“Did you clean the table?” Harry asks Louis once Rose is done speaking, now occupied with trying to see if she can reach over and touch Harry’s hair from where she’s sat. At Louis’ nod, Harry frowns. “You didn’t have to do that. You’re my guests here, I could’ve dealt with it later.”
Louis just smiles easily, though, adjusting Rose on his lap so that she’s facing Harry better. She manages to tug on a loose wave of hair, and she makes a noise of triumph that both Louis and Harry smile at.
“I don’t mind,” Louis murmurs to Harry, even though he’s looking at Rose. “This one here seemed very excited to talk to you.”
And, okay. Harry can’t help but think of how domestic this feels, all of a sudden.
[harry is a photographer who’s trying to find his place. louis is a single father with a smile that feels like home.]
word count: 52k
one shot, complete
what the actual fUck is the deal with tiny!dan like, , , , what's the hc here. .. . . .