Chapter Text
Louis dozed against Harry's shoulder in the back of the car, trying not to focus too hard on where they might be heading. Freddie was practically vibrating with excitement beside him, having been sworn to secrecy about whatever Harry had planned.
"Almost there," Harry murmured, his fingers threading through Louis' hair.
Louis kept his eyes closed, content to exist in this moment - his son's eager energy, Harry's solid warmth, the quiet hum of the car. Thirty-three. Christ. Sometimes it felt like yesterday he was that scared kid at X-Factor, sometimes it felt like several lifetimes ago.
The car slowed, turned. Louis felt Harry shift slightly.
"Open your eyes, love."
Louis blinked, then sat up straight as he recognized the familiar approach to Keepmoat Stadium. His throat went tight immediately.
"Dad, look!" Freddie pointed eagerly as they pulled up to the entrance.
The stadium was lit up against the December darkness, but not with its usual harsh floodlights. Thousands of fairy lights twinkled along every surface, creating a soft golden glow that made the whole place look magical.
"Haz," Louis managed, his voice already rough.
Harry just smiled, sliding out of the car and offering his hand. As Louis stepped out, he could hear music drifting from inside - not the usual match day sounds, but something softer, more intimate.
"Come on," Harry tugged him forward, Freddie bouncing ahead of them.
Louis followed in a daze as they entered through the tunnel. The pitch opened up before them and he stopped dead, overwhelmed.
The entire stadium was transformed. Fairy lights draped every tier of seating, creating waves of golden light that rippled up into the dark sky. The pitch itself had been covered with what looked like a dance floor, surrounded by elegantly set tables. And the people...
"Lou!"
Suddenly he was being crushed in a hug by Calvin, then Oli was there, then Stan. His oldest friends, the ones who'd known him before everything, who'd stuck through it all.
"Happy birthday, mate!"
"Can't believe you're properly ancient now."
"Oi!" Louis protested weakly, but he was laughing, trying to hug them all at once.
"Louis!"
He turned just in time to catch Phoebe, Daisy right behind her. His baby sisters, not so baby anymore, both of them glowing.
"You made it," he breathed, holding them tight.
"'Course we did," Daisy sniffed. "Wouldn't miss it."
"Though someone else almost did."
Louis looked up at Phoebe's words and his heart stopped. Because there was Lottie, heavily pregnant, being carefully helped to a seat by her husband.
"Lots, I thought you couldn't travel right now," he choked out.
"Surprise," she smiled wetly. "Baby's not due for two weeks, I wasn't missing this. I'll probably pay for it later."
Louis made his way to her carefully, aware he was properly crying now. She pulled him down into a fierce hug.
"He did good, didn't he?" she whispered, nodding toward Harry who was watching from a distance, giving Louis space with his family.
"Yeah," Louis managed. "He really did."
The night unfolded like a dream. All his favorite foods appeared at perfectly timed intervals. The music was a carefully curated mix of everything he loved, from punk rock to old school hip hop to the cheesy pop he'd never admit to loving. His friends and family moved around him in a constant flow of love and laughter.
Louis was mid-laugh at something Stan had said when the music faded out. He turned to see Harry standing by the DJ booth, microphone in hand, looking nervous in a way Louis hadn't seen in years.
"Hi, everyone," Harry's voice carried across the stadium, deep and slow. "Thank you all for being here tonight."
The crowd quieted, gathering closer. Louis felt Oli's steadying hand on his shoulder.
"I had this whole speech planned," Harry continued, his dimple showing as he smiled. "About how Louis Tomlinson is the bravest person I've ever known. About how he faces every challenge head-on, how he loves so fiercely it takes your breath away."
Harry's eyes found Louis' across the space between them. "I was going to talk about how he's the best father, the most loyal friend, the strongest brother. How he makes everyone around him feel special just by being himself."
Louis' vision blurred as Harry's voice roughened. "But then I realized - you all already know that. Everyone in this stadium tonight is here because they've experienced that love, that loyalty, that strength. We're all here because Louis Tomlinson changed our lives just by being in them."
Harry paused, swallowing hard. "So instead of telling you what you already know, I thought I'd share something new. Something that shows exactly who Louis is through the eyes of someone who loves him most."
The opening notes were soft - a piano melody that made Louis' breath catch. Then Freddie's voice filled the stadium:
"My dad's like... he's kind of magic, you know? Even when he's far away, he makes everything better."
The voice was layered over the music perfectly, Freddie's LA accent clear and sweet. More piano notes, then:
"Sometimes I miss him so much it hurts. But then he'll call and make these stupid jokes and do all these funny voices and suddenly everything's okay again."
Louis spun to find Freddie, who was grinning from between Daisy and Phoebe, clearly in on it the whole time.
"He always says 'I love you to the moon and back' but that's not far enough, 'cause sometimes he has to go further than the moon. So I say 'I love you to infinity' and he says 'Plus one' and that means he'll always come back."
The music swelled, other instruments joining in as Freddie's voice continued, talking about football matches watched over FaceTime, about late night calls when he couldn't sleep, about how his dad made him feel brave even when they were apart.
"And now Harry's back and Dad's smiling all the time again. Like, real smiles, not the tired ones. And I remember when I was little, they used to sing me to sleep together. I pretended to be asleep but I could hear them laughing in the hallway after. I think... I think that's what love sounds like."
Louis was openly crying now, Harry's arms suddenly around him from behind.
"My dad's a superhero," Freddie's voice declared confidently as the music built to a crescendo. "But like, a secret one. The kind that saves people just by loving them. And I'm really lucky 'cause I get to be his son."
The music gentled back to those opening piano notes as Freddie's voice softened: "I love you to infinity, Dad."
The last notes faded into silence. Louis turned in Harry's arms, unable to speak.
"Plus one," Harry whispered, wiping Louis' tears with his thumbs.
Then Freddie crashed into them both, and Louis dropped to his knees to hold his son properly, while Harry's hand stayed steady on his back, anchoring them all together under the thousands of twinkling lights.
The silence held for one breathless moment before the stadium erupted. Louis could hear Lottie sobbing (though she'd blame it on hormones later), Oli and Calvin whistling loudly, Stan shouting something that was lost in the general chaos. But it was Luke's "Fucking hell, Styles!" that broke the tension, making everyone laugh through their tears.
Freddie pulled back from Louis' embrace, looking uncertain. "Was it okay?"
"Okay?" Louis choked out. "Come here, you absolute legend." He pulled Freddie close again, pressing kisses to his hair. "Best birthday present ever. How long have you been plotting this with these two menaces?" He gestured at Harry and the twins.
"Since yesterday," Freddie grinned, proud now. "Aunt Phoebe said we had to do it when you weren't around, and Harry's friend helped make it sound good."
"Proper brilliant is what it was," Louis managed, finally standing but keeping an arm around Freddie's shoulders.
The crowd surged forward then - more hugs, more tears, more exclamations about the song. Louis watched as person after person pulled Harry into fierce embraces, saw Lottie grab Harry's hand and say something that made his eyes go wet.
As the initial excitement settled, Louis noticed Freddie trying to hide his yawns.
"Alright love?" he asked softly.
"'m not tired," Freddie protested immediately, but he was swaying slightly where he stood.
Lottie waddled over (though Louis knew better than to use that word). "Think that's my cue. Lewis' already has the car ready."
"You don't have to-" Louis started.
"Please," Lottie cut him off. "I need my bed and this one," she ruffled Freddie's hair, "needs his sleep. Everyone is coming to mines tomorrow anyway. Besides," she smirked, "I have a feeling the next part of the evening isn't exactly child-friendly."
Harry appeared as if summoned. "Got his overnight bag in the car already. And the security detail is ready."
Of course he'd thought of everything. Louis hugged Freddie tight, breathing in the smell of his hair. "Thank you for my song, darling. Best present ever."
"Love you to infinity," Freddie mumbled against his chest.
"Plus one," Louis whispered back. "Always."
He watched as Lewis helped both Lottie and Freddie into the car, waited until they'd disappeared into the night. When he turned back, the atmosphere had already shifted.
The soft lighting had taken on a different quality - less romantic, more club-like. The DJ was setting up something new, and Louis spotted several familiar faces from various clubs in London joining the crowd.
"Phase two?" he asked Harry, who was watching him with dark eyes.
"If you're up for it."
Louis pulled him close by his shirt front. "Always up for it with you, love."
The music shifted dramatically - heavy bass thrumming through the stadium as bottles appeared from somewhere. Louis recognized the opening notes of one of their old favorites from nights out in LA.
"Did you seriously turn Keepmoat into a nightclub?" he shouted over the music.
Harry's grin was wicked. "Maybe!" He pressed a shot into Louis' hand. "Drink up, birthday boy!"
The night blurred into flashes after that - dancing with Calvin and Oli like they were twenty again, Harry's hands on his hips, the twins showing off moves that made Louis want to cover his eyes, Stan trying to recreate their old choreography and failing spectacularly.
At some point, Louis found himself in the center of it all, Harry plastered against his back, moving together like no one was watching (though everyone definitely was). The music pounded through him, the vodka sang in his veins, and Harry's lips found that spot behind his ear that made him shiver.
"Having a good birthday?" Harry's voice was rough in his ear.
Louis turned in his arms, pulled him down into a proper kiss, ignoring the whoops and whistles around them. "Best one yet," he said against Harry's lips. "Take me home?"
Harry's eyes darkened. "Not done with you yet, birthday boy."
And as Harry pulled him back into the dance, Louis thought hazily that thirty-three was shaping up to be a very good year indeed.
As midnight approached, Harry caught Louis' eye across the dance floor, tilting his head subtly toward the tunnel. Louis felt his pulse quicken at the familiar mischievous glint in Harry's eyes.
They slipped away from the crowd, the music fading to a distant thrum as they made their way through the familiar corridors. Louis' heart was racing, remembering countless similar escapes in venues across the world.
The locker room was pitch black when they first entered, until Harry found the switch. Harsh fluorescent lights buzzed to life, casting stark shadows across the tile walls.
"Bit different from Wembley," Louis joked, voice rough as Harry crowded him against the wall.
"Shut up," Harry murmured, already sinking to his knees. "It's your birthday."
"Almost," Louis managed, breath hitching as Harry's fingers found his belt. "Few more minutes."
Harry glanced up, eyes dark. "Then I better make them count."
The music was just a distant pulse now, matched by Louis' racing heart as Harry showed him exactly how special this birthday was going to be.
Later, significantly more disheveled, they slipped back into the party. Calvin raised an eyebrow at Louis' flushed face but said nothing, just handed them both fresh drinks as the celebration continued around them.
Harry's satisfied smirk lasted the rest of the night.
The harsh December morning light filtered through the curtains of Louis' grandparents' spare room. His head throbbed slightly - more from exhaustion than alcohol - as he carefully extracted himself from Harry's arms.
"Time is it?" Harry mumbled, reaching for him.
"Half six," Louis whispered. "Got to be at the hospital by eight."
Harry's eyes opened fully then, understanding dawning. "Want me to make coffee while you shower?"
Louis pressed a kiss to his temple. "Please. Need to look somewhat presentable."
While Louis showered, he mentally reviewed the list he'd memorized. Timothy, age 6, terminal leukemia, obsessed with dinosaurs - Louis had found a rare animatronic T-Rex that actually responded to voice commands. Sarah, 12, going on her third year in long-term care, loved art - he'd gotten her professional-grade supplies and convinced a local artist to give her virtual lessons.
He dressed carefully - comfortable but put-together. The parents needed to trust him, to know he took this seriously.
Downstairs, Harry had coffee and toast waiting. Oli was already there, laptop open, triple-checking delivery schedules and gift locations.
"Everything's sorted," Oli assured him. "All 47 presents are labeled and organized by ward. I've got the special delivery for Jenny's room..." he trailed off, seeing Louis' face tighten.
Jenny was nine. This would be her third Christmas in the hospital. Last year she'd barely been able to speak, but she'd lit up at the fairy lights Louis had strung around her room. Her mom had told him yesterday that this would likely be Jenny's last Christmas.
"Added extra lights this year," Oli said softly. "The color-changing ones she liked from the catalog."
Louis nodded, unable to speak for a moment. Harry's hand found his under the table, squeezing gently.
"I'll wait in the car," Harry said quietly. They both knew he couldn't go in - it would draw too much attention, and this wasn't about them. This was about the kids, about giving them one bright moment in the midst of their struggles.
The drive was silent, Louis reviewing his mental notes about each child. He knew their stories, their fears, their hopes. Knew which ones put on brave faces for their parents, which ones were angry at the world, which ones just wanted to feel normal for a moment.
In the hospital parking lot, Harry pulled him close before he got out. "You're amazing," he whispered. "I'll be here when you're done."
Louis pressed their foreheads together briefly, drawing strength. Then he straightened, nodded to Oli, and headed inside.
No cameras would capture the next few hours. No one outside would know about the mother who broke down crying when Louis remembered her son's favorite superhero, or the teenager who finally smiled for the first time in weeks when she opened her new guitar, or the tiny boy who insisted on showing Louis every single dinosaur fact he'd learned since last Christmas.
And if Louis had to step into the stairwell occasionally to compose himself, if some of the presents were slightly damp from tears as he handed them out, if he held some of the parents longer than strictly necessary - well, that was between him and the quiet hospital halls.
Because this wasn't about being Louis Tomlinson, celebrity. This was about being human, about showing these families fighting the hardest battles that they weren't alone. That someone remembered them, cared about their stories, wanted to bring a bit of light to their darkest days.
And when he finally emerged hours later, emotionally drained but knowing he'd done what he could, Harry was there waiting, ready to hold him while he processed it all. Ready to listen as Louis told him about Jenny's smile when she saw the lights, about Timothy's dinosaur roar, about Sarah's newest paintings.
Ready to love him through the weight of it all, and help him carry the hope that next Christmas, some of these rooms would be empty - not because of tragedy, but because their occupants had finally gone home.
Louis had barely managed to process the emotional morning at the hospital before they were herding Gran and Grandad toward their coats, Harry quietly packing up the few overnight things they'd brought.
"You're sure you don't want to stay?" Gran asked for the third time, watching Louis adjust his cream cardigan. "It's not too late to do Christmas like we always have..."
"Lots can't travel, Gran," Louis reminded her gently. "And the little ones should wake up in their own homes on Christmas morning. Start their own traditions, yeah?"
She nodded, but her eyes were suspiciously bright. Louis pretended not to notice as he helped Grandad with his scarf.
"Besides," Harry added softly, "you'll have everyone at Lottie's tonight. And FaceTime tomorrow."
"It's not the same," Grandad said gruffly, but he squeezed Harry's shoulder as he passed.
The drive to Lottie's was a parade of cars - Gran and Grandad following Louis and Harry, who followed Daisy and Phoebe, their little convoy winding through the streets like a string of Christmas lights, all still connected even as they stretched in different directions.
Lottie answered the door in what appeared to be three different Christmas jumpers layered over each other. "Before anyone asks, it's hormones," she announced. "I'm cold and emotional about everything."
The house was chaos - exactly as Christmas Eve should be. Lewis was attempting to wrangle Lucky while simultaneously checking the turkey. The twins were supposedly helping in the kitchen but seemed to be mostly taking photos for their social media. Phoebe's boyfriend was entertaining Olive with some rather dramatic puppet shows using her stuffed animals. Freddie, who'd stayed over with his cousins the night before, was already deep in some elaborate game he'd invented with Lucky and Olive, involving what looked like a complex system of pillow forts.
Louis caught Daisy very deliberately arranging his cardigan over the back of Gran's empty chair, angling her phone just so.
"Really?" he asked, amused. "Baiting the fans on Christmas Eve?"
"What?" she asked innocently. "It's a nice cardigan. Very aesthetic. The fact that it might drive Tumblr insane trying to decode the meaning of 'pleasure is pain' is purely coincidental."
"Just keep H out of frame," he warned, but he was grinning. Let them analyze his fashion choices. It was practically a holiday tradition at this point.
The dinner itself was lovely - if slightly chaotic. There were tears (mostly Lottie), laughter (mostly at Lottie's tears), and several near-disasters with the gravy boat. But beneath the noise and chaos was an undercurrent of bittersweetness.
Tomorrow morning, Louis and Harry would wake up in their own home, FaceTime the family while they opened presents, then head to Holmes Chapel to spend the day with Anne, Gemma, her husband and their little one. Freddie would be waking up in LA with his mum, opening the presents they'd carefully packed in his carry-on. Lottie would stay put with her growing brood. Phoebe would do Christmas morning with just her little family. They were growing up, spreading out, creating their own traditions.
"You okay?" Harry murmured, finding Louis staring at his empty plate.
"Yeah," Louis said softly. "Just... end of an era, innit?"
Harry squeezed his knee under the table. "Beginning of a new one though."
Louis looked around the table - at Gran showing Lucky how to fold napkins into shapes that the toddler immediately crumpled, at Lottie and Daisy conspiring in the corner, at Phoebe helping Olive carefully cut her turkey while her boyfriend made faces to keep the little one giggling. Freddie was telling an elaborate story about his video game, complete with sound effects that had Lucky in fits of giggles. Different, yes. But still family. Still love.
"Yeah," he agreed, leaning into Harry slightly. "New beginnings."
Daisy's phone buzzed repeatedly - presumably her Snapchat blowing up over the cardigan reveal. Louis caught her eye and winked. Some things would never change - like his sister's ability to cause chaos with a single photo, or the fans' dedication to analyzing every detail of their lives.
But some things had to change, had to grow. Like families expanding, like children creating their own Christmas memories, like love taking new shapes while keeping its core intact.
Besides, Louis thought as Harry's hand found his under the table, some changes were definitely worth it. Even if it meant having to say goodbye to Freddie early, watching him wave excitedly from the security line at the airport later that night, overnight bag packed with carefully wrapped presents to open on Christmas morning in LA. The goodbyes were worth it to see his son's face light up as he tried to teach his baby cousins the proper way to build a house out of dinner napkins, to know that he was loved and celebrated in all his homes. Especially the one home that had always been his true home. The one that wasn't a place, but a person.
Back home, Louis sprawled across their sofa, head in Harry's lap while he scrolled through his phone. The house was quiet now - almost too quiet after the chaos of dinner and the emotional airport goodbye with Freddie.
"'The talented Louis Tomlinson,'" he read out, showing Harry his screen. "Since when do MTV and Radio 1 call me talented in their birthday posts?"
Harry's fingers carded through his hair. "Have you seen what your fans are doing though? That compilation of all your self-written bridges is actually incredible."
"Yeah," Louis said softly, watching a fan-made video that tracked his journey from X-Factor to now. "They've always been like that though, haven't they? Dead supportive. Think I've seen about fifty different edits of that bit from Made in the A.M. sessions where I'm working out the 'Home' harmonies."
"The one where you're conducting with a teacup?" Harry grinned. "That's because it's adorable. And brilliant."
Louis hummed, typing out his tweet: "Thank you for all the birthday messages! Been a lovely day with family. Sending love to you all. Have a great day tomorrow"
He scrolled through the responses, shaking his head fondly at the flood of fan photos and video edits. "Look at this - someone's made a whole thread of every time I've talked about writing 'Copy of a Copy of a Copy.' Proper detailed, that."
"They've always known how good you are," Harry said softly. "Remember that fan project where they tracked down every song you'd ever written, even the unreleased ones?"
"Still can't believe they found that demo from 2012. Think I'd forgotten about it myself."
His phone buzzed with more birthday messages - media outlets keeping it simple with "talented" and "star," but his fans filling in all the spaces between with their endless encyclopedic knowledge of his career, their passionate defenses of his artistry, their pure love for not just his music but him as a person.
"This one's got every time I've ever mentioned Sheffield Wednesday," Louis laughed. "With timestamps!"
"That's nothing - remember the spreadsheet they made of every song you've ever referenced as an influence?"
"Could probably write my biography at this point, couldn't they?"
Harry pulled him closer, pressing a kiss to his temple. "They already have. Several times. With citations."
"Massive nerds, the lot of them," Louis said fondly, already feeling sleep tugging at him. It had been a long day - hospital visits and family dinners and airport goodbyes. But a good day. A proper birthday.
His phone buzzed one more time, but he left it. The industry's simple acknowledgments were nice, but it was the fans - with their meticulous documentation of every lyric, every laugh, every small moment that made him who he was - who'd always seen him clearly. Them, and Harry, who'd never needed convincing. That was worth more than any official recognition in the world.