away. I can feel fuzz pulling at my head, and I nearly kick myself at the timing.

“It’s alright, calm down, baby,” Harry coos gently.

He draws closer, quicker than I had expected, and pulls me into his arms. And I want to relax into the warmth of them, to cry out my frustration into his chest, but I grunt and push at his body, instead.

“No, Harry, no!” I hiccup. “Let go. Let go!”

I jerk hard, hard enough to break free.

“Marley, what’s got into yeh, sweetheart?” Zayn says.

And he looks just as concerned and confused as everyone else.

I sob, rushing to shove myself into his arms. He winds his around me just as quick, rubbing my back.

I shake my head.

“C’mon, Moo, talk to me, hmm?” Zayn coaxes. He brushes my hair back.

“Boys, time to go,” Paul interrupts.

Harry tries to take me once more, but I fight and sob so hard he acquiesces, allowing Zayn to pick me up, instead.

We all ride back in the same car, my Daddy’s hand clasping my leg even as I lean into Zayn and firmly look away from him.

When we arrive at the hotel and we get up to our floor I still won’t leave his side, the three of us at a standstill in the hallway between the two of our rooms.

“Charlie, it’s time for bed. Come with Daddy, please.”

“No, I want Zayn,” I whine. “I don’t want to sleep with you, tonight, Harry.”

That gives the room pause.

And Harry looks so sad, and I can still feel anger swirling close beneath, but now there’s a pit in my stomach, and the fuzz just won’t stop getting thicker and thicker up there.

There’s nothing left to do but cry.

Zayn pulls me up into his arms, again.

There’s speaking to one another, quietly, and I can see Harry clenching a hand in his hair.

“I’m still her Daddy, Zayn,” Harry states. His eyes flash, jaw clenched.

“Yes, you are,” he agrees. “But she’s not just a baby, H. Not right now, at least.”

I sob hard into his shoulder, clutching at his shirt. I twist my fingers into his hair, overrun with tears.

“She is my baby,” Harry defends.

“Yes, she’s yours,” Zayn placates, “But right now, she’s not gonna go with you without a fight. Let’s just let her calm down a bit, yeah? I’ll bring her back as soon as she’s calm.”

“No,” I hiccup.

Zayn shushes me, rubbing my back.

Harry sighs. He draws forward, brushing a hand over my hair. I jerk out of the way, even though the faint warmth makes my chest ache.

“Daddy’ll see you soon. Alright, poppet? You be good for Uncle Zayn.”

The despair in his eyes feels like a kick to the stomach as Zayn shuts the door behind us.

***

It doesn’t feel right.

As much as I’m upset, the distance between myself and my Daddy is making me feel sick.

Even as I sit quietly and let Zayn give me a shower and redress me into a pull up and pyjamas, I still can’t get it out of my mind.

“It’s time for bed, babe.” Zayn says.

My heart jumps, even through my sleepy demeanour.

Something else is making my head go all full, all that fuzz, and I rub at my eye to abate the thickness.

“Zee?” I whisper.

“Hmm?” He hums.

And I feel so silly, it’s only been an hour, for sure, but I feel my breath pick up as he stares at me with those warm, kind, brown eyes.

“Want- Want- Harry. Please,” I croak.

Zayn looks to me quickly, brows furrowed.

“Oh, babe. S’okay, let’s go see Daddy, hmm?”

He helps me out of the bed, across the hall and down two steps to Harry’s door.
Zayn knocks for me, and I feel my cheeks flush with heat and footsteps are quick behind the door.

It’s pulled open so quick my breath catches.

“Charlie,” Harry breathes.

And I’m waiting for Harry’s face to be upset, or angry, but there’s only hope, and love, and the knowledge that he still has wanted me even after all my pushing him away sends the last little bit of fight from my system.

“M’sorry, Har-Daddy,” I hiccup. “Can I sleep with you?”

Harry’s eyes widen. He makes a quick look toward Zayn before he presses forward, scooping me close into his arms.

“My baby,” he whispers. “Of course you can. You don’t even have to ask, okay? Daddy’s always right here.”

And he sounds so warm, and comfortable, and kind, that my sparked tears have flooded down my cheeks at his words and his enclosed embrace.

He bids Zayn goodbye, closing the door behind us. He tugs me up into his arms,

“Let’s go change your nappy, hmm?”

I don’t fuss at the miss call of my pull up, merely lay where he sets me on the bed and shiver at the cool change while he cleans me up before I’m in an actual nappy and he’s gathering me into his arms again.

I don’t realise I’ve slipped my thumb into my mouth, not until he tugs gently at my wrist, quick to shush my resounding whine with a pacifier.

I suck noisily, eyes dropping. Daddy’s thumb swipes between my brow, smoothing the furrow.

He tugs me under the covers next to him and pulls me close, so close, until I’m shrouded in him and he’s rumbling a hum of a song that peters right through his chest into mine.

“Daddy.” I whisper.

I curl a hand into his shirt. I dip my head further into his chest, forehead resting against his clavicle.

Daddy’s arms are surrounding me completely, and his mouth presses gentle kisses to my forehead.

“My baby girl,” he murmurs, “Daddy missed you so much. Don’t run away from me again, darling. You’ll break Daddy’s heart all over again.”

I sniff, rubbing my face into his chest.

He pulls me close, mouth grazing my forehead.

“We’ll talk in the morning. Properly, okay?” He promises. “For now, let’s just sleep. Sound good?”

It does. It does sound good.

Chapter Text

Everything’s hard, when you’re little.

You have to do everything that everyone else says.

Especially your Papa, but also Uncle Harry, and Uncle Zayn, and Uncle Liam, and lots of other mummies and daddies that you see.

But most especially your Papa.

You have to eat when he gives you food, and not make faces at the mushrooms in the pasta because that’s not kind to Auntie Sarah who put in a lot of effort to make the meal.

And you have to go to bed when Papa puts you to bed, even if you’re very definitely not tired and don’t really want a bottle and just must must must have three more books before the lights go click.

And you definitely have to have your pull up changed when it gets wet, because if you don’t you’ll get a rash and that hurts, even though it’s not really so bad if Papa doesn’t change it straight away because you’re busy making a train track.

There are lots of things you have to do when you’re little, and some of them don’t make sense, and that can be extra hard because Louis is sure he can remember a time he wasn’t being told what to do, because he hasn’t always been so little, and he’s sure it wasn’t even that long ago, either.

And when it makes his tummy feel so swirly that he goes quiet, that’s when his Papa will pull him into his lap and coax out the worries. He’ll kiss his head and tell him not to ponder about it, to give the worries to Daddy and he’ll cuddle them all away, until all he can remember to do is sit right where he is, being loved on and happy.

And so, when his Papa announced that it was going to be so warm tomorrow that they’d be heading down to the beach for a few days, and they’d go straight to have a play and a picnic with Uncle Harry and Uncle Zayn and Uncle Liam and even their baby Niall, too, Louis could hardly believe it.

He was so excited, he’d helped his Daddy pack by making sure he had his lamb and his jaguar and his penguin and most definitely his green bunny, and also his legos and his chalk and his brand new Thomas Train from Uncle Harry. It didn’t really all fit in his bag but his Papa just smiled and told him he’d sort it, that it was time to listen now and go to bed like a good boy.

And Louis wants to be good so they can go to the beach so he lets his Papa put him to bed, even though maybe he was a little too excited to sleep last night, so by the time he does fall asleep and then wakes up, he hasn’t really rested very long at all.

His Papa is a little surprised to hear him call for him in the morning, as opposed to coming to wake him like normal. He finds him bouncing on his cot mattress and exclaiming, “Beach! We’re going to the beach!” as his Papa had walked through the door.

Needless to say, it’s still early in the morning when he starts to feel tired, again.

They’re driving up together. Paul has their things in the car behind, to take them to the beach house and get their things sorted so they can go straight to enjoy the sand and the sun. Uncle Liam and Uncle Zayn are going up in their car with Niall, and Uncle Harry is coming with him and Papa. That’s what’s been normal, for a while, now. Uncle Harry is Papa’s best friend, after all.

Papa’s been driving forever (thirty minutes, said his Papa), and they still have forever to go (forty-five more minutes, said Uncle Harry) and Louis is bored, so bored, but not tired at all, not even when they hit the freeway and the road is smooth and the trees rush by and the motion is rocking him slowly, slowly…

He leans his head against the head rest, watching his Papa pick up Uncle Harry’s hand where it rests on the centre concise and thumb at his new rings.

“…yeah, it’s their new collection, I was thinking about the gold, but…”

Uncle Harry is smiling at his Papa, eyes gazing fervently. He does that a lot, but his Papa does it back, with red cheeks too, so they’re kind of matching. See? Best friends.

“Papa, are we there, yet?” Louis interrupts.

“Soon, my love,” Papa says.

Louis groans.

He looks out the window again, more trees just the same. He shoves his index and middle finger into his mouth, sucking.

He jerks at the hand grasping his, turning to find Uncle Harry reaching over the centre console to pull his fingers from between his lips and replace them with his pacifier.

Uncle Harry smiles, thumbing his cheek, the digit bumping under Louis’ sucking motions.

“Wanna close your eyes, lovie?” Uncle Harry asks.

“Beach!” Louis insists, growl muffled, because he’s not allowed to take the pacifier out once a grown up has put it in. Well, not really, not unless he really really needs to, but he doesn’t think his Papa will believe he needed to throw up like when he was sick because his tummy doesn’t feel like anything needs to come out. So it’s a bit hard to pretend with that one.

“Excuse me, Louis William, do we make those noises at our very nice Uncle Harry? Who loves us very much?”

And his Papa’s eyes are all stern in the mirror, but his voice is teasing. Uncle Harry’s mouth is tilting up and he’s looking at his Papa as much as he is Louis, so Louis just huffs and looks back out the window with his arms crossed.

They’re too much of a team, sometimes.

It really is nearly time to be at the beach, finally, as they slow their drive into a little town with quaint little shops all one storey high and spaced apart, a little play park and finally, finally, the beach.

And yes, Louis screeches when he sees the golden sand and the shiny water and the crash of the waves under the clear blue sky.

He’s so giddy he can’t sit still, kicking with excitement as Uncle Harry comes to unbuckle him from his seat.

Uncle Liam has parked and Uncle Zayn is getting stuff out of the back of their car when his Papa starts getting his swimmers on. He settles a broadbrimmed hat over his head as Louis waves at Niall through the window, who turns away quite quickly.

Papa’s applying cream to his nose when he crouches down and reminds him that while it is exciting that Niall’s here, he’s not so ready to play like he is, just yet, so Papa’s told him to be gentle and not to throw a fit if he says he doesn’t want to join in.

He’s finally ready to go. The beach is calling his name!

Papa holds him still, a moment, cupping his face and tilting his jaw a little.

“You do look a bit tired, my love,” Papa comments.

“Not tired!” Louis insists.

He wrenches free of his Papa’s grip.

“Papa, swim! Come, swim!”

And Papa just chuckles as Louis grabs his hand and starts yanking him toward the water.

The expanse of sand is golden and wide, going on as far as his eye can see, and Louis runs and runs until he starts to get puffed. He slows as he hits the waves, cold splashing around his and his Papa’s toes, the water much further away than it seems when he draws it.

“It’s low tide, right now,” Papa explains.

Louis nods, serious, sure that “lowtie” probably needs to be fixed up a bit.

His Papa takes him into the water, only up to his knees to start, splashing and running around in the water that makes him too slow.

Uncle Harry reaches them after a very short amount of time, Louis squealing as he splashes him and gets him properly wet. His Papa says he’s not so pleased, but he’s all grins, too.

Uncle Harry takes him out to the deep water, standing so the water comes up to his chest and Louis is cradled on his hip. The water is so so deep here and Louis would feel scared but his Uncle Harry is so strong and makes him feel so safe and says, “I’ve got you, boo. Not gonna let you fall. Not ever.”

They go under the water two whole separate times, both their hair stuck to their heads and making Louis giggle. But then the salt gets in his eyes even though he squeezed them shut just like he was supposed to, and he can’t get it out no matter how much he rubs at it so he’s happy to say goodbye to the deep water for the minute and go back to the shallow with his Papa.

Uncle Zayn has brought down his towel and is ready to wrap him up in it, but Papa just helps Louis to dry off his face before he’s back to playing.

He spies a sandcastle someone else had started building and a big pile of rocks near the stairs down to the beach and a big cliff face all the way down the other end of the beach and even a little crab which he crouches down to watch. All the while, his Papa is holding his hand, all the way until they reach back to their little set up at the top. Uncle Liam is waiting with Niall, and as Louis turns he can spy Uncle Zayn coming up the sand hill behind them.

“M’gonna go for a swim, alright, babe?” Liam announces.

Zayn smiles, leaning into Liam’s kiss, before the man is off and Zayn is taking his place next to Niall.

Papa passes him his water, which he gulps down while Papa rummages around in his bag. He gasps as he pulls out a netted bag, his beach toys ready to go.

He scrambles up, sand spraying.

“Ni, you wanna build a castle with me?”

Niall stares at him, wide eyed. After a quick glance at Zayn and an encouraging smile, Niall nods, following suit.

“Not too far, Lou!” Papa calls. “Where are you going?”

“I need the wet sand, Papa,” Louis explains.

“Alright. But make sure I can see you, munchkin.”

Louis acquiesces, sitting as close to the dry sand as he can while also getting the wet stuff.

They settle down, starting to dig. He expects Niall to talk to him, because they used to do that, he’s sure. Except Niall is so quiet, just watching Louis and following along with what he does.

He casts a glance back towards his Daddies, every now and then, where they sit with his Papa and Uncle Harry. It makes his smile fall a bit every time he turns back, but then he starts to build again, and Louis sees it shine through.

A smile starts to settle on his face every so often, and when a big rock makes their middle tower fall down and Louis properly frowns at it, exclaiming “oh, no!” And trying to grab for it, Louis hears Niall laugh. Properly laugh, so loud he sees his Uncle Zayn turn around and watch, and his Uncle Liam, too.

They’ve just made three parts of the castle when the Daddies call out for snack time. It’s a good thing, too. Louis had been needing a change.

By the time they’ve both been changed and they’re sitting together, Niall with very flushed cheeks, and they’re having their morning snack, the heat is beginning to wear on him, and he leans a little closer into Uncle Harry’s side.

He chews languidly on his watermelon, sucking the juice from the triangle. Papa always cuts it like this, now, after he complained that he couldn’t eat the squares because they didn’t have a handle.

He doesn’t realise he’s growing drowsy, not until the caress of his Uncle Harry’s hand over his cheek makes him jerk. The man glides his fingers through Louis’ damp hair, sweeping it across and out of his eyes.

“You a bit tired, Lou bear?”

Louis sits up, shaking his head a little too fast.

He throws the rind into the lunchbox in front of him, sucking the juice from one hand and wiping the other on his board shorts.

“Not your shorts, Lou, that’s yucky. C’mere,” Papa says.

He takes a baby wipe, first cleaning off his mouth and making Louis squirm away from the damp cloth.

“Let Papa clean you, please,” Papa says.

Louis tries again to get away, this time with a whine and his face ending up in Uncle Harry’s armpit.

“Papa, stop!” Louis whines.

Papa manages to clean up the half of the juice on his face that he hadn’t smeared all over his Uncle’s skin, tutting under his breath.

“Lou, don’t be silly, it’s just a wipe.”

He follows with his hands, cleaning the tips of his fingers and the fabric of his watermelon smeared shorts, and finally the now-exposed dirtied half of his face.

“Oh, did he get it on you?” Papa asks Harry.

Louis jerks around to find his Uncle Harry peering at his stained skin.

“Yeah, but it’s alright,” Harry shrugs.

Uncle Harry sits him up, a little, grabbing a wipe and cleaning the juice off his chest.

He’s eyeing Louis with a gentle smile.

“S’really alright, Lou bear, it’s just a little juice, hmm?”

But now Louis’ cheeks burn, and he scooches away from his Uncle with a frown.

He scrunches his eyes closed, rubbing a hand over one as he turns back to look at the sea.

“Alright. Half an hour and then I think we’ll go back to the house,” Papa announces.

“Not go back!” Louis argues, appalled.

“Not yet, sweetheart,” Nick soothes, “But soon. You gonna listen to Papa when he says it’s time to go?”

Louis nods, jumping up to rush over to his castle once more.

This time Niall doesn’t join him, instead heading down toward the water holding each of his Daddies’ hands. Louis watches them go, the three of them getting smaller and smaller as they hit the water. At one point Uncle Zayn and Uncle Liam lift Niall up, swinging him between them, and Louis can hear him laughing as the water sprays up from his feet as he goes.

Louis turns back, finding his Papa and Uncle Harry right next to each other. They’re sitting so close, tucked right under the red and white striped umbrella, their legs tied up together as they’re splayed out on the picnic rug. They’re looking right at one another, sunglass-covered faces tilted close and smothered in smiles. Soon as they’ve turned away they’ve turned back to him, his Papa offering him a call of “Hey, Lou!” And his Uncle Harry lifting his hand in a wave.

He doesn’t respond, turning back to the sea. The waves crash so smoothly, little trickles crawling up to meet him just a little bit away. The foamy bubbles pop on the sand, getting smaller and smaller, until they’re washed away and more are replaced by the next one. Louis leans down on his side, head rested on his arm as he fiddles with the edge of his sandcastle and watches the waves come in and out. Over they go, the waves, the gentle, petering waves, washing in, and out, in, and out…

“You havin’ a nap, mister?”

Uncle Harry’s voice makes him jump. He jerks up, sitting cross legged in front of his work.

“No, my sandcastle,” Louis says.

“Wow, Lou! That looks great!” Uncle Harry cheeks.

Uncle Harry crouches down beside him, peering into the castle and absently brushing off the sand from his face.

Louis grins, puffing out his chest with pride.

“I did it myself,” he says, “Niall helped a bit, but- but I did it,” he explains.

“Well, it looks lovely, little Prince,” Uncle Harry confirms. “I can see how much thought you put into it.”

For someone who’s not his Daddy, Uncle Harry sure feels like it, sometimes.

He’s still flushed when his Papa arrives, too, phone in hand and snapping a picture. It’s then Uncle Harry pulls him into his lap, making Louis giggle and grin just the same as Harry.

“Papa, look- my castle!” Louis says.

He grins wide, gesturing toward the intricate sand creation.

“It’s beautiful, Louis!” Papa compliments, tucking his phone away. “Look at all the rooms, and the rocks you’ve put, and- is that a moat?”

He leans down, squinting like he’s really looking and not just saying it. It makes Louis puff up with pride, nodding furiously, and if he gets anymore he might just float away.

Papa sits back on his knees, hands rested on his thighs.

“Hopefully it will be here when we come back tomorrow.”

Louis frowns.

“Come back?” He asks.

“Yes, Lou bear,” Papa assures, “We’ll come back tomorrow. It’s time to go, now. Time for a nap.”

Papa stands, holding out a hand and flicking it towards himself.

“Papa, my castle.” Louis complains.

“Yes, you’ve built a lovely castle, and now we’re all finished, for today,” Papa explains.

But they only just got here!

“No! Not finished!” Louis whines.

He clenches his yaw against a yawn building up.

“How lucky that we’ve had a lovely swim,” Papa continues, “and had some yummy snack, and now we’re all done being in the sun for now,” Papa announces.

“No, Papa!” Louis argues.

Uncle Harry tries to lift him up into his arms, where he’s sitting in his lap, but he wrenches free, throwing himself back down or the sand. And it hurts a little, because the wet sand is also hard sand and the pull up can only soften the bump so much.

His Uncle Harry crouches back down, laying a hand on his knee.

“Lou, we’re gonna come back tomorrow,” Uncle Harry soothes, voice all coaxing and nice.

Even Uncle Harry can’t make it better. The words only make a sheen cover his eyes, anyway. Uncle Harry had a knack for saying things in just the right way to make him feel like that, especially when he was looking at him like he was now; all big, soft green eyes and slightly pursed mouth and the sympathetic tilt of his head.

He smacks his foot down, the slight wetness splashing out underneath it. He tries to keep up the fights but he feels all hot, and if he could think about it, the yelling is making his head hurt and all he really wants is a cuddle from his Papa, and Uncle Harry, but if he gets a cuddle they’ll just carry him away.

“I don’t wanna go!”

He scrunches up his face, crossing his arms over his chest and smacking his foot against the sand with a solid whack once more.

“I understand that, little man, but it’s still time to go,” Papa declares. “It’s getting too hot; Uncle Liam and Zayn are taking Niall back for a nap, too.”

Sure enough, from his vantage point, Louis can see Niall walking along the sea shore, making slow footprints in the damp sand, his Daddy’s hand in his.

It really is time to go.

He scratches a hand over his tummy, heat filling his drooping eyes.

“But- But- It’s not fair, Papa!” Louis sobs.

He throws himself down on the damp sand, kicking his legs out and smacking his hands down with a scream.

It’s quick to bleed into a cry, chest shaking as he sobs into his hands.

“Wanna stay… beach,” he hiccups.

His Papa doesn’t say anything, only lifts him from the sand. He pulls him into his arms, cradling the boy close as he carries him back away from the water. He pats his back, gently, rhythmically, shushing him gently.

“I know. I know. It’s okay, darling, I know you want to stay,” Papa soothes, “My tired baby boy.”

“Beach,” Louis hiccups.

He follows the crash of waves as he’s walked away from them. His sandcastle slowly gets smaller, and his tears dribble down his sun warmed face. His Papa’s arms are so strong around him, and when he turns his face into his Papa’s neck the comforting smell of his Papa and the salt and the sea makes his eyes just that much more droopy.

He spies Uncle Harry walking just behind, peering at Louis and smiling gently like he always does.

Uncle Harry proffers a pacifier, and Louis wastes no time in opening his mouth for it.

“Good boy, Lou. You’re such a good boy.”

Uncle Harry’s words repeat in his mind as the man rubs a hand over his head as his eyes droop properly shut, the repetitive sucking of his pacifier and the up and down motion of his Papa walking pulling him into the very much not needed, not important because he was very much not tired, midday sleep.

Chapter Text

Parin

“-rin? Parin?”

The hand brushing over my face registers at the same time the words do.

Louis is standing outside my crib, a hand thrust through the bars to caress my hair.

“You awake, baby Parin?” Louis whispers.

I squint, grumbling.

Louis grins, jumping in an oddly quiet way.

“It’s Christmas!” Louis cheers. “We gotta- gotta go to Daddy, Daddy n’Papa bed,” Louis decides.

“Daddy?” I mumble.

I push myself up, yawning and rubbing at an eye. I shift where I sit, the dampness in my nappy registering and making me grumble.

“Yeah, let’s go! C’mon, Louis help you get out,” Louis says.

And he does try. He does. He can’t the lock unlatched, but he’s sure if I can just get myself over the crib side he can help me down to the floor.

It’s wobbly to stand, now, and with half a minute of wake time and my bunny cradled under one arm I try to lift myself over the bars.

Its only a moment before my foot slips on the bar, making me drop my bunny and fall flat on my backside.

The bed cushions my fall- if you could call it that- but the impact jolts through my body.

I let out a whimper. I can feel everything, the wetness filling my nappy more prominent again. Exhaustion creeps up again, my chest heaving as my breath picks up quicker.

I lift a hand to my eye, rubbing harshly as a shuddered yawn brings the tears.

“You okay, baby Parin?” Louis asks.

He pushes a hand through the bars, stretching his palm to rub at my ankle sweetly.

I let out a whine behind my pacifier, grinding down on the plastic nib.

“Daddy,” I croak.

“It’s okay, Parin,” Louis tries.

I shake my head, cries falling from my lips louder now.

“Daddy,” I sob, thick with a whine, “Dah-addy!”

The footsteps reverberating through the hallway don’t register, not until the tall figure they’re attached to is standing in the doorway.

“Louis Grimshaw-Styles, did you wake your sister?” Papa asks in a whispered rush.

Louis jerks his hand from the bars in my crib, whirling to face where the sound had come from.

“I- I-“ Louis starts.

“Papa,” I sob.

“Oh, princess,” Papa coos.

He crosses the threshold quickly, flicking the locks on the crib side to let it drop.

“D’yeh wake up, did yeh?” He coos.

Papa pulls me out in haste, letting me wrap my limbs around him. He presses a firm hand to the back of my neck, encouraging my face to his shoulder.

I sob into his neck, breathing haphazardly around my thumb. He shushes me carefully, rocking us back and forth.

“Lou, back to bed, please,” Papa murmurs.

“But- Papa, Christmas!” Louis exclaims.

Papa sighs.

“Darlin’, it’s not Christmas for a couple more days. And what have Papa and Daddy told you about trying to get the baby out of her cot?” Nick scolds.

“But- but-“ Louis stutters.

“Papa,” I hiccup.

“Shh,” Papa murmurs.

He hushes my cries, rubbing circles into my back.

“Louis, back to bed,” Papa murmurs. “We‘ll talk about this in the morning.”

“Papa, no!” Louis whines.

His foot collides with the hardwood floor, a huff leaving his mouth.

“What’s all this?” A new voice pipes up.

Daddy is standing in the doorway, a yawn on his mouth, one hand rubbing at his eye and pyjama pants slung low on his hips.

“Daddy,” I hiccup.

I reach for him, the fluffy haired man quick to pass the threshold and take me into his arms.

I snuggle down into his familiar embrace, breathing in his scent.

“Thanks, H,” Papa says.

“I’m gonna take the baby to our bed, you do him,” Daddy decides.

“She needs a change,” Papa adds.

Daddy hums out an acknowledgement, pressing a dummy between my lips again.
Daddy walks close enough to give Louis a kiss on the head and grab my bunny from my crib before we turn and exit the room.

“See yeh in a minute,” Papa calls.

Papa’s matter of fact voice and Louis’ responding whine peters out as we draw closer to Daddy’s bedroom.

“Did yeh brother wake y’up?” Daddy asks.

His sleepy grumble vibrates through my chest.

I don’t reply, the lull of sleep curling over my mind as my Daddy holds me close.

He lays me down, the cool fabric of the changing table mattress making me whine.

“Shh, S’okay, let’s just change you quick, my love,” Daddy soothes.

I fidget, blurry eyed, head tossing and hands pressed to my eyes.

Daddy’s quick with changes, much quicker than Papa, that’s for sure, and no sooner had the tears begun to drip was I being pulled back up into his arms once more.

“There we go, there we go, all done,” He coos, cuddling me close.

“Daddy,” I hiccup.

“There we are,” Daddy coos, rubbing ny back, “S’alright. Time for bed, bubby.”

He walks us back over to his bed, settling me down under the covers. He presses my bunny into my arms, and he’s barely turned out the lamp before I’ve nodded back off.

***

Light filtering in through the curtains rouses me.

I don’t think the sun’s been up long, but I don’t feel tired. I stretch out long, frowning as my arms bump something soft.

A glance up finds the headboard to my Daddy and Papa’s bed.

I spy Daddy sleeping beside me, face calm in sleep and lips parted around a soft snore.

I turn over until I’m facing the window, hoping to find Papa to see if he is awake, but only come face to face with Louis’ sleeping form.

The movement makes me aware of my very much full nappy. I shuffle under the thick duvet, attempting to wriggle away from the wet material. My movements only press it closer to my body, and I let out a huff.

“Are you watching the sun wake up, precious girl?”

I startle at the new voice.

Papa is standing at the foot of the bed, watching with a soft smile.

I reach out a hand, sucking on the pacifier in my mouth.

Papa grins, shuffling onto his knees at the end of the bed.

“C’mere, sweetheart,” Papa says, manoeuvring me out of the covers and scooping me up, “Let’s get you changed!”

I wind my arms around his neck as he leaves the room, watching Louis shuffle closer under Daddy’s curling arm as the door closes softly behind them.

He takes us into mine and Louis’ room, quick to lay me down on the change table.

I don’t fuss, laying still as Papa starts to unbutton my onesie.

“Did you have a good sleep, lovie?” He asks.

I nod, shortly, watching as he smiles.

I’m not expected to reply, not really; not when I’m as little as they want me to be. And it really is nice, if I think about it; only having to speak when I have something I really want to say. So when I do, it’s all grins and happy smiles, and that just makes it work all round.

Papa makes as quick work of my nappy as he can, taking a little longer to make sure there’s enough cream and powder on my skin, which does make me fuss. Papa just shushes me, soothing me with comforting words until I’m no longer tense and he’s taped the nappy right around my hips.

He doesn’t dress me for the day, quite yet, seeming to wait until the mess of the morning meal was over and I’d stay relatively clean in a new set of clothes. So it’s back in my onesie when I’m pulled up from the change table with a kiss to my cheek and we’re out of the room.

Papa carries me downstairs, standing us in front of the sliding glass door in the living room, curtains swung open to the outside.

He sways, gently, chest rising and falling and his head leaning gently on top of mine.

“Nice today, isn’t it?” He says.

The sun has almost peeked above the skyline, golden rays petering out over the horizon. It lights up the backyard, glinting off the pool water and raining flecks across my eyes.

“Red sky in morning, shepherd’s warning. Red sky at night, shepherd’s delight. Or something like that,” Papa murmurs. “And it was so red last night, wasn’t it? Now look at it; so bright and clear. Not many clouds, either. Do you know what they’re called?”

My gaze flicks to the direction of his pointer finger, brow furrowing at the short little puffs.

I turn to face Papa, tilting my head.

Papa smiles, a big old thing, and he presses a kiss to my temple.

“Me neither,” he laughs. “Daddy’d know, wouldn’t he? So funny how he knows about clouds like that.”

“Daddy,” I agree.

I pat Papa’s bare chest, leaning my head back down on his shoulder.

“Such a good girl,” Papa murmurs. “Come on, let’s go make breakfast.”

He kisses my head again, turning from the window and padding into the kitchen.

Papa settles me down in the high chair attached to the kitchen island. He opens the fridge, ducking in and back out, to press a bottle full of water between my lips.

I take hold of it, drinking slowly and puffing out breath every few gulps.

Papa smiles, hand cupping my cheek and thumbing over the flushed skin.

He turns on the radio, calm music petering through.

He starts up on the pancakes, I can see, batter pouring and flipping every so often. He washes and starts to cut up fruit, which he offers me cut up pieces of with each different fruit he handles.

I’m especially fond of the strawberries, whining a little when he doesn’t give me any more.

Papa’s smile is so big, though, that I feel he’d keep them away just to have me do it again.

He potters around the kitchen, flicking on the kettle and pulling out the coffee and my milk bottle and Louis’ Spider-Man utensils.

And when he’s finally plated the food and he sets it on a tray, he lifts me out of my seat and back onto his hip.

“Let’s go see Daddy, yeah?”

I hum, nodding, sucking the lingering strawberry juice from my fingertips.

“Daddy.”

***

Nick

It’s still quiet when they enter the bedroom, again. Nick sets Harry’s mug atop the bedside table, watching the man snoozing.

His lashes brush the tops of his cheeks, mouth parted slightly. His arms are wound comfortable around their little boy, Louis’ head curled up on Harry’s bare chest.

“Daddy,” Parin whispers.

She wriggles in his arms.

She’s not often too vocal with him, yet every day draws out more of the girl Harry gushes about. When he sees it as he does, now, it builds that warmth that sits deep inside him.

Nick smiles, setting the baby on his hip onto the bed next to her Daddy.

Harry rouses at the movement, head tilting up and eyes squinting.

“Whassit-?” He grunts.

He stretches out, his right arm brushing the baby’s stomach as he starts to roll back. Harry stops, facing the girl with a grin on his face.

“Well, good morning,” He rumbles.

He winds an arm around the girl, pulling her close to his side.

Louis shifts with the movement, rolling away from his Daddy and curling himself into Nick’s pillow.

“Daddy,” Parin mumbles.

“When did you get up, uh?” Harry rumbles.

“Long enough to watch the sun come up,” Nick answers. “Was beautiful, this morning.”

Harry meets his eye, rubbing at one.

“You should’ve woken me,” Harry grumbles.

He stretches out languidly, legs shaking under the duvet. He sits up, pulling the girl under his arm and covering her with the duvet.

His green eyes shine despite the bags weighing down their underside, and Nick feels his heart lurch in his chest as he spies the butterfly flutter under Harry’s tummy-deep breath.

“You needed your sleep, bub,” Nick reasons. “Made you coffee.”

Harry hums, glancing at the mug.

“Ah, my saviour,” he mumbles, humming as he pulls the mug to his lips and takes a sip.

“When’d Lou get in?” Harry asks.

“Oh, I didn’t even get him back to bed,” Nick shrugs. “But the two of you were already asleep when we came in like ten minutes later, so.”

Harry huffs out a laugh, setting his mug back down. He lays a hand on the boy’s hip, rubbing his thumb over the skin.

“So, you comin’ back to bed, or am I solo parenting today?”

Nick grins.

“You can hold down the fort for a minute, can’t you?” He teases. “Gotta grab my coffee from the kitchen.”

He nods toward the door.

“Say, ‘Papa, hurry back, or I’m gonna start cryin’.” Harry coaxes Parin.

The girl flushes, hiding her face into her Daddy’s chest.

Nick grins. He leans down, pressing a kiss to the girl’s hair. Close enough, now, his eyes dart between Harry’s for a second before he presses a kiss to his lips, too.

Harry is sufficiently flushed by the time he pulls away, this kiss thoroughly chaste yet enough to have his heart racing.

“Be right back,” he whispers, face still inches from Harry’s.

“We’ll be waiting,” Harry mumbles.

Nick grins, drawing backward on slow steps.

“Oh, and can you grab a bottle for P? She’s gotta be gettin’ hungry.” Harry adds.

“Nah, hadn’t planned on doin’ that, already,” Nick jokes.

“Oh, right. I’m telling y’mum you left us!” Harry calls.

Nick stops, hand on the doorframe. He smiles, but quirks a brow.

“Haz, if I ever do that, you better call her. And the mental hospital. Because I’d have to be full on crazy to leave this family of ours.”

Harry flushes, the smile on his face pulling at his cheeks

“See ya,” Nick grins, finally ducking out of the room.

When he returns, it’s slowly, arms full of the massive tray and fragile porcelain.

He backs up into the door, edging it open with his shoulder.

The sight he’s met with has his heart tightening in his chest.

Harry’s got Parin sitting in his lap, hands atop her hips and the duvet flush around them.

He’s speaking to her, quietly, and as he rounds the bed to place the tray on their moveable bed table, he can see the girl smiling.

“…and then we can plant the carrots. See? It all works together.”

Parin’s nodding, and as she catches Nick’s figure she jerks her head toward him. Her cheeks flush, quickly, but her smile stays as she takes him in.

“Oh, Nick, you didn’t have to,” Harry says, taken aback.

His mouth is parted, slightly, as he takes in the tray full of food, and he looks as though he might melt into the bed.

“Course I didn’t. Wanted to.” Nick shrugs.

“Thank you, baby,” Harry murmurs.

He tugs him down, Nick’s hands planting firm into the mattress as Harry smacks another kiss onto his mouth. Nick very nearly missed Louis, the boy’s body still very much snoozing under Nick’s leaning body.

He shifts with the sudden movement, however, grumbling in his throat. He turns, quick as a whippet, stretching out and catching Nick’s eyes.

“Well, good afternoon, little man,” Nick laughs.

“Papa,” Louis croaks, “I’m awake.”

Nick grins.

“You are, Lou boo.”

Louis yawns, blinking hard as he turns to Harry and Parin beside him.

“Daddy, do we all have sleepy in your bed?”

Harry grins.

“We sure did. Like a big cuddle pile, hey?”

Louis smiles. “Yeah. Cuggle pile,” he garbles.

He scratches the side of his face. He shifts, frowning.

“I have to do wee wee.”

“Go on, then.” Harry chuckles, “You know where your potty is.”

“But- I already did wees, too,” Louis adds.

Nick smiles, brushing the messy hair out of his boy’s eyes.

“Cmon, Lou, let’s go change your pull up,” Nick says.

“Okay, Papa,” Louis answers, raising his arms.

Nick coos, lifting the boy easily on his hip.
He wasn’t lying; the material is so full it squishes where he sits on his side.

Louis cuddles right into him, rubbing his face into his shoulder.

“So sweet this morning, my angel,” Papa says.

“So sweet, angel,” Louis cheers for himself.

Nick laughs, cupping the boy’s face and leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead.

And once they’re all cleaned up and back in bed, and Harry has his breakfast and Nick has his and the two of them are feeding their babies, Nick sighs.

This is the life.

It’s a good five minutes of contented eating when Harry pipes up.

“How’d you know? Last night?”

Louis has taken it upon himself to stab at his pancakes, the fork the wrong way up and the pancake sliding down the handle.

Nick furrows his brow.

“Know what?” He asks.

Louis brings the pancake to his mouth, the fork twisted sideways. He chews it off successfully, humming as the maple syrup dribbles down his fingers.

They needed to wash their sheets, anyway.

“How’d you know he woke her up?” Harry asks, low, intrigued.

Nick grins knowingly. He leans back, as far out of Louis’ earshot as he can get.

“He’ll always come get us, if she’s woken by herself. Comes toddlin’ down the hall, shakin’ me awake, all worried ‘bout his little sister. If it’s his fault, well…”

He turns to the babies, fondness licking at his expression.

“You saw how last night played out. Well, this morning, really,” Nick shrugs.

Harry snorts, throwing back his last piece of pancake.

Nick watches his partner, contentment drizzled across his gaze as he leans forward to smack a kiss to Harry’s chewing mouth.

Little Parin is halfway through her bottle, taking sporadic gulps of the honeyed formula in between bites of the pancakes. The babes don’t get sugary breakfast like this very often, so Nick is pleased it’s going down a treat for them both.

The two of them look so sweet, side by side, hair mussed and faces sleepy, that once Nick has finished his plate he gets up out of bed.

He pulls out his phone, flicking it over to the camera.

Harry smiles, pulling the fork away from Parin’s latest bite.

“Here y’are,” Harry murmurs.

He lifts her hands in his own, placing them around the bottle.

She suckles at the nipple, warm honeyed milk seeping through to her mouth. She hums at the flavour, giving her Daddy a smile.

As she drinks, she lets out little snuffles of air as she swallows between them.

“God, that’s so darling,” Daddy says, voice full of love. He tucks a kiss behind her ear, the ticklish press of his unshaven face bringing a giggle to her lips.

“Parin. Parin!” Papa calls.

“Look at Papa, baby,” Daddy coos.

She blinks slow, turning to face the lanky man who is honestly too excited for a morning.

The shutter on his phone camera clicks, causing a furrow to form between her brows.

“Harry…” Nick murmurs.

Parin’s brow furrow. Harry turns to him, gaze expectant.

“We have the cutest babies ever!” Nick gushes.

He flips the camera around, showing his partner the images. Harry near melts, pulling the little girl closer to him.

“You gon’ eat your breakfast?” Louis asks.

The girl blinks at him, mouth parted around the bottle.

Louis picks up a small square of pancake, lifting it to her mouth.

She takes in the sugary breakfast, humming with a smile.

“Sticky,” Louis says.

He pulls his hand to his own mouth, pushing two fingers coated in syrup between his lips.

“Lou, that was very sweet of you,” Harry praises.

Louis grins around the fingers in his mouth, humming in reply.

It isn’t long before the plates are being cleared away onto the rolling table to be cleaned at a later time.

Louis has jumped out of bed, mentioning with a little squirm that he needs to go wee.

Nick takes him, coming back to find Harry with his fingers pulling aside the leg of Parin’s nappy.

“Time for a change, too, bubby,” he says.

Her face is slightly pink, the colour darkening as she spies her Papa and brother enter the room as well.

Harry’s just kneeling off the bed to gather materials from under the changing table when Louis pipes up.

“Daddy, I can help change the baby?” Louis asks.

Nick and Harry share a look.

Nick shrugs.

Harry smiles.

“Alright, Lou-boo,” Harry agrees.

“Daddy’ll do all the cleanin’ though, a’right? And y’gotta make sure you listen very carefully.”

“I promise, Daddy,” Louis chirps.

“Such a good boy,” Harry hums, pressing a kiss to Louis’ cheek.

Harry lays the girl down flat in the middle of the bed, her head propped on a pillow in Nick’s lap. She’s sufficiently red, her nappy open and Harry cleaning off all her bare skin, but she has a pacifier in her mouth and her bunny tucked up under her arm, so she’s not too unsettled. Nick brushes her hair out of her eyes, murmuring gently to her about their prospective day and soothing her with his tone.

By that point Harry’s already drug away the dirty materials, balling them up and tucking them away in a nappy bag. He pushes a fresh one under the girl’s hips, manoeuvring it into place.

Louis helps shake powder over her, which makes both her and Harry sneeze. She tucks her face away into Nick’s thigh, but he just shushes her, cooing and telling her how brave she is.

“And then, we just pull this bit up the front,” Daddy explains.

He grasps the front of the nappy, pulling it up to her abdomen.

She lifts two fingers to her mouth, sucking.

Nick tuts, reaching down to pull them out so he can press the pacifier in instead.

She reaches a hand out to him, Nick grasping it in his and pressing a raspberry kiss to her palm to make her giggle.

“Now we need to tape the sides up. Do you think you can be my big helper again?”

“Yea, Daddy!” Louis says.

Harry pulls at the tab, ripping it open to leave it splayed open.

“Now, hold onto this, Lou- yep, that’s it. And now, pull it up to here,” Harry instructs.

He follows Louis’ movements and uses his own hand as a guide.

The tab slips from his fingers, Louis huffing before grasping it again and pulling it over.

He presses it down over the front of the nappy, fingers pressing a little too firm into her stomach.

She grunts, even as Louis cheers for himself.

“Well done, Lou!” Nick congratulates.

He pulls Louis in for a cuddle. Harry takes the opportunity while Louis isn’t watching to refix the tab a little less tightly.

“Papa, I take care of my- my sister!” Louis cheers.

“You sure did, bug!” Nick cheers, “Such a good big brother.”

“I love you, baby,” Louis coos.

He leans down, pressing a damp kiss to her forehead.

She reaches a hand up to him, humming as she pats his cheek.

“My brave girl,” Harry coos. “Such a good girl, letting your brother help.”

He pulls the girl up into his arms, cradling her close. He presses a kiss to her temple, walking her close to the window.

“See, it’s so nice today! Little cirrus clouds, it’ll be great for planting those carrots…”

His words rumble on as he points outside and speaks to the girl.

Louis tucks himself under Nick’s arm, looking up with big, blue, pleading eyes and asking ever so darling for tv for being so helpful.

And Nick just grins, turning on Blue’s Clues and relishing in the boy’s heaviness and warmth as he rests his body weight in his Papa.

Yes, Nick thinks, this is the life.

Chapter Text

The supermarket is relatively busy, for a Sunday evening. People getting their last minute groceries for the week, Harry presumes.

There aren’t many family trips this time of night. It’s part of the reason this is when he goes; it’s a little too painful to observe, otherwise.

“Harry?”

The man swings around at the call of his name.

He doesn’t expect to see her. And yet, here she is. She’s pushing a shopping cart, a few fruits and vegetables already stacked up inside the metal carrier. Her and Mitch’s girl is sat in the cart, blue overalls tied over her white t shirt. She’s sucking on a strawberry, eyes wide as she takes in the store.

“Hey, Sarah,” Harry greets.

He tries to look a little less frozen than he feels.

“How’ve you been? Haven’t seen you in a while.” Sarah says.

Harry nods, swallowing the thickness in his throat.

“Yeah, well, y’know, work and stuff. What about you? You been well?” He converses.

Sarah smiles. She pushes the cart a little, the girl’s legs swinging back and forth.

“Eleanor just loves coming to the grocery store,” Sarah gushes. “Don’t you, Ellie babe?”

Eleanor watches her caregiver, humming contentedly around the strawberry between her lips. Even still, her gaze flashes to Harry and back, cheeks flushing.

She’s still new, the outings a recent feature that she gets quite shy when addressed.

Sarah tickles at her jaw, the babe letting out a giggle. Juice trickles from her open pout, Sarah swiping a thumb over her sticky chin.

“H?”

Harry blinks, gaze fixing back on the woman.

“Hmm?”

Heat flushes Harry’s face as Sarah laughs, clear he had lost track of the conversation.

“I was just letting you know about the dinner party Mitch and I want to organise. We were going to invite everyone in the next couple of days, but you’re here now, so….” Sarah shrugs, grinning lightheartedly.

“Oh! Right, yeah- love to- love to come,” Harry manages to stutter, “Just- send me the details, yeah?”

“Sure!” Sarah agrees, nodding with a smile. “We’ve still got a few loose ends to tie up. Everything kind of gets pushed to the side, when you’ve got a little one at home.” She shrugs, laughing.

“I can imagine!” Harry humours.

“Mama?”

Eleanor reaches out for the punnet once more.

Sarah slips a strawberry into her grasp, the girl sucking on the juicy fruit.

“Anyway, so nice to see you. Chat later, yeah?” Sarah offers.

She’s bid him goodbye, with that, asking her girl to give a wave to the man, which she does shortly before tucking her head back under her Mama’s chin.

“Yeah,” Harry whispers, voice croaking in his throat.

***

It’s quiet, later, at home.

The spaghetti bolognese he’d made himself and his mother had gone down a treat, for her, him poking at his half emptied bowl most of the evening.

Sunday nights, was their family dinner, though his sister couldn’t make it this time.

It’s when they’re sat together on the couch watching tv that his mother finally speaks up.

“Harry?” His mother calls.

He furrows his brow.

“What’s wrong, love? You’ve been quiet since you got home.”

Harry sighs. He fidgets, picking at his thumb.

He stares at the wall, a glaze fitting over his irises.

“I saw Sarah at the store,” Harry mumbles. “She had El with her.”

Anne’s eyes soften.

Harry feels his pulse pick up, heat flushing his face. He clenched his jaw, shaking his knee.

“I’m such a bad friend,” Harry admits, “Every time I see them, see Eleanor- All I can think…”

Harry cuts himself off. Shame creeps up his spine, eyeing the floor with watery vision.

“It was- it was three days,” he sighs. “Three!”

It’s quiet, a moment.

“Harry?” Anne calls.

Harry looks up, catching his mother’s sympathetic eye.

Heat wells up behind his own.
“It’s alright,” Anne murmurs. “It’s okay to be sad.”

He feels his face crumple.

Anne pulls him into her arms before he can react, tucking the boy up under her arm.

Harry shakes under the weight of his cries, an arm curled tight around his mother’s waist. She shushes him, gently, until the tears have slowed and he’s merely sniffling into her skin.

“It’ll be you, next. I can feel it, my love.” She murmurs. “If anyone deserves to be a parent, it’s you. You just wait- the perfect little one will be coming your way.”

“Perfect little girl,” Harry amends.

Anne tuts at her the petulance creeping into her son’s tone, watching him pout with the same fondness that she has since he was a babe. She pulls him close, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“Yes, sweetheart,” Anne hums, “A perfect little girl.”

Chapter Text

It’s late in the evening when the front door slams.

A stumble of footsteps, a dull thud against the wall and a giggle.

“Oh, shit,” Lucy hiccups.

She draws closer to the living room, sloppy steps and heavy breath heading over to where Harry is sitting, the standing lamp lit and glowing down above his place on the chaise.

He tilts his head toward where she stumbles through the doorframe, nearly tripping over her own feet as she slumps down on the couch. She lays on her back, head on the cushion next to Harry’s and her legs thrown over the armrest.

“Hi, Ha-rry,” Lucy hiccups.

She tilts her head back to stare up at him, a lazy grin on her face.

“Should have come, Haz,” she whines.

She stretches out her arms, palms brushing his thighs.

“You know how I feel about clubbing,” Harry grunts.

He flicks a page in his book, no longer reading.

He can only focus on the girl laying in front of him, skintight dress pulled too high up her thighs, one heel still dangling from her foot, her makeup mussed and her hair a mess.

“You’re the only one of my friends who won’t come, and you’re the only one I actually wanna go with,” Lucy whinges. “I mean, why else would we be housemates except to be mates? And mates go clubbing!”

She smacks a hand down on his thigh, exclaiming.

“Oh! There was this guy, yeah? And- and I would much rather have danced with- with you, Haz.”

Harry’s whole body goes tense.

She rubs at her eye, squinting against the smudged mascara.

“Some guy- he had his hands all over me. Fuckin- fuckin creep, yeah? Just wanted to dance, and I had to get the bloody bouncer to make him go away. F’you were there, you woulda done it, hmm? Give him a good-“

And she thrusts out her fist, punching at the air with a pout.

And she grins. She stares back up at him, a laugh puffing from her mouth.

Those eyes, so wide, so innocent.

She pokes at him, a moment, the swing from her excitement penduluming straight into exhaustion.

“You’re the best, Haz,” she mumbles, faint smile drifting. “Love that we’re friends”

Her eyes close over, hand still rested gently on his thigh.

Harry blinks. He sets his jaw. He’s got to do it. Before anything worse happens.

He lays his book down in favour of gathering the girl into his embrace.

He gently swings her up into his arms, bridal style, mindful of her capacity to upchuck at any given moment.

“Goin’ ta’ bed?” Lucy slurs.

Harry feels his chest tighten at the way her eyes slip shut, head rested against him.

“Mmhmm,” Harry assures.

He carries her down the hall, as usual, taking a left instead of a right.

He opens the door, laying the girl on his own bed.

Her body slumps easily into the duvet, her head tilting to curl up into her side.

Harry’s heart rate begins to pick up.

This is really happening.

He pulls the plastic box out from under his bed, setting it gently beside the girl.

He begins to undress her, first pulling off her obnoxiously high heel and chucking it aside. He’d be glad to be rid of those. With some effort, he manages the zip down the side of her dress, slipping the skimpy straps from her shoulders and pulling the garment down her body.

He pauses as he pulls it to her abdomen, her bare chest exposed.

She didn’t even wear a bra out.

“Haz, m’cold,” Lucy whines.

She turns into the bed, futilely tugging at the duvet underneath her.

“Sorry, Luce, nearly done,” Harry assures.

He makes quick work of tugging the dress off, pausing a moment to be thankful that she’d at least dressed in underwear before tugging those off, too.

He’s quick to duck a hand into the box, heart rate picking up as he coaxes her to lift her hips.

The backing of the nappy slides under her so smoothly, her legs falling apart so easily for him to fold the top over her hips, that he knows the universe is on his side.

He’s right. This is right.

“Harry, what is this?” She asks groggily.

She reaches down toward it, Harry quick to catch her hands gently and press them back up toward her face.

He reaches over her and grabs his water bottle from his bedside table, pressing the spout between her lips.

She takes it from him, all but skulling the water where she lays as best she can.

“Jus’ a bit of protection, hmm?” Harry assures, “Don’t wanna accidentally wet the bed, yeah?”

The girl scrunches up her nose, her head shaking back and forth. She swallows down half the bottle, chucking it off the side of the bed.

“Not gonna- wet the bed, Haz, what are you on about?” She giggles.

But still, she lies back in the bed, eyes slipping shut once more.

He tapes up the garment with shaking fingers, careful not to press it too tight and distress the girl when they were both exhausted.

He takes a moment to take her in, his first triumph sitting right in front of him.

He grasps for the one piece, next, a short sleeved zip up which he coaxes her heavy limbs into. When she wakes, he hopes the comfort will distract from the fact that she won’t be able to undo it herself- to get the clothes off, or the garment underneath, either.

And once his girl is trussed in her comfortable wares, he takes a moment to take it in, once more. This was a sight he could really get used to.

Lucky for him, he was going to get that chance.

He takes a moment to clear the makeup from her face, shushing her whines as he slowly drags a soft, damp cloth over the planes of her face. The water is warm, however, and he murmurs about his massage helping her to relax until she sits, eyes closed, laid underneath his fervent press until she’s all clean.

But she’s exhausted, and he is, too, and she’s already lying down so he doesn’t bother to try to brush her teeth, knowing she’ll be upset with him for that in the morning.

So instead he tucks the plastic box back under his bed, and he coaxes her under the covers and pulls her up onto his chest.

And as he turns off the lamp and settles down with his girl, who is breathing heavily into his bare chest, he brushes a soothing hand over her hip and relishes in the feel of the baby soft one piece and the nappy tucked gently underneath.

And he knows he probably should have brushed out her hair, too, but as he presses a kiss to the unruly strands tucked under his chin, he also knows there’ll be more pressing matters for her to be pissed with when she wakes up into her hangover.

He doesn’t much care.

He’s waited too long to take care of his little girl properly, anyway.

Chapter Text

The noise starts before we even get out of the store.

Paul is standing by the window, eyeing the crowd with his mouth parted. He turns to Harry, mouth tilted up at the side.

“Just like old times, eh, mate?” Paul grins.

Harry smiles, fondly.

Jeff takes the man’s attention, speaking with him, firmly, Paddy standing to the side with a hand pressed readily to the glass of the revolving door frame.

The flashes have begun, people clamouring close to the glass with security pressed to the sides to keep them clear. The raucous volume is muffled but so obviously there, and I feel my heart rate rise.

“-ma? Emma?”

I jump, Harry’s hand clasped over my shoulder. His expression softens as he takes mine in, rubbing his hand over my back.

“Put these on, alright? It’ll help.”

He’s barely brought the sunglasses to my line of vision before he’s gliding the arms atop my ears and resting the bridge over my nose.

“Now, it’s going to be loud, and there’s lots of people, so I know it’s going to be a bit scary. But we’ve got security cut a path through to the car,” he says.

He gestures toward where people are lined up and holding back crowds on either side of the door.

“So we’ll have a straight shot through. Easy peasy, I’ve done it a million times. Okay? You just stick with me, and everything will be alright.” Harry promises.

He smiles wide when I nod.

Paddy’s call sends Harry’s arm right behind me, guiding us to the door. His hand drops to clasp mine firmly as we follow Paddy into the revolving door, Jeff and Paul set behind us.

“Don’t let go, alright?”

I barely nod shakily before we’re out.

A flurry of flashes makes my vision swim, the click of camera lenses overlapping the shouting, calling; all of it directed at us.

“Harry! Harry, over here!”

“Harry, what’s her name?”

“Over here, darlin!”

I clench hard at Harry’s hand, breathing fast. I’m tugged along behind him, close enough his arm is brushing mine and I’m nearly stepping on his feet.

Despite the space left by the crowd, the voices seem to only be getting louder, the flashes nearer, and I can’t quite catch my breath.

Despite the calls for attention, I can make out arguments, also, young girls throwing their hands in front of lenses and shouting at the crowd, instead.

“Everyone, step back-“

“Give them some space!”

“She’s a Little, leave her alone!”

It’s all starting to swim, the cluster of people making it that much more difficult to get back to the car. I stumble over an uneven patch of ground, letting out an involuntary whimper.

I barely have time to catch myself, Harry doing it for me.

The time it takes for Harry to break formation is enough for people to swarm. They’re suddenly right there, so close I can feel them, and see hand’s on Harry’s back and arms.

Paul is breaking up connection and Paddy is inserting himself between a paparazzi and myself with a hand slammed over the lens of a camera. He shoves it away from my face, tucking me close to Harry again as the security begin to make room in the crowd. I squeeze my eyes shut, clutching hard at Harry’s shirt.

“Harry,” I whimper.

Quick as a whippet, he’s pushing his hands under my armpits before I can think. He swings me up into his arms, drawing my legs around his waist and cradling my head close into his neck.

He doesn’t speak, only barges through the flurry of cameras and paparazzi and fans while I squeeze my eyes shut.

By the time we’ve reached the car, my vision has begun to swim. The security have barely pushed the door shut behind us when Harry turns to the driver, face set and brow scorned.

“Drive,” Harry barks.

The noise outside blurs, even as the car starts up and we begin a slow exit out from the crowds. Harry cups my face, brushing strands out of my eyes.

“Are you alright, Emma?”

I breathe shallowly, swallowing thickly as I glance up at him, only to find all intensity swamped with concern.

As our eyes meet, Harry’s soften.

“Oh, poppet,” he murmurs.

I can’t help it.

The tears come, dribbling down in the beat of a choked off sob and a hiccup of bated breath.

Harry doesn’t seem phased by the fact neither of us have a seatbelt on as he pulls me into his lap, cradling me into his chest. I don’t fight as he cuddles me close, fingers scrabbling at his chest and breath catching in my throat.

“Sorry. Sorry. Sorry.” I hiccup, over and over, the words a bare whisper trickling from my shaking lips.

“No, I’m sorry,” Harry only shushes me. “That shouldn’t have happened.”

He presses me into him firm enough to ground me. His palm tracks wide, consistent circles over my shaking back, the other carded through my hair and holding reassurance into the back of my head.

I breathe in stilted stints, short and sharp pants as my vision starts to spot.

“Breathe, my love,” Harry coaxes. “Breathe with me. Feel my chest, yeah? In, one, two; out, one, two.”

His voice projects deep and calm, controlled murmurings that echo through the panic.

It’s all quieted, the rumble of the engine just petering through. It’s all shrouded in Harry, his chest as it rises and falls beneath mine, the bounce of his knee and the delicate repetition of his call, over and over, until my vision stops spotting. Even then, he continues to hum, the compression of my panic into even breathing earning a kiss to my sweated temple.

I can make out his words, now, as the panic starts to come down.

“Good girl,” Harry praises, “Doing so good, darling.”

I pull back, a little, noticing for the first time my index cradled between my teeth. I pull it from where I’d snagged it, hissing as the pain registers. I unloop my arm from Harry’s neck, eyeing the raw digit.

Harry grasps my wrist, guiding it toward him before I can pull it away. He soothes the bite with the glide of his thumb, pressing gentle kisses to the reddened skin, seemingly undeterred by the wetness I’d apparently slobbered all over it.

I yank it out of his grasp, quickly shoving it to my chest.

“It’s alright. S’okay, baby.” Harry soothes.

He returns to rubbing my back, hand still held comfortably at the back of my head.

I finally manage a deep breath, a shuddering inhale preempting an exhausted sigh.

“I’m so sorry, my love,” Harry apologises, “That should never have happened. I’m gonna make sure it doesn’t happen again. Okay?”

I nod, shakily.

I don’t even think about parting from the man, not for the rest of the drive, not even after we park and Jeff is opening the car door for us.

I’m more than happy to let Harry carry me inside, a hand rubbing gentle circles over my back as I keep my head rested on his shoulder.

And when he keeps pacing the living room, the warmth of the midday sun beaming through the window to graze our form, the gentle hum under his breath as he walks us back and forth in front of the ceiling high windows, I’m unwilling and unwanting to pull away.

Because regardless of how everything around me is starting to make me feel so unsure, and so small, there’s something about the man beneath me that seems so solid, so sure, and so very much the same, that lets me know I’m secure, at least, to rest for a little while.

I suppose he makes me feel safe.

Little or not.

Chapter Text

Emma can’t sleep.

She’s been exhausted all day. She didn’t nap well, her broken sleep cut tenfold by her attempt to climb over her guardrail.

It was looking close to transitioning her into a cot full time, but he wasn’t going to bring that up right now- not when she was already so out of sorts.

Because now she’s overtired, and exhausted, and very much can’t sleep.

It’s become a thing, the past few nights. And he’d consider it normal, that everyone struggles sometimes, except she’s only ever gone off to sleep easier, now, that she’s being treated the way she should.

But tonight she isn’t just tired.

She’s cranky.

No fault of her own, of course, and part of Harry relishes in the so blatantly baby way she can’t stop herself from scrunching up her face and whining with a barely there stomp of her foot, because Harry’s suggested ways to help that she doesn’t want, even thought she doesn’t actually know herself what she wants.

See? Baby.

And though it’s nearing ten o’clock at night, a good two and a half hours since she’d gone to bed, and Emma’s still not been able to sleep, and she’s standing in front of him with her pyjamas mussed and her bunny tucked under her arm, and one hand is rubbing at her eye while she scowls at him and shakes her head hard at his suggestion to take the sleep drink, Harry knows he can still help.

If there was one thing he knew would calm her down, it was singing.

Oh, she was so shy, when she’d first let him know. The red flush that trickled all the way from her rosy cheeks to the plane of her neck, the darting eyes and chewed up thumb.

But now, as she stands in front of him, eyes so red and glossed with that overtired sheen, Harry knows just what to do.

“C’mere,” he murmurs, “Have a cuddle, hmm?”

It’s growing more frequent, her acquiescence for comfort. Especially now, as she’s one step from falling over her own feet, just the two of them, he knows she wouldn’t say no. He meets her halfway, cutting off her reserved shuffle to scoop her up into his arms.

Emma rests her arms over his shoulders, laying her head on his shoulder and tucking her bunny close to her chest. Harry rocks her for a bit, until he can feel her grow heavier, and then he lets it slip.

“Daddy’ll sing, alright?” He murmurs.

Emma sighs, deeply, nuzzling her face closer to his neck.

“Okay,” she croaks.

“Hold me close and hold me fast, this-“

“No,” Emma whines.

She rubs her face into his neck, sniffling. He realises upon cupping the back of her head that dampness has begun to seep across his neck.

“My song. My song,” Emma wobbles.

Harry frowns, rubbing her back. She doesn’t normally fight him on what he sings, vaguely concealed embarrassment still simmering low enough to just take what she’s given.

“I don’t know what you mean, my love. I’m sorry,” Harry soothes.

She fists at his shirt, sniffling hard into his neck.

“My song. My song today,” she hiccups, “You sing it today.”

Harry pauses. He’d known she’d been listening, even as she sat on the other side of the couch to watch her movie, as he strummed chords on his guitar.

He just wasn’t aware how much.

“Okay, Daddy’ll try find it, okay?”

He starts with his most recent, the one he’d finally grasped the notes for after a good month of trying.

“You got a new life… am I botherin’ you? Do you wanna-“

“No,” she argues.

Harry breathes deep, thinking. He really hasn’t sung that many today, he didn’t think. Then again, he’s always humming under his breath.

“Do you think I’m cool too?” he starts, ”or am I-“

“No.” It’s immediate, and poetic, really. “No, my song.”

She’s growing restless, tense against him.

Harry sighs, patting her back and rocking her a little harder.

“I was tryna count up all-“

“No,” she whines, elongated, shaking her head.

She twists her fingers into the hair at his nape, near sobbing.

“Da-Harry, song!”

Harry jolts, heart lifting at the near slip.

“Okay, okay,” he soothes, fighting the smile on his face.

Harry wracks his brain, coming up all but short- there’s only one left, that he can remember; if it isn’t this, they’re in for a long night.

“I was… thinkin’ about who you are…”

And finally, finally, her hiccups start to calm.

Harry breathes in relief, letting his head rest against his girl’s for a moment.

“Your delicate point of view, I was thinking ‘bout you,” he croons.

She clenches at his shoulder, huffing a jagged breath into his neck.

“I’m not worried about where you are, or who you will go home to…”

Emma sniffles, her little whine petering into a low hum. Her body grows heavy in his arms, her grasp around his neck becoming lax.

Harry presses a kiss to her temple.

“I’m just thinkin’ about you.”

Chapter Text

We’re in New York.

Me, Louis, Harry, Niall, Liam and Zayn; we’re all currently in The Big Apple.

We’re about two months into tour, having started in Asia and now going through the North American leg of the tour. What legs have to do with anything, I’m not sure, because I think arms could work just as well, and maybe reach further, but Niall said they’re called legs, so I guess that’s what I’ll call it, too.

And we’re going out for dinner.

Apparently.

I’m still working on how to get out of it.

“Alright, Jem, two more minutes then we’ve gotta go get ready for dinner,” Louis calls.

“Mmkay,” I agree, absently.

I shift where I sit, leaning further into the coffee table I’ve been placed at. My foot squishes the nappy close to me where it is resting in the crook of my legs, and I fidget against the damp material.

“Do you need a change?” Louis asks.

I shift again, frowning.

“No, m’okay,” I mumble.

“Dada’ll check, hmm?” He says.

He gives no more preemption before stepping closer, crouching down behind me.

He lifts up the back of my shirt, one of Harry’s old graphic tees, tucking it out of the way and pulling the elastic waist of the nappy back. He lets it snap back, after a moment, humming.

My face heats up as his hands reach around the front, fingers dabbing at the puffed out material sitting over my crotch.

“Yep, time for a change,” he decides.

“But I’m drawing!” I whine.

He pulls me up into his arms, spinning me around and settling me on his hip.

“And you can finish drawing him after you’re all clean.”

He gestures down toward the sheet of paper, eyeing the features.

“Your very lovely, very beautiful… pink… ducky,” Louis smiles.

I frown at him.

“He’s a chicken,” I assert. “See? He’s got the comb, and everything.”

“Oh, right, well, my apologies, Miss Tomlinson-Styles-Horan-Malik-Payne.”

I giggle.

“That is so… silly,” I decide, “You have to come up with something better.”

Louis grins, blue eyes warm.

“You’re right. Maybe we should make it longer?” He hums.

“No!” I laugh.

He smiles and chucks me on the chin as he turns and heads back toward the bedrooms.

The boys have a big hotel room, here in New York, all the way at the very top of a very tall building, much bigger than any other room we’ve stayed in so far. It’s not really a room, either, more like a small house; the penthouse, I think they’d called it. Whatever it is, it’s got enough bedrooms for each of the boys (and me) to have my own, though for the past couple nights I’d really ended up in one of their beds, anyways.

By the time we’ve entered the master bedroom, which by their counts was most important to give to me, the wetness in my nappy has begun to itch.

I fidget where I’m settled on Louis’ hip, the boy quick to lay me down.

Being laid on the change mat is no easier either, and I fidget as Louis gets me settled.

“What do you think, Li? I’ve got-“

Harry jolts to a stop as he enters the room, coming from the walk in closet.

“Oh, hey Lou,” he starts. “Have you seen Li? He was helpin’ me choose an outfit for Jems.”

He pouts, staring around the room. He’s carrying two dresses, one pink and one green, and they sway where he holds them.

“No, haven’t seen him. Just this bugga-boo.” Louis chuckles.

He turns to me, rubbing a hand over my stomach.

“Y’wanna help Daddy pick your outfit?” Louis asks me. “M’gonna be no help, you know that.”

He grasps for the elastic waist of my shorts, pulling them down my thighs. Without a bodysuit in the way, it’s easy enough for Louis to tuck the oversized shirt up over my abdomen, to make ease of reach for the nappy tabs. Louis lifts my legs, a little, resting my feet up on the change table.

Harry steps closer, bringing the clothes down to his thigh as he approaches the change table. He smiles, softly, lifting a hand to thumb my furrowed brow.

“Hello, Miss Jemima,” he coos, “Having a change, are we?”

I nod my head, turning away.

My stomach tenses as Louis pulls at the tabs, breath picking up.

“S’okay, bug,” Louis coos.

Heat builds in my stomach, fuzz starting to prickle at my temples.

“Doing so good,” Harry soothes, rubbing a hand over mine.

I grasp for his fingers, heat building in my eyes.

I whimper as Harry pulls his hand away, the minute time only broken in how long it takes him to grasp my thumb from my mouth and press a pacifier in, instead.

I suck on the pacifier, furrowing a brow at Harry. How do they always know when I’m doing it, but I don’t even know myself?

Louis pulls the front of the nappy away, cool air brushing over my skin.

“It’s alright, honey. Doing so good, sweetheart,” Louis soothes.

The balm of the cold wipes makes me tense, inadvertently trying to pull away.

“What colour do you think for tonight, hmm?” Harry asks, all of a sudden.

I turn to my right, brow furrowed.

He’s pulled the dresses up, the green one in front.

“This one’s got some nice gems down the front, but this one-“

He twists them around, one handed, the pink now visible.

“This one’s more ruffly. Got more of the tutu puffs you like.”

I glance between the two, sucking gently, now. They rhythmic bobbing is starting to pull me down, my heart rate and patchy breath steadying, a blended fuzz filtering in over my eyes.

I point toward the pink dress, the ruffles swaying in slow motion.

Harry grins.

“Great choice, my girl,” he praises, “Was hoping you’d pick that one.”

He grazes his free hand over my hair, thumbing my cheek before he moves away.

“Pick what one?”

Liam has made an appearance, waltzing into the room with his smart shirt and dress pants on. His hair is done, too neatly pushed back over the top of his head.

“About time!” Harry reprimands, “What happened to two minutes? Never mind,” he cuts in, when Liam goes to speak, “Jems helped me work it out.”

“Sorry I had to get dressed,” Liam rolls his eyes with a warm smile.

He crosses the threshold, coming to stand around the other side of Louis and pressing a warm hand to my belly. He smells clean and like cologne, faintly, but the good kind that doesn’t make me feel sick.

“You being good, ‘Mima?” He asks.

I flush, nodding, face growing even hotter as he grins.

“Such a good girl for your daddies, aren’t you?” He praises. “Always.”

My face grows warm, again, as someone else is in the room while I’m bare, but Louis is already puffing powder over my skin and pulling up the front of a fresh nappy.

When he’d gotten a new one under there, I have no idea.

My heart rate calms as I’m covered, again, Louis leaving my bottoms free of clothing. He wipes his hands on a wipe, throwing that in the nappy bin beside him, too.

“All done, beautiful,” he coos.

He thumbs my cheek before stepping aside, Harry taking his place.

“Alright!” Harry cheers.

He claps his hands together, grasping me under the armpits and pulling me up to sit.

“Time to get dressed!”

Chapter Text

A boy skips along the sidewalk. He stretches out his hand, letting his twinkling, glove-covered fingers graze the overshoots of dandelions peeking out from the side of the pavement. His left hand is tickled by frosted foliage, his right grasped in the keen palm of a woman. Even as she stands an inch or so shorter than him, her unwavering hold is gentle but firm, fingers clutched assured around the palm of his sprightly hand as she strolls aside him. The two approach a pedestrian crossing, the boy’s feet shuffling to a stop at the mark of the woman.

The boy takes a moment to smack the notifying sign, hand planting firm over the image of people walking.

“Watch the road,” she says, firmly.

She tugs him away from his distraction.

“Are there any cars coming?”

The boy’s head swishes back and forth, too fast to check, much to the woman’s amusement.

“No, Mama,” he says.

He frowns down at her seriously.

The woman herself takes a moment to check, before nodding.

“Alright then, little prince, it’s time to cross the road. Let’s go!”

The woman swings their joined hands up high into the air, the boy giggling as they start to cross the road.

“-lie? Ellie!”

I start, coming to at the sound of Liam’s voice.

“What?” I hum.

Liam smiles, a belated glance toward the two walking across the road making heat flush my face.

“I said, I’m havin’ some friends over tonight,” he announces. “You remember Harry, yeah?”

I blink.

“Harry Styles?” Liam prompts.

Oh.

That Harry.

Patchwork images of his memory flicker across my mind’s eye. Glances of his handsome face and wide, dimpled smile; his sparkling green eyes glittering with amusement and the depth of familiarity.

I cast my gaze away, heat flushing my cheeks.

“Harry’s coming?” I ask.

It wasn’t attraction, per se; but whatever you could categorise the fluttering in my belly (without leaning toward a kiss) would give you clarity as to why my heart was racing, so.

“So you do remember him.”

The red wash of my face has fallen away in favour of the raucous squint I send his smiling face.

“I wasn’t that young when we first met.” I frown.

“Well, him and his partner, Zayn, they’re gonna be staying with us for a couple nights.” Liam announces.

“Oh,” I mumble. “Why?”

I pick at my jeans.

Liam reaches across the table, grasping my free hand in his own.

“Just for a bit,” Liam assures. “They moved back to town a couple weeks ago, but their heating hasn’t been working, so they need it fixed before they can go back.”

I nod.

The waitress takes that moment to appear, asking for our order with a pen and paper in hand.

Liam orders for the both of us, a cappuccino for him and a hot chocolate for me, bidding her a smile as she heads back inside.

I bite my lip, picking at my thumb.

“They don’t have to stay in my room, do they?” I murmur.

Liam squeezes my palm in his.

“Your room is always yours, babe. You know that.”

I nod, heart rate slowing a little as I meet his assured gaze.

“Besides, we’ve got the study. I can move my work stuff into my room for a bit, and we can set up the pull out for them. I wonder if they’ll…”
Liam’s words filter into the background as my gaze floats back across the frosty morning. Snow would be coming, soon; frost fills my lungs as I breathe in the cool air. We must have looked crazy, Liam and I, choosing to sit in the cold outside the warmth of the coffee shop. Liam’s always been a stickler for things that are supposed to make you feel healthier, and in a way it was our thing, so I was happy to let it be.

I find myself affixed to the park across the street. In particular, a tall, dark-haired man helping his little girl down the slide. I want to sneer at the barrettes decorating her ponytails, at her overly childish dress and the way the fabric is puffed out over her very obvious nappy. Yet all I can manage is a tightened chest at the comfort muddled between the two, of the strong grasp of the man’s hands under the girl’s arms and the way she so effortlessly leans into him.

Some years ago, it would have been reminiscent of us. Of Harry, and I. Perhaps it still was.

I shake my head, clearing the reign of things left to rot.

That was a long time ago.

Chapter Text

It’s been a long day.

Yes, I’d been fighting my headspace all day, but it wasn’t exactly easy to fall into it when Nick had let his friends, Harry and Louis, come to stay with us all day. And now, all night, too. And there was something about the easy way they interacted with one another, and poked fun together, that bled into their interactions with me.

And normally I’d have joined in. But it’s been weeks since I’ve been able to drop properly and I’m already feeling weird without the newcomers in my house.

Newcomers that have put me on edge purely from the fact that they’re both caregivers. They haven’t said as much.

But I can tell.

And I suppose that hiding of information is making my irritation bubble to the surface a little hotter than I’d expect it to.

Especially now, when I’ve finally gotten into the shower after an hour of fighting my brother on it, and won’t pick up the loofa. Nick looks like he wants to give me a smack, too, but for some reason it isn’t enough to make me stop being a brat.

Because I am bratting, right now.

I just can’t find it in me to care.

Nick grabs for the loofa for the third time this evening, but I yank it out of his reach.

“No, fuck off, Nick! I can do it my-myself,” I hiccup.

Nick groans, sighing.

“Fine. Fine! Do it yourself,” he grunts, “If you won’t listen to me, I’m leaving the bathroom.”

He throws his hands up, taking his leave.

I frown. Normally he’s completely against leaving me alone in here.

It fades to irritation the second one Louis Tomlinson steps through the door.

I only scowl at him. Don’t move to cover herself up.

Headspace is teetering, now.

“What are you doing in here?” I hiccup.

The man only presses forward, staring blankly. He appraises me, gaze skating over my unwashed body in a quick skim that couldn’t be anything but assessing.

“You told Nick to leave,” Louis states, “I’m here to help you now.”

“I told Nick to f-fuck off,” I stutter.

I feel my voice wavering at the idea of swearing in front of this man’s firm expression. “And I don’t need help.”

“I think you’d better watch your language, Miss, or you’ll be getting a spanking.” Louis chides.

“You can’t do that,” I balk, “You’re not in charge of me. Nick is!”

Louis hums, raising a brow.

“And Nick has given me permission to take care of you while you shower. Now, I don’t want to give you a spanking, but I will.”

I scoff, rolling my eyes. “Nick!”

My breath catches as Louis leans forward, his jaw set.

“Stop shouting. Wash yourself,” he commands.

I scowl at him, scrunching up my nose.

“I am!” I grunt.

He steps forward, laying a sharp smack to my thigh.

I squeak, mouth parting.

“I said, that’s enough shouting,” Louis repeats, ever as calm. “You’re wasting water; wash yourself, now.”

“Don’t- don’t smack me!” I warble.

I can’t help the wobble that flits through my tone, the volume cut through.

I reach for the loofa, pumping body wash into the looped rag.

Louis reaches forward, gently pinching my chin between his thumb and index.

“Then listen the first time,” he murmurs.

He has a brow raised.

I scowl at him, averting my gaze.

“I don’t like you,” I mumble.

I rub the loofa all over my body, making sure to turn and get some sensitive body wash.

“You have to look away,” I mumble, cheeks flushing. “Please.”

Something of a smile flits over his face.

He does as asked, turning away as I start cleaning my genitals. When I’m clean, I speak again.

“Done,” I mumble.

He turns around, assessing me.

“All clean?” He asks.

I nod.

“Good girl,” he murmurs.

My cheeks flush again, and I swallow. He shuts off the water, proffering an open towel.

I go to take it but the man only wraps it around me himself, twisting the front around and tying it off.

I take the toothbrush he’s readied for me, looking at him through the mirror as I brush my teeth.

“Floss,” he says.

I frown.

Louis tilts his head.

“Do you need me to help you?”

“Can do it,” I whisper.

I grasp the string of floss from his hand, starting up on it.

“Rinse.”

He hands me a cap full of mouthwash, next, raising a brow as I go to spit it out before he’s timed out.

It’s the longest and most thorough I think I’ve been with my wash routine in a while, and the insistence of mouthwash is starting to burn. I furrow my brow as he flicks his wrist out toward himself, looking at the time.

“Spit,” he commands.

I do so with vigour, biting at my tongue to try to scrape off any lingering burning flavour.

He lifts a dampened washcloth to my face that I hadn’t noticed before, startling me as he cleans off around my face.

“Bedroom. C’mon,” he murmurs.

I follow him out into the hallway, into my bedroom which is still the mess it was before. Nick has laid out my pyjamas, I can see, along with a pull up.

My cheeks flush, and I rush forward to hide the garments with my body.

Louis steps forward, reaching for the towel.

“Want Nick,” I wobble.

“We’ll get you dry and into your pyjamas, and then we’ll go see him. Okay?”

He reaches forward again, and I lean back. He follows, enough to clasp his fingers into the towel.

“I can do this myself.” I say.

I stare up at him, blinking sluggishly. I clench my jaw to hold back a yawn.

“I know you can,” he murmurs.

I don’t fight as he pulls at the tie, opening up the damp fabric.

He murmurs softly under his breath as he dries off my body, mentions of my being a good girl and making my head go fuzzy all over again.

I don’t fight as he helps the pull up over my feet, my heart rate slowing as I’m somewhat covered again.

He takes the bottle of lotion I’d seen him grab from the bathroom, pumping it into his hands and covering my body with it.

His hands are so firm, so sure, and he feels so certain in front of me that it’s taking everything in me not to fall into him right then and there. It almost feels like a massage, the slow, purposeful swipes of his palms over all my skin.

I watch him.

“You’re not my Daddy,” I whisper.

Louis looks up, rubbing the final bit of lotion into my stomach, blinking.

“Just cause… cause I’m little sometimes, doesn’t mean I can’t- can’t do it myself.”

He appraises me, so firm yet so gentle it has my heart picking up in my chest.

“But isn’t it nice, anyway?”

My gaze flicks between his.

He takes my pyjamas, easily threading my limbs into the material before taking the towel and drying off my damp hair a little.

“Time to say goodnight,” he murmurs.

He takes me by the hand, pulling me in my confusion out of the bedroom and back into the hallway.

Heat tries to flush my neck as we make our way back into the lounge, where Nick is sitting across from Harry, both with drinks in their hands. But I can’t seem to care, not when this man has my hand in his and he’s rubbing his thumb gently over the back and he’s leaning down to murmur into my ear.

“You wanna say goodnight to your brother, sweetheart?”

I nod sluggishly, making my way over to Nick. He opens his arms, to which I curl in close, eyes dropping.

“You being good for Louis?” He murmurs.

I flush, tilting my head into his chest with a nod.

“He smacked me,” I mumble.

“He did?” Nick asks.

I nod, furrowing my brow, but when I look at him he doesn’t seem upset, only interested.

“And why was that?”

I flush, pressing my face into his chest.

Nick doesn’t say anything, only presses a kiss to my head.

“Sit in front of me, I’ll brush your hair.”

I nod, slipping off the couch to settle in front of him.

He takes a brush from somewhere, coaxing it gently through my tangled locks.

It takes a while, and eventually my eyes are completely closed while he’s pulling the bristles through my hair in long, easy sweeps.

He presses a kiss to my head before hands are pressing under my armpits and pulling me back up again.

I go, easily, just about asleep but awake enough to register I’m pulled up beside a warm, firm body which is assuredly not my brother’s.
My eyes flutter as I look up, mouth parting around words that never leave, in time for a bottle nipple to be pressed between them.

I can just register Louis, a content expression on his face as I suckle at the bottle. The milk is thick, rich, and I hum under my breath as I drink greedily.

I think Louis’ smiling, what I can make out before my eyes slip closed once more.

Another body settles close to mine, larger in stature but just as present and warm. A hand passes through my hair, fingers longer than Louis’, and as I lean into the graze I hear Harry’s replying hum.

“Sleep well, darling,” Louis murmurs.

A kiss is pressed to my forehead before I’m out.