Harry inhaled deep and took a mental stock of his body without opening his eyes. His bladder twinged, there was the ever-present ache in his lower back and he could do with some food. Behind him, Louis shuffled closer and burrowed his nose in Harry’s neck near his scent glad. “Did you have a good nap?” came the raspy voice of his Alpha, lips moving against skin. “Hmm,” Harry hummed, smiling. Even now, seven months into the pregnancy, it still baffled it him how attuned Louis had become to him; often waking up only moments before Harry or being able to notice even the smallest changed in scent.

Louis lets himself drop flat again with a laugh, knocking the wind out of Niall's lungs. “Determined to do the sappy shit, aren’t you? Right then, go on.” Louis props his chin on his hand, his elbow shoved into the grass at Niall’s armpit. “Give me your best shot.” Niall reaches up to cradle Louis’ beloved face in his hands, pulling all the sincerity he can muster into his voice. “Louis Tomlinson, I love you not because of what you can do for me, but because of who you are. I’m glad you’re here because I want to be around you, because I like you and want to be with you.” He grins at Louis’ scrunched up expression. “There, how’s that.” “Absolutely disgusting,” Louis tells him, rolling his eyes. “That good for you? Amelia go for that, does she?” “Eats it up with a spoon,” Niall agrees, “and so do you, but you can’t let yourself admit it.” “Yeah, yeah, keep telling yourself lies.” “Lou,” Niall grabs his face again, waiting until Louis meets his eyes. “I love you.” “Yeah, yeah.” Louis gives him a fond grin, and starts to push up. Niall lets him go, watches the play of muscles in his torso as Louis presses his body upright and holds down a hand to help Niall off the ground. “I love you, too, you Irish pain in my arse.”