He begins noticing little things about a week after she's told him.
First it's the children's clothes shop he runs past each morning, the little pink and blue outfits hanging in the window he can suddenly imagine hanging on the washing line, fluttering between his jeans and Nikki's shirts. There's going to be little shoes lying around one day, he realises, and little socks with sailing boats on them strewn across the living room floor.
He has to slow his jog and peer through the glass window, suddenly apart of a world he's never had reason to enter before. He's a parent now, someone who will know the difference between tiny and even tinier sizes of clothing; someone who will tie shoelaces and ribbons for his son or daughter.
His breath fogs up the windowpane in the early morning so he steps back from the world of pink ballerina's and toy cars. He makes a mental note to come back here someday, maybe when Nikki begins showing, or with his child held to his chest. That yellow duck in the corner looks mighty cute.
Within days he's begun smiling at babies on the street. Noting the way they sleep and cry and peer out at the world. He notices the bags under the eyes of parents pushing strollers and with a surge of pride realises that will soon be him. When Janet's three year old nephew comes storming through the lab one day he takes extra time to attempt a chat with the youngster, getting as far as good morning before the little boy is off chasing his imaginary friend and Harry is off chasing him.
Nikki just laughs, golden ringlets falling around blushing cheeks, and makes sure she takes the time to whisper huskily in his ear that she hopes he'll take better care of their own child.
When Leo and Janet turn up moments later he's still staring blankly out the door.
"He's been like this for weeks," comments Leo, shaking his head in confusion. Janet merely smiles knowingly and Harry gets the sinking feeling his secret may soon be out.
By the time they build up the courage to inform Leo of their relationship both he and Nikki have chickened out of telling him the other half of the story.
Nikki believes it's safest to wait until 3 months, just in case. Harry couldn't be happier not to divulge the information, and wonders out loud if they really have to inform Leo at all. Surely turning up one morning with their child would get the message across much clearer.
"Harry," informs Nikki, and she has that look in her eye and in her smile that just screams you-total-wimp. "I think he may notice beforehand."
Harry notices, of course.
He sees the subtle change in the way she lies in bed, never on her stomach now, and whilst he likes to think it's so he has unlimited access for midnight conversations with the baby, she informs him it's because her breasts have become tender.
He's mighty interested in this phenomenon, and even takes the time to poke at her gently until she bats his hand away.
"When I say tender," she growls, "I mean terribly sore."
Each morning when she awakes he feels the bed dip dramatically, hears her skid across the floorboards bare foot until the bathroom light floods the bedroom. In his line of work he's gotten used to an all matter of sights, sounds and smells, but he doesn't think he'll ever get used to morning sickness.
He learns early on she doesn't want him there immediately, so instead he waits a minute, gives his brain ample time to catch up with the physical world, before slipping from the warmth of bed to pad towards her.
There's a blanket by the toilet that she's wrapped herself in and as he settles beside the bathtub he tugs her gently to his chest. He kisses the top of her head and because she's not fond of talking when her chest and throat burn, he hums along lightly to the song playing on the radio.
The smile she gives makes the unease he feels at seeing her sick abate slightly, and whilst he will always feel terrible whenever she's in pain, he can't help but marvel at the process. This is a part of their baby after all.
"When this is all over," he whispers, pressing his lips to her hairline, "You'll have to come for a walk with me in the morning. I found a baby shop the other day that I've never noticed before."
"Are you going to take me baby shopping, Harry?" she croaks, and even amongst the nausea and dizziness he can hear the sarcasm masking giddiness.
"There's a yellow duck I want," he informs her simply, and she shakes with silent giggles.
Moments later she's thrown from his chest towards the toilet bowl and the morning bathroom ritual resumes.
She's two months along now, and they still haven't told anyone. Not Leo and Janet, or Harry's mother. Nikki's adamant in her refusal of telling her father, and Harry, quite happy with the arrangement, doesn't push. After all, she grumbles, if he couldn't find the time to inform her of his marriage she's not going to make the effort to tell him this.
Harry does want to tell his mother, however, and so with slightly shaking hands sets off after work one day. He's asked Nikki to let him do this himself, had quipped that it meant she had to tell Leo, and though she'd hit him harshly in the arm she'd gripped his fingers moments later, squeezing gently.
It's little moments like that that make him wonder how he ever survived without her so long, before he realises he hadn't. He had clung to her just as much beforehand, caught amidst the exquisite pain of unrequited love, where he'd fall asleep only to see her in his dreams each night.
---
It's a bright afternoon when he sees his mother, one of the last of autumn, and he relishes the feeling of the rapidly falling sun.
Their child will be born in the spring, he realises, and when his mother opens the door he is a million miles away.
"Harry, come in darling," calls his mother, and she has to brush a hand to his arm to catch his attention.
He wanders through the house and notices the scattered pictures across the wall. There's one of him as a baby and he peers at it closely, committing the face to memory so that he may one day see if his child resembles him. A photo of his father catches his eye, one he's sure he's never seen before. It's tucked between books and trinkets on the shelves and so he picks it up, feeling his stomach clench in grief.
Seven year old Harry sits a top his fathers knee, fishing rod dwarfing his small stature whilst his father grins happily at the camera. He remembers that day, the smell of the river, a mangy, earthy concoction that stained his jeans and jacket after he spent the morning knee deep amongst the fish. He remembers the feel of his father enclosed around him, teaching him how to hold the rod, wind in the reel and hook the bait. His fathers strong arms had held fast a top his own as they swung the rod out towards the river, and Harry had cheered and laughed as hours later their first fish had been reeled in.
"Where did you find that?" admonishes his mother. She tuts at him but smiles knowingly, holding a cup in each hand.
"I'm having a baby in the spring," he says suddenly, and his mother spills tea down her hands.
A minute later he has her cleaned up, and as he sips slowly at what's left of his drink he feels his mothers eyes bore down on him.
"It may be the burn talking Harry, but I could have sworn you told me you were having a baby in spring."
"You heard correctly."
There's a moment stretched across eternity as he clears his throat, the lump there growing thicker.
"Please tell me you haven't gotten some poor girl pregnant?" begs his mother, but he can see the beginnings of a smile and feels some of the weight across his shoulders lessen.
He shakes his head with a grin and informs her he's happily settled down. He can see the information tick over and his mother watches him carefully. He's not stupid, and neither is she; she knows Nikki, and he's aware she quite adores her.
"You…have you?" she asks quietly, glancing at him knowingly.
Moments later, as tears sting at his mothers eyes, he's quite certain that accidentally getting Nikki pregnant (even if they are in a relationship) is the best decision he's ever made, and as his mother hugs him close to her he hopes one day they'll be a similar picture of him and his child hung on the wall.
"You're are going to be such a good father, Harry, please believe that."
---
They've hit three months when Harry is awoken by a missile landing across his stomach. His about to throw it off when he realises the projectile is in fact Nikki, gleeful and grinning and giggling more than he's ever seen her.
She climbs over him, elbows and knees sticking into his sides until her face and body are pressed as close to him as possible, and whilst he's not complaining, he's sorely confused as to what's happened.
"You been at the sugar again?" he asks huskily, leaning forward to press his lips to her forehead. Her cheek follows, then her nose, and by the time he's at her lips she's shaking with giggles once more.
It's infectious, her laughter, and utterly adorable. He wraps his arms around her middle and rests freezing hands to her stomach. She jumps back and squeals at the cold, but instead of merely batting his hands away she tugs at him, hauling him up so that she can clamber across the bed towards the mirror.
She's wearing his shirt from the day before, and as she lifts it from her body he realises its all she's wearing. Standing side on to the mirror he remembers quite clearly how he lost that shirt the night before, the feel of her pressed to him and the utter bliss at her falling asleep bare in his arms.
She's impatient now, he can tell, and wonders what exactly she wants him to notice beside her bare flesh.
"Harry," she whines, and beckons him closer. He clambers from the bed, if not a little stiffly, and tugs at his pyjama bottoms. She has him by the hands and pressed to her back in no time, letting his fingers squash against her firm stomach as she raises an eyebrow at him.
He gets it, suddenly, wonderfully, and understands completely why she's so giddy.
"Well hey there bump," he murmurs gently, and before she can stop him he's swiveled round to crouch by her stomach. He pokes and prods and grins at her, the tiniest swell not visible to any but those explicitly looking for it. She'll still have weeks before anyone else notices, but for now this little bump is their secret.
"Did you know that by now the baby is kicking, and moving, even if I can't feel it yet. It's the size of a peach."
"A peach, huh?" he asks incredulously. "I'm going to call you peach from now on," he murmurs, and places a kiss to the bump.
---
Leo's office is erringly quiet as they await his arrival.
Three months was their cut off date, the point of no return, and Harry suddenly wishes he could have a little longer with his secret. Peach, as he'd decided to call the baby that morning, is nestled safely under layers of clothing, and whilst Harry would love to rest his hand there he's quite certain Nikki would not agree.
He's amazed they've been able to keep the secret this long; the first trimester of pregnancy isn't exactly uneventful - at least they'd been able to mask the majority of morning sickness with the flu. Despite this Harry's convinced Janet's known for weeks, and begins to wonder if Leo too is in on the secret.
"What have you done now?"
Harry swivels in surprise as Leo hangs his coat up, watching them both as he crosses to his desk. Ever since the revelation of their relationship he's been terrified of them both springing him in his office.
"If you've fought or are breaking it off I'm telling you both you're fired, by the way," he adds, and all three know it's an empty threat.
"Actually, we were wondering if you and Janet will join us for dinner this evening?" asks Nikki suddenly, and Harry wonders when on earth that came up. Minx, he realises, turning to glare at her, she's drawing this out to torture him. That or she's as terrified of telling Leo as he is.
"I'll have to check in but that sounds fine," smiles Leo, glancing between the pair. Nikki's looking awfully relaxed, and he's glad she's gotten over that nasty bought of the flu. He'd hated seeing her so tired each morning, and she wasn't exactly happy being relegated to paperwork most days.
"Yours or Harry's?" he asks them, watching the flicker of recognition that passes between the pair. "That is unless the reason you're sitting in here is to inform me you've moved in together?"
Harry's mouth is hanging open, ready for words that his brain isn't supplying, and Leo realises he's been oddly silent all morning. He hopes he hasn't caught the flu, then again with the amount of time the two are spending together now he probably has.
"Well, not officially," murmurs Nikki, before glancing at her partner. Harry's eyebrows skyrocket, before he clears his throat.
"But I guess unofficially we have," he manages to croak. He furrows his eyebrow. "Do you want to?" he asks suddenly.
"Are you asking me to move in with you Harry?"
"Umm…yes?"
He glances at Leo for help.
"You are hopeless sometimes Harry Cunningham, utterly hopeless," she grins, turning to Leo. "Harry's place it is," she informs with a giggle.
Before either man can comment she has bounced from her seat, skipping out the door towards the lab.
Harry blinks twice, simultaneously relieved that he's managed to escape telling Leo about Peach, but now dreading the rest of the morning and the afternoon and especially the evening.
He glances at an amused Leo for help.
"Did she just move in with me?"
