Random Harry Styles Short Stories || Completed!

Ten Little Fingers, Ten Little Toes

You'd been the one to spend eighteen months pregnant, and almost twenty hours in excruciating labor, and still your daughters were a carbon copy of their emerald eye'd father. Their curly chestnut locks and sour apple eyes we're heavenly, a bite of your husband's best features refurbished with elements of you. However, you had hoped at least one of your little Harry's would take after you interest wise.

Lilia, your oldest, showed more qualities of your quiet personality, but still she's every part her fathers high energy presence. Everyday they reminded you more and more of Harry in the little things they do.

You're sat on the sofa, helping your oldest sound out the bigger words in her favorite chapter book while your husband wrestles your youngest into a set of pajamas. She's shrieking with laughter, and by the pattering of little feet you can assume she's trying to avoid Harry's tickles.

"Do you think Daddy'll sing with us tonight?" Lilia looks at you hopefully, emerald eyes on the cusp of sleep but still slowly blinking up at you. She folds the ear of her book over while pushing into your side.

You twist your fingers through her textured curls, content with your simple moment. "You'll have to ask Daddy."

"Ask Daddy what?" Harry's disheveled against the threshold, your youngest copying his slanted stance.

She's become his shadow, a fiery ball of continual energy that doesn't dwindle only dies. She's a non-stop uplifting energy until the minute her eyes close, and usually that's in your bed against Harry's chest in the middle of a story.

Harry sings to the girls every night, and he has since you Lilia was brought into this world. Calliope's always been your little music lover, but recently Lilia's been admiring her fathers craft quite intensively. Harry's smile splits when Lilia repeats her question, and he's pushing off of the threshold in seconds.

"What are you waiting for then, love?" He taunts, racing your youngest towards the studio. "Lilia! Lovey!"

"Sissy! Mommy!" Calliope calls seconds after Harry, hardly giving you and Lilia a chance to stand from the couch before they're impatiently beckoning you towards the studio. Lilia laughs. It's your favorite sound, and she carries it down the hallways towards the study while you make the split decision of a hot chocolate treat.

The studio is sound proof, but Harry's just bought a professional karaoke machine that shakes the floorboard. He had pawned the purchase off as a business move, but hadn't been able to cover his grin when showing Calliope and Lilia the first night after setting it up: which took him hours because he stubbornly refused to let you (his vastly technologically educated wife) help.

In the time it took for the water to boil, you've determined what song the girls are singing along to, and have had to force tears out of your eyes. Harry proposed in the storage closet of an extravagant management holiday party, hands shoved into his pockets in avoidance of touching you as he used only his question to draw your focus and coax you from some variation of sensory overload. The same song played two years later at your wedding, and seven months later during Lilia's birth. Everyone thought you were mental for welcoming your marriage with Michael Bublé, and then your first daughter, but now all the best beginnings tie into this one song and overwhelm you with gratitude for your precious little family.

Calliope gets extra whipped cream, Harry gets extra marshmallows with a light topping of whipped cream to smother the mountain of sweets, and Lilia gets neither. She's quite the same as you in liking her hot drinks bare of anything sweet. It's a dangerous game making it down the hallway with three hot mugs and two hands, but you make it with a practiced pace and nudge your hip against the vibrating door.

The instrumental track pauses, microphones screech from being too close together, and Harry pulls the door open just enough to slip his head into the hallway. He smirks at the drinks you're just barely balancing, your maternal skills, like holding a plethora of heavy and hot items, being challenged.

"What's this you've got? A special delivery for me?" He reaches out and grabs the mug of hot chocolate he knows is for Lilia, turning to face your daughters with his cherry lips on the rim of the mug, ready to attack the bare chocolate treat.

Lilia makes a sound of delight, which is only audible to you because of the microphone she's still holding close to her, "Mommy made hot chocolate?!"

Harry beams at her easy excitement, having been nostalgic of the early childhood phases that now even Calliope has begun to grow out of just hours ago. Handing off the hot chocolate to your eldest daughter who hadn't even noticed the mug was prepared especially for her. Harry nudges the door open wider and invites you in with a cinnamon kiss to the temple, squeezing around your waist while Calliope shoves her nose into the mound of whipped cream.

"Mom," Lilia begins, but she's distracted milliseconds later by her little sister who's cross-eyed and trying to lick the whipped cream off the button tip of her nose. She wipes it awa for Calliope, brushing her thumb down her pants unbothered and seeming entirely grown and maternal to both Harry and yourself. "Dad says I was born to Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas."

You hum, leaning into Harry's side while he smirks behind his mug of sugar. "A lot of things happened to that song, Lil." You tell her with a smile. Harry's chest jumps at the memories, his breathy smile taking over his already beaming features. "Daddy asked me to marry him to that song, and you know how Aunt Gemma danced at her wedding?" Lilia nods, as does Calliope, but she's only half listening as she licks along the rim of her mug and collects what's barely left of her whipped cream. "Daddy and I danced to it, and you and Callie we're born to it. It's very special to me. Reminds me of all the good things in my life, like you, and Callie, and Daddy."

Lilia hums, "It's special to me too." She decides, and your heart is hammering and heavy in your chest as you listen to your baby girl find a love for the song that means so much to you, "It reminds me of Daddy, 'cause when he takes me to school, he always plays this song first when it's Christmas time, but now it reminds me of you too."

"I love you." You sniffle, collecting her into your embrace, careful of the steaming mug against your white cotton pajama top, but still squeezing your sweet girl tightly. Harry, who still has his arm wrapped around your waist, nuzzles you into his side while kissing your crown.

When Calliope rushes into Harry's legs to join the hug, your heart had never felt so full. Your eyes lock with Harry's, and in absolutely no words at all you thank each other for the beautiful family you've created, and are going to be adding to in the coming spring.