Harry knows Louis needs to be at the hospital right now. He knows it's the best for Louis' health, and he'll be able to recover quicker (if at all, but. Harry tries not to think about that) if he's there, but he misses him. He misses falling asleep next to him, and waking up with him right there. His pillow doesn't even smell like him anymore.

He especially wishes Louis was with him now, though, because he's 97% sure that he's going into labour, and he's kinda freaking out. Jay's not home, Dan's not home, Félicité's not home...you know, to save you time, Lottie is the only other person home right now. Harry loves her to death, but she's not the best in an emergency situation. You know who is? Louis. Who's not here. This whole situation is just fabulous.

Harry clenches his jaw, leaning into Louis' dresser and squeezing his eyes shut, trying to get through what he assumes to be a contraction. This is exactly what Jay said they'd be like, and considering she's gone through it five times, Harry trusts her.

The contraction passes, and Harry exhales in relief, resting his head in his hands. He's been whining about wanting the baby out for days, but now he's kind of regretting it. His back is aching, and his belly is so heavy, and everything hurts every time he moves. But he's not ready, he doesn't think he ever will be.

Slowly, he stands up straight, whimpering a little at the ache in his back. He slips his Vans on, grabbing his phone off the bed and taking a deep breath. His eyes land on the cot set up next to the bed, and he smiles a little, his tummy still filled with nervous butterflies.

Sighing a little, he sticks his phone in the pocket of his (huge) sweatpants and walks (waddles) out of the room, down the hall to Lottie's. He opens the door to see her laying on her bed watching Love Island.

"Hi," She says, not taking her eyes off the telly.

"I'm in labour," Harry replies. That gets her to look at him. "Wanna come?"

"I-Um," Lottie stumbles off the bed, grabbing the remote off the bedside table and turning the telly off. "Holy shit, are you okay?"

"I mean, yeah, for now," Harry can't help but laugh a little. "Are you ready to leave, like, now?"

"Um, yeah," Lottie rushes towards her closet and grabs a pair of shoes. "Have you told Louis? Or Mum?"

"No, was gonna call in the car," Harry says.

"Are you gonna drive to the hospital?" Lottie's yes widen, slipping her shoes on and grabbing her phone. "While you're in labour?"

"Would you rather take a Lyft?"

Lottie rolls her eyes, running her hands over her face. Harry feels like he should be as stressed as her, if not more so, but he's trying not to think about it. "Would you mind getting the bag? 'S behind the door in Lou's room, and I'm kind of already carrying a full-sized baby."

"Sure, yeah," Lottie throws her hair up into a ponytail, taking a deep breath and looking over to Harry. "Are you ready?"

Harry shrugs. "I kinda have to be," He laughs.

♛

"Ah," Harry hisses, gripping the steering wheel tight. Lottie looks panicked, like she doesn't know what to do. Harry's trying his best not to swerve the fucking car.

"Do you want me to call Lou?" Lottie asks, her nerves evident in the way her voice wobbles. Harry just nods, trying to catch his breath while Lottie takes her phone out of her pocket. Louis seems to answer after a few rings, and Harry can't help but think how he would've answered faster if Harry was the one calling. "Um, hi. Harry's in labour, we're driving to the hospital."

Harry can faintly hear Louis' panicked words on the other line, and he smiles to himself a little, the contraction coming to a stop. Lottie hands him the phone. "He wants to talk to you."

Harry takes it and places it between his cheek and his shoulder, keeping his hands on the wheel. "Hi," He says, the greeting coming out much shakier than he intended.

"Holy shit. Hi, baby. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Harry's voice breaks as he says it, eyes becoming watery. Lottie looks over at him, face softening sympathetically. "Just a little scared."

"Oh, Hazza," Louis says gently, and Harry sniffles. "I'm gonna be down there as fast as I can, okay? My mum's on her way here anyways, I can call her. Did you grab the bag? Who's taking you?"

"Um, I'm driving," Harry says meekly, smiling sheepishly when Louis let's out a nervous laugh.

"Oh my God, Harry, you're insane."

"Well, I wasn't about to let Lottie drive me," Harry giggles despite the tears running down his cheeks. "Miss Drove-Into-a-Mailbox."

"Oi!" Lottie huffs.

Louis laughs, and Harry's nerves are soothed a little by the sound. "Just be careful, okay?"

"I will," Harry sniffles again. "I love you, L."

"I love you too, babe, and I wish I could be with you, but I'll see you soon."

They get to the hospital soon enough, Lottie grabbing the bag and helping Harry out of the car. Harry can't help but squeeze her hand a little when she grabs his, his legs trembling as he slowly walks towards the entrance.

Walking up to the woman at the desk, he sniffles and says "Um, hi. I'm in labour."

The woman's face softens. Her name tag says Nalya. "Okay, love, can you give me your name?" She asks gently.

"Harry Styles," Lottie squeezes his hand. "I think my boyfriend's Mum called."

"Yup, we have you right here," She smiles at him. "We're gonna get you into an exam room so we can check on your little one, okay?

"Okay," Harry sniffles again, bottom lip trembling. "Thank you."

"Of course," Nalya picks up the telephone on her desk and dials a number, telling the person they have Harry Styles there and he's ready for his check-up.

"Are you okay?" Lottie asks him, voice low.

"Yeah," Harry whispers, swallowing thickly. Clearly he's not okay. He's in labour. Louis isn't here. He tries his best not to cry, though, although it's not going so well. He feels so small. Kind of ironic.

Before he knows it he's sitting in a wheelchair, Lottie following the nurse pushing him with his bag over her shoulder. They have Harry sit on an exam table, and the nurse starts to take his blood pressure when the door opens.

"I'm here," Louis says breathlessly, smiling at Harry weakly. He's got tubes up his nose, a bag on his back that Harry can only imagine has his oxygen tank in it. He walks right up to the nurse and holds his hand out to her. "Hi. I'm the dad."

The nurse smiles and shakes his head. "Louis. We've heard all about you," She chuckles. "We're gonna make sure you and Harry here are both taken care of, okay?"

"Great," Louis says dismissively, going to stand by Harry's side. Harry grabs his hand, and Louis leans down and presses a kiss to his forehead. "How're you doing, love?"

"I'm okay," Harry whimpers, clearly not okay at all. "Do you need to sit?"

"No, I'm fine," Louis laughs a little. "Don't worry about me, H. We're focusing on you 'n baby, okay?"

"But-" Harry is interrupted by a contraction. He wrinkles his nose, closing his eyes to focus on trying to breathe. He can feel Louis squeeze his hand gently, and he squeezes back a little harder. His hand is really cold, or maybe just under-oxygenated.

"Breathe," Louis says softly. Which, is kind of ironic coming from him. Harry would make a joke about that if there wasn't a baby making her way through his asshole.

"Mum is calling me, one sec," Lottie mumbles, and Harry can hear her leave the room. His contraction comes to a stop, and he slumps down and exhales.

"You should sit," Harry finally chokes out. Louis lets out a breathy laugh, adjusting the beanie covering his head with his free hand.

"I'm fine, I feel good," Louis assures, bringing Harry's hand up to his mouth and kissing the back of it. "Probably just adrenaline. I could shit my pants right now."

"Please, don't," Harry mumbles. He can hear the nurse laugh a little.

"Alright, love, let's get you checked out," She says, turning on a monitor. "Could you lift your shirt for me, please?"

Harry obliges, looking up and seeing Louis' huge grin. He wrinkles his nose at him, and Louis just leans down and kisses the top of his head. The nurse squirts some gel on his bump, and he shivers at the sudden coldness on his skin.

"Remind me of your due date again, hun?" She asks.

"The 17th," Harry sniffles. "Tomorrow."

"Ah, okay," She nods, moving the wand around a bit on Harry's belly before pointing to the monitor. "See how her head's facing down? That means she's ready to come out."

"Woah," Louis stares at the monitor.

"So she's coming today?" Harry asks, his voice barely a whisper, hands trembling.

"I think so," The nurse gives Harry a warm, reassuring smile, one that he tries his best to return. He doesn't know if he succeeds. "We're gonna get you in a room, and hook you up to some really cool machines, and we're gonna make sure everything's just fine, okay?"

"Okay," Harry's voice wavers as he says it.

♛

"You look cute."

"Shut up," Harry huffs, now changed into a hospital gown. Louis' standing in front of him, wiggling his nose like a bunny when the tubes tickle a little. Harry leans his head into Louis' stomach, closing his eyes. He feels Louis rest his hands on his back. "I'm really happy you're here."

"I'm happy I'm here too," Louis says softly, rubbing Harry's back. "I feel really good, actually. Better than usual. I can walk, so. That's something."

Harry giggles a little, nuzzling his nose into the soft material of Louis' t-shirt. "I'm tired," He mumbles.

"I know, pet," Louis hums. "She's takin' a lot out of you, huh?"

"Literally," He mutters, and Louis laughs. The door opens, and Jay walks in, looking frazzled.

"I hit traffic on the way over," She says, panting a little like she had rushed to the room. "Oh my goodness, where's Lottie?"

"Cafeteria," Louis replies. "Seriously, Mum, I'm about to be a dad and you're worried where Lottie is?"

Jay rolls her eyes, but she's smiling fondly. "How do you feel, babe?" She asks Harry.

"He's tired," Louis says, and Harry's grateful. He doesn't feel like talking. He doesn't feel like doing anything except staying right here with Louis. "I think she said he's four centimetres dilated. Right, H?"

"Mhm," Harry replies quietly.

"Poor thing," Jay coos, pushing Harry's hair out of his face. Harry just sighs softly, trying to focus on the feeling of her fingers in his hair instead of the baby tearing through his arse.