Harry wasn’t entirely sure how to bring up Mother’s Day with you. Leo was still young, just a little under two years old. And while he was sleeping through the night, and babbling away, he was too young to even comprehend the holiday. Harry knew you weren’t really expecting anything.

But the two of you had been together for over a year now, you lived with them, and even if Leo wasn’t yours biologically, you had made it clear he was your son.

But... Last year, the three of you had skipped over Mother’s Day. Your relationship was still treading through milestones. Meeting families, moving in… So it had been pretty much forgotten about. This year though, Harry wanted to do something for the day, he just wasn’t sure what.

He knew you enjoyed the brunch served at the place downtown, but Leo couldn’t really handle super large crowds and long days yet, both a staple for Mother’s Day brunches.

He had ordered flowers to be delivered, but that didn’t really feel like enough. He could try breakfast in bed, but you were a light sleeper and most likely not be able to sleep through the surprise.

“Gem.” He groans as he flickers through the cards in front of him. “Not only do I have no gift, there are no cards for like, adoptive moms.”

Gemma laughs softly. “H, you know she’ll love it no matter what. I’m sure it’ll mean the world to her that you want to do this.”

Harry shakes his head as he slams another card back into its slot. “I know that. I just want her to know that I appreciate her wanting to be with Leo and I.”

Gemma sighs. “She does, Harry. And she’ll love whatever you choose for her because it’s from the heart.”

Harry picks up another card and sighs. Too many of the cards were dedicated to wives, which you weren’t yet, work was so busy for the both of you planning hadn’t even really come up yet. He assumed a card from Leo would be a little easier, as long as the card didn’t mention genetics, it would work.

But Harry just couldn’t find the perfect one. Gemma sighs again when Harry doesn’t respond. “H, it’s a card. You’re overthinking it because you’re nervous. Just pick one with Leo’s favorite cartoon and she’ll love it. I have to go. I love you, bye.”

Before Harry can respond Gemma ends the call and all that’s on the other end is a dial tone. Harry looks at the cards in front him, exasperated.

“Excuse me?” He spins around and finds a woman who looks to be around your age. She’s looking up at him nervously and fiddling with the car in her hands.

Harry smiles politely. “Yeah?” He asks quietly as he steps out of the way of a teenager shuffling through cards and panicking.

She smiles up at him. “I overheard you talking and…” She glances down at the card in her hands before holding it out to him. “My mom, she isn’t my mom biologically, and cards are tough.”

Harry hesitantly takes the card and looks down at it. It’s a small card, with Winnie the Pooh, Kanga and Roo on the front. Harry’s eyes scan over the words printed on the front. “This is… This is great. Thank you. I-“

The woman smiles and shakes her head. “Mother’s Day was weird when I was young because I knew my mom wasn’t biologically my mom, but she was always there. You know?” Harry nods. “Finding good cards sucked, especially because so many talk about getting their genes or even the favorite kid jokes are awkward.”

Harry drops the card into his basket. “Thank you so much. It’s… We just got engaged and it’s her first official Mother’s Day with us. I want her to know how appreciative I am.”

“She will.” The woman takes a step back. “Anybody who is this worried about a card definitely shows how much they care without it anyways.” She smiles and offers a small wave before turning on her heel and leaving Harry alone in the aisle.

He looks down at the card again and with a newfound confidence in his ability to find something good for you, he ventures further into the store.

-

Leo’s sitting on Harry’s hip as he messed with the flowers on the dining room table. Your card is propped against the vase while the gift bag Harry had filled was next to it.

“I really hope mama likes this, little lion.” Harry murmurs as he takes a step back, finally happy with how the bouquet looks.

“Mama?” Leo questions as he rests his head against Harry’s shoulder. He lets out a yawn and Harry laughs. He had forced the poor toddler out of bed much earlier than he was used to.

Harry nods gently. “Yeah, mama. We’re gonna celebrate her today.”

“Dada.” Leo murmurs as he points haphazardly to the set up. There’s a knock on the door and Harry rushes to open it.

“Styles?” The man questions tiredly. Harry offers a sympathetic smile as he nods. He was sure this wasn't the man’s first or last breakfast delivery of the day. “Just need you to sign since you paid with a card.”

Harry adjusts Leo on his hip as he messily signs the receipt the man is holding up on the wall for him. The man looks at Harry before sighing. “Have a nice day.”

The bag handle digs into Harry’s fingers as he carries it back to the table while holding onto a sleepy Leo. “Gonna put you in your chair while I set up, then we can wake mama up.”

“Mama?” Leo repeats the word as Harry gently sets him down and straps him in. “Mama. Mama!” He calls louder, out for you.

“No! Stop!” Harry glances down the hallway panicked as he listens for any sign that you’ve woken up. When no movement comes from the hall, Harry lets his shoulders relax and begins to pull plates out of his kitchen.

It doesn’t take long to set up the already cooked food, less than half an hour before he’s picking Leo up again to go wake you up.

His nerves have been high all day, maybe all week. They’d been high since he’d begun planning this whole thing out. But right now was an all time high.

He was proud of what he’d planned, but worried you would be overwhelmed. Did you even want to celebrate? Had he gone overboard?

“Too late.” He mutters as he quietly opens your bedroom door. You’re sitting up and scrolling through your phone.

When you look up, a wide smile stretches across your face at the sight of your boys. “Good morning, loves.” You say quietly. You lock your phone and sit up straighter as Harry sits Leo in your lap.

“Mama.” Leo murmurs. He slaps his hands against your cheeks and squishes. The act makes both of you laugh.

“Hello, little lion.” You say once he’s taken his hands off. “What’s got you and daddy awake?” You look over at Harry with a knowing stare.

“We’ve got a surprise for you.” Harry says quietly. “If you wanna get up.” You nod and stand with Leo clinging to you.

You’re all still in pajamas, and Harry’s sure his hair is sticking in all different directions. The three of you make your way down the hall, Harry leading.

You freeze when you enter the dining room. Your eyes move quickly to take everything in. Harry watches nervously as he tries to gauge your reaction.

“Happy Mother’s Day.” He finally says when you take another step into the room. Leo lets out an excited, “Mama!”

You press a kiss to the baby’s head and finally move fully into the room and towards the table. “Oh, Harry.” You murmur as you look down at the spread.

“Do you… Is this okay?” He asks hesitantly. He realizes he maybe should have just bit the bullet and talked about today with you. This feeling of not knowing was killing him.

You spin around to look at him with teary eyes and a bright smile. “This is… This is more than okay. I can’t believe you did all this for me!”

He lets out a relieved laugh and leans down to press a kiss to your lips. “Anything for the best mom in the world.”

You place Leo into his chair and strap him in as Harry pulls out a chair for you. Once the three of you are settled, Harry hands the card over to you.

“Happy Mother’s Day, love.” He says quietly as you tear into the card’s envelope. “We’re so grateful for you.”

-

“How do you learn to be a mom?” asked Pooh.

“You just follow your heart,” Answered Kanga.

-

Notes: hello all. please enjoy this fluff piece for the upcoming american mother's day. hope you're all safe & doing well.

Eventually, he reasons he needs to start the day, and luckily, you roll right onto your back when he starts to shimmy away. His morning attire is always the same: a pair of training tights he needs to wiggle into, a pair of nylon workout shorts, some ratty old t-shirt he doesn’t mind sweating through, and his faithful Columbia Records hoodie. 

Today he fancies a run so he pecks a kiss to your forehead, shoes hooked on the edge of his fingertips before he tiptoes out your bedroom door. 

Sometimes Harry doesn’t have a real goal, just goes with what feels the best. Today, it’s three miles, not his furthest but he finds himself checking the time on his phone too often. Routine is something that usually eludes him, he doesn’t have the time to have the normalcy most other people do. His everyday life is vastly different from most people’s and he may have adapted a few things into his unusual daily life to keep him grounded but the groove he’s fallen into with you over the past few months is something his life has been severely lacking over the years. 

He doesn’t want eight o’clock to pass him by. He finds his footsteps moving faster, pushing off against the pavement to propel him back to the house in time. There really isn’t anything to worry about, it’s barely even seven-thirty but he’s worried he might smack straight into a pole with how his mind keeps wandering you snuggled up in bed and his phone’s clock keeps taunting him. 

Harry’s pretty good at being quiet. Occasionally, he’ll accidentally bump something to knock into a wall or kick his shoes off a little too hard but he’s very considerate. He toes off his shoes the second he’s through the door and creeps up the stairs as quietly as he can. 

When he’s back in the bedroom, it’s like you haven’t moved. Though, he can tell you have because you’ve kicked your right foot free from the covers and the sight of your bare toes make him smile. He strips off the hoodie and his shirt, tossing them half-hazardly into the laundry basket before he strips his shorts and tights and pads to the bathroom.

His shower is quick, he’s sure to peek back through the door and squint at the clock on your nightstand. He’s got twenty to spare but only takes twelve to scrub himself clean. Toweling off only takes a few more and he doesn't bother getting redressed, especially with the expensive sheets of your bed calling his name again. 

There are three minutes to spare when he slips back under covers and you’re already shifting towards him once you feel his weight on the mattress. He hums constantly, arms wrapping around you the second he can reach. The few moments he has with you asleep against him he savors. That’s what all the hustle and bustle has taught him. Those mere seconds with the person you love most in the world have to be treasured. When the world picks back up and he finds himself far away from you again, it’s these moments he holds close. 

He starts with his hand rubbings smooth circles across your back, gently lulling you awake. You groan in your sleep, stuffing your face into his neck. He laughs quietly, his body shaking against you as his warm fingertips still tracing soothingly against your skin. 

“S’time to get up, darling.” He murmurs against your forehead, lips pressing softly like a kiss. You groan again, pulling yourself against him tighter. “Early bird gets the worm,” he giggles against you and you shake your head. 

“We still have ten minutes. Less talking, more sleeping.” You mumble and he can just barely make out what you’re saying. 

“Mmm, been up for ages. I’m gettin’ lonely.”

You sigh, eyes still shut as you bask in the feeling of his hand sweeping over your skin. Though work never sounds particularly interesting, there is something almost magical about mornings with him. The way he lets you cling to him as he makes you both coffee and breakfast and lets you whine about how much you’re dreading work, making all the appropriate pout faces and sponging kisses around your grimace before he pats your bum and sends you off to your laptop.

“Gonna get up with me?” 

You open your eyes slowly, blinking against the light and rolling away from him a little to look at his face. Harry smiles fondly at you, sweeping a hand sweetly over your cheek. 

Harry smiles the same awkward, sheepish smile he does every time he becomes remotely embarrassed of the life he catches himself living. Too tired to make any decent joke, you just roll your eyes before getting out to greet the crowd of his friends.

The luxury monstrosities only slept six people and just barely. Thankfully, Jeff had managed to convince the eight other people to sleep in Cameron’s RV so you and Harry could have some privacy. But Harry sealed the deal with that dashing smile and endearingly almost-shy tone as he promises everyone you’d have your tent set up at first daylight.

You don’t make it long past dinner, dropping into Harry’s shoulder as someone tries gently cornering Harry into producing their next project.

“I’m losin’ you.” His lips are right above your ear when he mumbles it just loud enough for you to hear. He kisses your head the moment he’s finished and tilts back to catch a glimpse of your face.

“Mmm,” you stir, pressing your back firmer against him. He’s so warm, even though your thick sweaters, he’s just toasty enough to keep the chill at bay. Harry wiggles his fingertips underneath the fleece zip-up you’re wearing. His skin feels like stepping into the sunshine and rowed you straight towards sleep even harder. You hum in approval, even when he bobs the leg you were mostly settled onto. “I’m awake,” you slur, smacking his chest pathetically. Your bones might have as well been hollow.

“No, you’re not. C’mon sleepin’ beauty, let’s get you to bed.” He says, heaving you off his lap and keeping his arms steady around your waist as he follows quickly behind. You sway on your feet, peeling your eyes open in some attempt to make a sincere goodnight but really all you can manage is a meek shake of your hand towards Emmy. “Thanks again, everyone. See you in the morning!” Harry calls as he helps you up the steps to the RV and lets the door slam shut behind you.

You squint against harsh LED lights inside and Harry half laughs-half shushes the annoyed look on your face as he reaches for the dimmer.

“Where’s your suitcase, darling? What’d you like to sleep in?” He asks and you flick your wrist toward the general area before plopping down on the pull-out bed. Harry makes noises to himself as he looks for the yellow duffle bag you’d packed only a few hours ago, letting out a triumphant “ah-ha!” when he finds it buried under the discarded couch cushions.

“I’ll just sleep in my underwear,” you try to call him off, sleepily attempting to wiggle free of your jeans. Things are going smoothly till you reached your ankles and the fabric gets caught in bunches on the tops of your feet.

“S’too cold for that,” Harry says, suddenly in front of you and dropping a folded pile of your clothes next to you before he reaches for your calf. You don’t argue, just let him pull through each of your feet and cooperating as much as you can get your limp noodle of a body to. “Snug as a bug in a rug.” Harry snorts as he helps you worm your way into the tightly made bed.

“Wait! My teeth.” You yawn, holding tightly to his hand but already fluttering your eyes closed as you collaps against the pillow. “I had three lemon bars for dessert, my teeth’ll rot by morning.”

He groans in faux-annoyance but nonetheless, walks back over to your suitcase--making a big show of inside-outing your jeans and folding them back up into your bag before he fishes out your toothbrush. You giggle tiredly,  watching him through heavy lids as he wets it and loads it up with toothpaste.

“No, no, this is full service.” He tsked when you went to reach for the handle. The two of you snickered through the little routine, Harry showing off the culmination of the many nights he’d have his godchildren stay over.

“Practically sparklin’.” He smiles when he’s finished, leaning down to steal a minty kiss.

___________________________________________

Harry’s gone when you wake, off on some early morning bike ride you’re pleased to sleep through. He whispered goodbye before he left with some vague promise of being back later. He, or whichever friend had taken pity on him, had set up your tent next to Adam and Emmy’s. It’s already full of your bags and an inflated air mattress with some of Harry’s clothes already frantically strewn around to welcome you home.

It’s a cheerful welcome when you finally emerge in the dining tent with your hair somewhat sorted under a bandana and a fresh pair of shorts on. You join in on the plans to spend a few hours up at the waterfalls around bites of your eggs benedict and volunteer to help clear the table when everyone’s finished.

You have the falls to yourself when you finally reached them after an easy half-hour hike. A lake swallowed the two streams that split from a river on the cliffs just above. You only find the courage to jump from them with the group once but you’re happy to just float around most of the day. It was colder than you expected it like you’ve jumped into a pool of freshly melted ice until you swim to the shallowest part and the sun-warmed water. You keep your white long sleeve shirt on, letting it keep you cool when you hop out and protecting your skin when you decide to dip back in.

There are many fleeting thoughts of how badly you want to show this and to share this with Harry but there’s a whole week for that. Instead, you just enjoy the water and the sun and the rocks and the trees for yourself. Letting yourself grow small in the water, surrounded by laughter and splashes and birds fluttering in the distance.

You spend the whole day there easily; pruning in the water and flopping out to dry in the sun. It barely dusks you leave and it feels like it’s been a never-ending golden hour. 

The hike back to camp is a lot slower, filled with rehashing and the early reminiscing that comes with every really good day. You pass water bottles back and forth, making sure to keep each other hydrated with whatever you have left. And all the while you could feel these people, who were Harry’s, slowly starting to become yours, too.

You’re greeted with big smiles and loud “there you are!’s” as your two little groups merged back into one. Beers and spiked sodas are already in your hands before you’re even fully back in camp.

Harry’s on his feet as soon as he sees you, chunky sunglasses pushed up on his head and a flannel shirt shrugged on over his hoodie. He opens the door to your tent for you, winking at your howling friends as he zips it closed.

“Hi, there.” Is his greeting just for you sealed with a hot kiss. “Fancy a shower?”

A public shower that’s probably only cleaned once a millenia isn’t the sexiest place you imagined yourself on this trip. But it does just fine with the two of you tripping over your cheap shower shoes and Harry’s towel hung across the opening like a door. You share little tidbits about your day in between kisses and catching your breath.

Harry’s hips are too sore from his bike ride and neither of you privy to the possible risk of tetanus (or worse) for you to drop to your knees, so it’s all fingers and hands and tongues in each other's mouths. He comes first because-- like always--he’s needy and eager and can’t hold himself off with your mouth at the pressure point on his neck. You lap up his moans as he leaves them in your mouth, your fist squeezing just right around the head of his dick, his lips involuntarily frowning from how good it feels.

He pins you to the wall after that, after you lick him from your hand and show him your empty mouth. One of his knees keeps your legs open, three fingers stretching you full and his other working hypnotically over your clit. He towers himself over you, his nose to yours, the second he can tell you’re close. He groaned when you clench around his fingers, green eyes staring sternly into yours, mouths just barely touching.

Harry kisses you as you come, his body pulling yours to fit flush against him. His hands migrate from your center to hold you to him by your ass, not wanting an inch of space to come between you. He smiles against your mouth, pecking away droplets from the blissful expression still clinging to your features.

“Think anyone heard?” He asks when you’re drying off.

“Maybe,” you shrug just to tease him. He rolls his eyes, snatching up the caddy with your shampoo and soap before swinging his arm over you and starting the two of you back towards camp with his towel wrapped around his hips.