Louis, usually, could describe himself as an insomniac. He can't sleep when something isn't okay, when something's weighing on his brain and he can't get it to settle.

It's been that way since before Gracie was born. Harry would be sound asleep, and Louis would be sitting up in bed, staring at the soft baby bump between Harry's hips, trying to think of how they were going to do this.

When she was a baby and she cried too much, and they could never figure out what was wrong, Louis never slept. Even if she was silent, sleeping through the whole night, Louis was awake, worrying, standing over her cot, trying to figure out how to fix it.

When Harry first started to work more, leaving early in the morning and coming home late in the evening, Louis would find himself awake in the wee hours of the morning, stomach tight and in knots when he noticed the dark circles under Harry's eyes, or how Harry had skipped breakfast and dinner the day before.

That's how he catches Harry sprinting to the washroom at four in the morning. He's downstairs, watching infomercials and folding clothes because Gracie has gotten upset over the littlest things the past week, and Louis' worries she can sense how tense things are between him and Harry.

But, anyways. As he folds one of Harry's work shirts, he can hear Harry's quick and heavy footsteps above him, followed by the washroom door slamming shut. Furrowing his eyebrows, he sets the shirt he was folding down and stands up off the sofa, making his way upstairs.

He knocks on the door softly, not wanting to startle him. "Y'alright, love?" He asks, voice gentle.

"Yeah, 'm fine."

Twisting his mouth, Louis slowly opens the door and sees Harry sitting on the washroom floor, leaning against the wall. "You get sick?" Louis asks, and Harry nods, his eyes closed. He doesn't know if Harry wants him to, but he walks over and sits down on the floor next to him, ignoring the smell of vomit lingering in the air.

"I think I'm pregnant," Harry says, his voice so soft it's barely a whisper. Louis' chest tightens, and he whips his head towards him.

"Are you fucking with me?" He sputters, swallowing thickly.

Harry shakes his head slowly, eyes tired. "'Ve felt nauseous all week, and even more exhausted than usual," He opens his eyes, but he doesn't look over. "And my trousers are starting to get tighter."

Louis tries to stay calm, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, but it's hard. They were just starting to get better. They were just starting to be normal again. He knows he said he wanted another baby a few months ago, but holy shit, the timing could not be worse.

Finally, Harry turns his head to look at him, but Louis stares down at his lap. "Say something, please," Harry whispers, voice breaking. Louis meets his eyes, and they're glassy, and he's reminded in that moment just how sensitive and fragile Harry really is, no matter what he tries to convince everyone else. Louis knows him.

He tries to think of something to say. Something at least a little comforting. But, he can't. He just stares at Harry, and his shiny eyes and the red tip of his nose and the way his cheeks are flushing. And, after a moment, the only thing he can force out of himself is "Do...do you want a cuppa?"

This is the kind of thing Harry would usually get mad at him for saying. He'd huff and call him insensitive. But, this time, Harry laughs, and he reaches up and brushes Louis' fringe out of his face. Louis melts. "Sure," He says after a moment. Louis grins at him weakly, pushing the fact that Harry might be pregnant to the back of his mind so he can focus on trying to make things better.

He stands up, helping Harry up as well. Harry walks over to the vanity, pulling his toothbrush out of the toothbrush holder. "I'll meet you downstairs," He says around it, and all Louis can do is nod, mindlessly leaving the washroom and walking down the stairs.

The telly is still on, but he doesn't shut it off. He likes the background noise. Walking into the kitchen, he fills the kettle with water and turns the stovetop on. Harry always offers to buy him an electric one, but he likes his old one. It won't be the same.

He leans against the counter, waiting for the kettle to heat up under the dim yellow light of the kitchen. His eyes catch a picture of Gracie on the fridge, smiling brightly for the camera. It's one of her photos for school. His heart melts. She's so fucking cute, he thinks, and is, genuinely, one of his best friends. He tries not to think about how good of a big sister she would be, how obsessed she'd be over a baby brother or sister, but he can't help it.

Harry trudges down the stairs a few moments later, and it's then Louis notices he's wearing some of his joggers. Probably because they're a little looser than his own. He smiles at Louis weakly, curls a mess and eyes sleepy, and Louis wraps him up in his arms and holds him to his chest.

"I love you," Louis whispers into Harry's hair, kissing the top of his head.

"I love you too," Harry whispers back, wrapping his arms around Louis' waist and resting his head against his chest. "I'm...nervous. This is scary."

"I know," Louis sighs, running his fingers through Harry's hair. "We'll be alright. I'll buy you a test tomorrow."

"Okay," Harry buries his face into Louis' jumper. The kettle whistles, but Harry doesn't move, so Louis has to pry him off, laughing. "Heyyy."

"Let me make your tea, brat," Louis teases, and he turns around to grab two mugs out of the cabinet. It's not long before he feels Harry wrap his arms around him from behind, and he grins, shaking his head. Harry was like this when he was pregnant with Gracie–so, so clingy and cuddly and not wanting to be away from Louis for even a second. Harry had been practically attached to him the past few days, but Louis didn't think anything of it.

"Decaf," Harry reminds sleepily.

"Got it," Louis replies quietly.

They stay there, soft, standing in the kitchen at four in the morning, Louis stirring some milk into Harry's tea. "Wanna sit on the patio?" He asks, and Harry nods against his shoulder. So, he gives Harry his tea, and leads him out the sliding glass door and onto the patio.

"'S chilly," Harry mumbles, a slight pout on his face. Without a moment of hesitation, Louis sets his cuppa down on the glass table before taking his jumper off and handing it to Harry. Harry doesn't argue, he just takes it and pulls it on, grinning to himself. He sits down on one of the wicker chairs, Louis sitting in the one beside it, and Harry looks out into the back garden.

"It's a good life, isn't it?" He realises after a moment, his eyes stuck on Gracie's swing set. Louis' fallen off one of those swings more times than he'd like to be with. "I feel like I never take advantage of it."

Louis hums, taking a sip of his tea. Harry looks over at him, and Louis looks back at him. "We've both gotta slow down," He says quietly. Harry swallows thickly and nods, his free hand finding its way to his tummy.

"You're a really good father," Harry says after a moment, staring down into his tea. "Genuinely. I'm sorry if I've ever made you feel like you're not. You're an incredible dad."

Louis can't fight the grin that takes over his face. "And an incredible husband?" He asks hopefully, teasing. Harry pretends to think about it.

"I'm still training you," He says after a moment, and Louis laughs. Harry even giggles a little. The sun is just barely rising, but it's light enough for Louis to see Harry's grin. "Gracie would be a really, really good big sister."

"I was just thinking that," Louis admits. "Remember how obsessed she was with Ben's baby?" Louis can't say he's too fond of Harry's friend Ben. He's always found him a little stuck up. But, he can't deny that he and his wife did make a cute fucking baby.

"Oh my God, yeah," Harry smiles. "She would not stop asking Meredith questions. Remember when she asked her where the baby came out?"

Louis throws his head back and laughs, managing to spill a few drops of tea on his shirt. He's too blissful to care. "Holy shit, yes. You were so embarrassed."

"She is definitely your daughter," Harry shakes his head. "Such a daddy's girl."

"That's not fair," Louis points out. "She always forgets about me as soon as you come home. Papa was her first word. She's obsessed with you."

"Who wouldn't be?" Harry shrugs, and Louis rolls his eyes, but he's smiling. He wants this moment to last forever, he thinks, heart full.