notfic
i wrote a short babyfic drabble a very long time ago, and then over break i decided to pop out another (pregnancy humor, guys). this is a follow-up, or not, take it however you want.
Harry has read What to Expect When You're Expecting three times.
Not in full, actually, and not because he knows anyone who's expecting now, but it turns out the dog-eared pages on your infant's developing stages in what was a gag gift for Louis have been extremely helpful. It also turns out that Louis was not expecting any of this.
Josie is a fiend. Her first few weeks, unnamed, were spent in Doncaster with Jay's watchful eye and then her first months, back in London, she turns long, long nights into early mornings, until her and Louis are nearly nocturnal. Harry comes in once with the groceries and finds Louis curled up on the floor next to Josie's basinet in the middle of the living room, baby monitor clutched in his hands even as Josie sleeps next to the other.
"You know," Harry says quietly, tiptoeing into the room. Louis blinks sleepily, trying to wake up. "Those things are meant so you can actually be in a different room than her. Like maybe her actual bedroom. Like the one right down the hall."
Louis glares. "If you wake her up, so help me God, Harry."
Harry sprawls next to him on the floor, limbs spread wide. "Maybe you should think about it, though."
"What, waking her up?" Louis asks, eyes wild. Harry wants nothing more than to put them both to bed, preferably after the sun goes down.
"No, maybe you should finish the nursery. You kind of missed your nesting period."
"I think we're quite past a nesting period, Harry, she has been here for awhile now."
"Lou, I think she has three different beds.” Louis rolls his eyes, but it’s an empty gesture, and Harry rests his head on his arms. “Maybe some stability would help. And not in the way I think you’re thinking because I know you cocoon her in pillows the second you so much as set her near the sofa so she doesn't roll off.”
Louis scowls. Tiny breaths come from the monitor in his hands, from just above them.
"I did want to paint it," Louis says tentatively.
"Alright," Harry says. "It's time to nest."
--
"Zayn might be high," Louis says when he opens the door.
"What?" Harry stares. He's got Josie in one arm and all the windows Harry can see have been pushed open, the curtains blowing, where Louis typically prefers the cold of his AC.
"He's been painting all afternoon and--well, I've got some ventilation going now, but I don't know, it's questionable."
It is there, Harry notices, a hint of sour paint smell, when he breathes in deep.
"For all I know he's fallen asleep by now, I haven't checked--okay, Josie, ow, okay." Josie's a kicker now, too, to Louis' ridiculous pleasure, until he's attempting to get her dressed and her tiny feet refuse to stay still, as Louis whispers, "come on, come on, you can't hate socks as well."
"I'll go see him," Harry says. He follows the thickening scent of paint, heaviest in the hall, and makes it to the doorway of the nursery, "Zayn, we wanted to know how you're--oh." Harry stops.
Zayn's not asleep, but he is on the floor, eyes popping open as Harry appears in the doorway. He's got paint smudged on his cheeks and flecks in his beard, and there, just on the wall where the light catches from the sun going down in the open window, are birds, flying up the wall to the ceiling, not unlike the one tattooed on Zayn's hand.
"What?" Zayn asks from the floor.
Harry steps into the room, prodding at Zayn's shoe with his foot. "Lou wanted to know if you were high."
Zayn huffs. "Nah. C'n just stick my head out if it gets too much in here. What do you think?"
Hary nods. "Yeah, they're really good," he says, looking to the birds. "Think she'll like them."
"He was worried about the colors or something," Zayn says. "He didn't know what she'd like, but I dunno, I like these."
Most of the room is blushed pink, but the birds are a shade of grey with faint black outlines.
"And that," Zayn says, waving to the wall to Harry's back, and there's a dandelion at the bottom, seeds traveling along the length of it like they're flying in the wind.
Harry clears his throat. "Well," he says, "if she hates it she can always paint over it."
Zayn kicks him. "Twat."
Down the hall, they can hear Louis cooing to Josie, the thump of his feet as he carries her around.
"Come on," Harry reaches out a hand to pull Zayn up. "He'll think we've died from the fumes by now."
--
They have an impromptu band dinner, with Louis uncharacteristically apologizing for the state of the flat, even though the only difference between their mess and the boys' is nappies and weird baby toys versus piles of dirty laundry and Playstation controllers.
"Josie," Liam sings, kneeling next to her bouncy chair. "Josie, Josie, Josie."
Zayn hums 'Josie and the Pussycats' under his breath as he helps Harry dish up plates, Niall already seated at the table, waiting.
"Did you have a good day, Josie?" Liam asks, hand sweeping sweetly over her head, her ears, and the short fine hair that they are always perplexed on what to do with. Of all of them, he was probably the most uneasy when she was born, as though he was unsure of how to fit something so small into his arms.
"She did, she slept through it," Louis sighs from his perch on the counter. "So she'll be up all night."
"You don't say," Liam says, and then sings, "Josie May is on replay, she's on replay." Josie stares at him.
"Josie, do you remember when you used to scream at us?" Liam asks her, leaving her side when Harry beckons him over to the table, serving them all. "Maybe that was like her official rebellion, now she won't have one when she's a teenager."
"Teenager," Louis blanches, fork halfway to his mouth. It's about the same expression Harry noticed when Josie started crawling, when Louis started shutting and locking every door they have like she'd crawl right out the front door and leave him.
"Well, I like her," Niall says absently, intent on his food. "I think she just needs some warming up to."
"Niall, I left you alone with her for five minutes and you were googling 'how to hold a baby,'" Louis says.
"And it's a valid search, I learnt a lot. Maybe I can babysit in a few years," Niall says and Harry snorts and causes a major uprise in concern that he's choked on his dinner.
--
"At this rate we might still be driving by the time the Breakfast Show comes on," Louis mumbles and Harry jumps because he thought he'd dozed off by now, head against the window.
Apparently they're oh for three in the sleep department though, because one glance to the backseat and Harry can see Josie's eyes, horribly awake, peeking out from under a hat Gemma bought, the only one she’s allowed on her head this week.
Harry counts just over an hour they've been driving, since two when Josie woke up and refused to go back to sleep no matter what they did. The car method's not proven with Josie but Harry figures, desperate times.
"At this rate I'll have us back in Doncaster by the time she finally sleeps," Harry says. He's been up for he doesn't know how long, but he doubles that amount for Louis, which is why he was very much Not Allowed to drive when they decided to bundle up and drive outside London in the middle of the night.
Louis' eyes are starting to get that look, that feels like when he first brought her home, the endless days of crying and messy clothes and loud loud loud and once, Louis stared wearily around him and crumpled into a chair, face in palms, and said, "I’ve created a monster." It reminds Harry of Sunday nights and feeling like there's a chance they won't make it after all.
Harry thinks. "Do you want to?" he asks, blinking his eyes, forcing them to open wider.
Louis' head lifts, peering at him through the dark. "What?" he asks.
"Do you want me to keep driving to Doncaster? We can make it there tonight."
He can feel Louis' eyes on him, the breaths he's taking.
"No," Louis says quietly, but it's sure. "No, I can do this. I think we can do this."
Harry nods, and searches for a spot to turn the car around.
Harry has read What to Expect When You're Expecting three times.
Not in full, actually, and not because he knows anyone who's expecting now, but it turns out the dog-eared pages on your infant's developing stages in what was a gag gift for Louis have been extremely helpful. It also turns out that Louis was not expecting any of this.
Josie is a fiend. Her first few weeks, unnamed, were spent in Doncaster with Jay's watchful eye and then her first months, back in London, she turns long, long nights into early mornings, until her and Louis are nearly nocturnal. Harry comes in once with the groceries and finds Louis curled up on the floor next to Josie's basinet in the middle of the living room, baby monitor clutched in his hands even as Josie sleeps next to the other.
"You know," Harry says quietly, tiptoeing into the room. Louis blinks sleepily, trying to wake up. "Those things are meant so you can actually be in a different room than her. Like maybe her actual bedroom. Like the one right down the hall."
Louis glares. "If you wake her up, so help me God, Harry."
Harry sprawls next to him on the floor, limbs spread wide. "Maybe you should think about it, though."
"What, waking her up?" Louis asks, eyes wild. Harry wants nothing more than to put them both to bed, preferably after the sun goes down.
"No, maybe you should finish the nursery. You kind of missed your nesting period."
"I think we're quite past a nesting period, Harry, she has been here for awhile now."
"Lou, I think she has three different beds.” Louis rolls his eyes, but it’s an empty gesture, and Harry rests his head on his arms. “Maybe some stability would help. And not in the way I think you’re thinking because I know you cocoon her in pillows the second you so much as set her near the sofa so she doesn't roll off.”
Louis scowls. Tiny breaths come from the monitor in his hands, from just above them.
"I did want to paint it," Louis says tentatively.
"Alright," Harry says. "It's time to nest."
--
"Zayn might be high," Louis says when he opens the door.
"What?" Harry stares. He's got Josie in one arm and all the windows Harry can see have been pushed open, the curtains blowing, where Louis typically prefers the cold of his AC.
"He's been painting all afternoon and--well, I've got some ventilation going now, but I don't know, it's questionable."
It is there, Harry notices, a hint of sour paint smell, when he breathes in deep.
"For all I know he's fallen asleep by now, I haven't checked--okay, Josie, ow, okay." Josie's a kicker now, too, to Louis' ridiculous pleasure, until he's attempting to get her dressed and her tiny feet refuse to stay still, as Louis whispers, "come on, come on, you can't hate socks as well."
"I'll go see him," Harry says. He follows the thickening scent of paint, heaviest in the hall, and makes it to the doorway of the nursery, "Zayn, we wanted to know how you're--oh." Harry stops.
Zayn's not asleep, but he is on the floor, eyes popping open as Harry appears in the doorway. He's got paint smudged on his cheeks and flecks in his beard, and there, just on the wall where the light catches from the sun going down in the open window, are birds, flying up the wall to the ceiling, not unlike the one tattooed on Zayn's hand.
"What?" Zayn asks from the floor.
Harry steps into the room, prodding at Zayn's shoe with his foot. "Lou wanted to know if you were high."
Zayn huffs. "Nah. C'n just stick my head out if it gets too much in here. What do you think?"
Hary nods. "Yeah, they're really good," he says, looking to the birds. "Think she'll like them."
"He was worried about the colors or something," Zayn says. "He didn't know what she'd like, but I dunno, I like these."
Most of the room is blushed pink, but the birds are a shade of grey with faint black outlines.
"And that," Zayn says, waving to the wall to Harry's back, and there's a dandelion at the bottom, seeds traveling along the length of it like they're flying in the wind.
Harry clears his throat. "Well," he says, "if she hates it she can always paint over it."
Zayn kicks him. "Twat."
Down the hall, they can hear Louis cooing to Josie, the thump of his feet as he carries her around.
"Come on," Harry reaches out a hand to pull Zayn up. "He'll think we've died from the fumes by now."
--
They have an impromptu band dinner, with Louis uncharacteristically apologizing for the state of the flat, even though the only difference between their mess and the boys' is nappies and weird baby toys versus piles of dirty laundry and Playstation controllers.
"Josie," Liam sings, kneeling next to her bouncy chair. "Josie, Josie, Josie."
Zayn hums 'Josie and the Pussycats' under his breath as he helps Harry dish up plates, Niall already seated at the table, waiting.
"Did you have a good day, Josie?" Liam asks, hand sweeping sweetly over her head, her ears, and the short fine hair that they are always perplexed on what to do with. Of all of them, he was probably the most uneasy when she was born, as though he was unsure of how to fit something so small into his arms.
"She did, she slept through it," Louis sighs from his perch on the counter. "So she'll be up all night."
"You don't say," Liam says, and then sings, "Josie May is on replay, she's on replay." Josie stares at him.
"Josie, do you remember when you used to scream at us?" Liam asks her, leaving her side when Harry beckons him over to the table, serving them all. "Maybe that was like her official rebellion, now she won't have one when she's a teenager."
"Teenager," Louis blanches, fork halfway to his mouth. It's about the same expression Harry noticed when Josie started crawling, when Louis started shutting and locking every door they have like she'd crawl right out the front door and leave him.
"Well, I like her," Niall says absently, intent on his food. "I think she just needs some warming up to."
"Niall, I left you alone with her for five minutes and you were googling 'how to hold a baby,'" Louis says.
"And it's a valid search, I learnt a lot. Maybe I can babysit in a few years," Niall says and Harry snorts and causes a major uprise in concern that he's choked on his dinner.
--
"At this rate we might still be driving by the time the Breakfast Show comes on," Louis mumbles and Harry jumps because he thought he'd dozed off by now, head against the window.
Apparently they're oh for three in the sleep department though, because one glance to the backseat and Harry can see Josie's eyes, horribly awake, peeking out from under a hat Gemma bought, the only one she’s allowed on her head this week.
Harry counts just over an hour they've been driving, since two when Josie woke up and refused to go back to sleep no matter what they did. The car method's not proven with Josie but Harry figures, desperate times.
"At this rate I'll have us back in Doncaster by the time she finally sleeps," Harry says. He's been up for he doesn't know how long, but he doubles that amount for Louis, which is why he was very much Not Allowed to drive when they decided to bundle up and drive outside London in the middle of the night.
Louis' eyes are starting to get that look, that feels like when he first brought her home, the endless days of crying and messy clothes and loud loud loud and once, Louis stared wearily around him and crumpled into a chair, face in palms, and said, "I’ve created a monster." It reminds Harry of Sunday nights and feeling like there's a chance they won't make it after all.
Harry thinks. "Do you want to?" he asks, blinking his eyes, forcing them to open wider.
Louis' head lifts, peering at him through the dark. "What?" he asks.
"Do you want me to keep driving to Doncaster? We can make it there tonight."
He can feel Louis' eyes on him, the breaths he's taking.
"No," Louis says quietly, but it's sure. "No, I can do this. I think we can do this."
Harry nods, and searches for a spot to turn the car around.