Changed [stylinson]

IM Pregnant

this is not an mpreg (but if you like mpregs you should read mine mhm) okay i just could not think of another appropriate title

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"Hi, Gem." 

Gemma is sixth months pregnant and very, very irritable. Harry is holding onto one of her hands as she wobbles in through their front door huffily, her free hand placed on the small of her back, with her fading purple hair tied up messily atop her head. Louis is sat on their sofa watching, footie raging on their television, but that doesn't mean he can't still pay attention to his future sister-in-law. Especially since she's he and Harry's surrogate mother.

"Right then, where's your loo?" Gemma asks, straightening and stretching her arms; her back cracks loud enough for Louis to hear it and he takes a moment to direct his eyes toward the ceiling to thank any superior force that may exist that he doesn't have to be pregnant.

"Around the corner, same place it's always been," Louis hums. 

"'s enough out of you," Gemma snaps, waddling angrily through the front room and into the kitchen. Harry purses his lips as he closes their front door behind him, like he's afraid to laugh but also really, really wants to. Louis rolls his eyes.

"Go ahead." And Harry does: he giggles like a five year old. 

"Pregnant people are funny," says Harry, ducking his head.

"Oi!" calls Gemma, "watch your mouth! Don't think I will hesitate to smack you upside the head with this diaper bag, Styles."

Harry doesn't speak for the next ten minutes.

Gemma's generosity is very much appreciated, though. Harry and Louis have both thanked her more times than Louis thinks he's even capable of counting on his fingers and toes. It had been her idea, actually, to be their surrogate - Louis had always spoken honestly of her scary resemblance to Harry. What better way to ensure their next child share traits from both of them than to use the very egg of Harry's possibly-evil-twin?

The fact that Louis and Harry combined have enough money to send any child they have through university twenty different times and still have some to spare automatically tackled the obstacle of the price of artificial insemination - which was a must, said Harry, because there's no way Louis' dick was going anywhere close to the inside of a Styles ("I don't count, of course," Harry had reminded him). Gemma's pregnancy has been a bit of a bumpy road, especially because she loves to stop by and eat all of their ice cream before grabbing her purse and leaving with Paisley to go buy more, which is efficiently turning their daughter into a sugar-addict, but mostly because Harry is hypersensitive about everything Gemma does. He nearly followed her into the bathroom one - which nearly resulted in an intervention - but he's been getting better. 

Louis understands. He wants this to go perfectly as well. He's excited. Very excited. He's always wanted children, especially since he met Harry, and to see the physical results of that can be very pleasantly overwhelming. His hand is practically glued to Gemma's bump every time he sees her. 

So, to put it simply, they're a bit baby-crazy. 

Gemma returns with a noticeably less tense expression and plops down on the sofa, squirming for a moment until she gets comfortable, and sighing to herself. She still looks fabulous, Louis thinks, even more than halfway up the spout; those Style genes can do no wrong. Louis is so ready for this baby, thinks it's going to be the prettiest baby in the whole entire universe, and he's not even exaggerating - if Paisley is anything to go by, that is. Though Gemma's eyes are brown, Louis knows there's the green-eye gene floating around in there somewhere; he can only hope that the newest edition to their little family bears the same emerald beauties that make his knees go weak, as he isn't sure he could live with himself if their child was stuck with the boring grey-blue to match his own.