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Miami is hot. It's June and the heat is oppressive, the air viscous so that Harry feels like he's moving through syrup and his skin is sticky with sweat the moment he steps off the tour bus.
It's only their second show on the US leg of the tour, and it goes well. The audience is receptive, so loud that when he takes his in-ear out so that Zayn can whisper to him about a particularly racy sign in the third row, he thinks he might go partially deaf from the screaming. It's not much better after the show, either. They've got the next day off so that they can take their time with the long drive to Louisville, so they've finagled a hotel night. But somehow, someone found out where they're staying and tweeted about it, and after fighting through the crowd of girls outside the venue, Harry's shoulders sag a little at the sight of the cluster of fans gathered outside their hotel.
He crashes that night, barely manages to toe off his shoes and strip off before faceplanting into bed - "you might not want a shower first, Hazza, but I am not a barbarian." He doesn't stir when Louis slides between the sheets a short while later and fits his body around him (despite being unshowered, his skin slightly tacky with dried sweat), doesn't wake up until his alarm goes off the next morning.
He’d needed a shower before checking out, so the other lads are all already on the bus by the time Harry trudges out the back entrance of the hotel. Harry gives Liam a tired smile, squeezes the back of Niall's neck as he passes them to get to the bunks. Relishing the cool, quiet darkness of the bus, he drops his overnight bag onto Louis' empty bunk, peels off his sweatpants and t-shirt, and crawls into his own. Louis is already there, curled around a pillow, eyes drooping half-shut as he scrolls absently through his twitter feed. He shifts over when he feels the bed dip, looks over his shoulder at Harry with a sleepy smile.
Harry drapes himself over his back, knees tucked up behind Louis', presses his palm over Louis' belly. He digs his fingers in a little as he wiggles closer, as close as he can get, and Louis giggles. "Haz, that tickles!"
Harry just snuffles into the back of Louis' hair and mouths sleepily at the skin at the nape of his neck, smiles a little when Louis squirms against him. Eventually, he drifts back off, vaguely registering when Louis lays a hand over his, slots his fingers down between Harry's and squeezes.
Someone shakes Harry awake several hours later. He rolls over and looks up to see Niall grinning down at him.
"Buh?" He says eloquently and Niall chuckles, traces his fingers over the pillow marks on Harry's cheek. Harry leans into it automatically, tugging on Louis a little where his arm is still wrapped around his waist.
"Rest stop. Some tourist attraction, I dunno. Should be there in about half an hour, might wanna get yourself up."
Harry mumbles thanks and turns back over, snuggles into Louis who's lying there tapping away on his tablet, not paying any attention to them.
"Don't go back to sleep," Louis calls over his shoulder a moment later, reaches a hand back to scratch lightly at Harry's scalp. Harry stretches into it like a cat, hums contentedly in his throat.
"Where are we?" Harry's voice is sleep-rough, and he feels a shiver ripple down Louis' spine. When Louis answers, he sounds slightly breathless.
"Somewhere in Georgia. Not reached Atlanta yet. ‘Bout halfway, I suppose."
Harry watches Louis play fruit ninja through bleary eyes for a few minutes before Louis pauses the game and turns over in the bracket of Harry’s arms. Harry’s eyelids flutter when Louis traces a finger down his nose, and Louis smiles. “We should get dressed.”
Harry hums and buries his face in Louis’ chest. His mumbles are muffled by the fabric of Louis’ shirt. “Don’t wanna. Let’s just stay on the bus.” He tips his head back, waggles his eyebrows. “We could have some private time while the others do touristy things.”
Louis laughs softly, murmurs, “Tempting,” before he presses his thumb to Harry’s chin so his bottom lip pulls away from the top. He leans in and licks at the little dip in the cupid’s bow of Harry’s top lip, then pulls back, eyes a shade darker. “Very tempting.”
Something bangs against the wall outside their bunk a moment later, and Harry jumps a little, tears his eyes away from Louis’. He can see the side of Zayn’s arm dangling from where he’s standing just out of sight, jerking around as he pulls on a pair of jeans.
With a sigh, Harry unwraps his arms from around Louis, pats his hip. “Maybe next time.”
He rolls away, and they both clamber out of the bunk to join Zayn in the aisle.
It turns out they're in a small town called Ashburn, home of -
"The world's largest peanut?" Zayn asks, incredulous, and Liam laughs. The tour bus rumbles to a stop and the boys stumble out the door, grateful for some fresh air after being cooped up in the bus for seven hours.
It's hot, sun high in the sky, but it's not quite as bad as Miami. Harry rolls his sleeves up and slips sunglasses on, knocks his elbow against Louis' as they walk toward the attraction. It's a big peanut, to be sure, but it looks to Harry like it's made of paper mache, sun glinting ridiculously off the textured white surface, and it's not very exciting. Louis and Liam move to take pictures with it anyway, and Harry heads over to a small booth to buy a packet of actual peanuts.
He shares them with Niall, leant against the fence that surrounds the attraction, and watches Louis pose with his eyebrows raised, tongue sticking out of his mouth, and fingers folded into a rock-on sign. He looks way too excited for the world's largest paper mache peanut, and fondness settles in Harry's chest, curves his lips up into a soft smile as Louis examines the photo Liam had taken and demands a re-do with "the entire peanut in it, you prat, that what we're here for, isn't it?"
Suddenly exhausted again, arms and legs heavy with it, Harry hands the bag of peanuts to Niall and slumps off toward the bus. At the last minute, he changes his mind, veers around the front of the bus to see what's on the other side. He's pleased to find that it's a secluded stretch of grass, thick and plush and bright green despite the harsh summer heat, and he slips out of his shoes and lies down, tips his chin up toward the sun. The heat settles over him like a warm, comforting weight and he's nearly dozed off when he hears footsteps on grass, followed by an exasperated sigh and a mumbled, "There you are, Jesus."
He turns his head, squints his eyes open to see Louis approaching. Louis stretches out next to him without hesitation, tugs his phone out of his pocket. "Want to see the pictures?"
"Sure." Harry forgets napping, shifts onto his side and waits for Louis to turn into him and rest his head on Harry's outstretched arm.
Louis holds the phone up so that Harry can see, thumbs through nearly a dozen photos of himself and Liam with the peanut, making various faces and rude gestures. He’s even got one of Zayn, looking bored as he reads the plaque in front of the peanut, fingers splayed against the sign and eyelashes casting long shadows over his cheekbones. Louis pauses at a particularly ridiculous one where he's pretending to lick the peanut and murmurs, "Tweet-worthy, that one."
Harry watches as he opens the photo in instagram, applies one of the filters, and posts it to twitter. Snorts when Louis opens the tweet to inspect it and sees that it's already been favorited and retweeted several thousand times.
Satisfied with the photo and accompanying caption, Louis drops his phone onto the grass behind him, then curls into Harry, rubs his nose across Harry's collarbones. "You didn't want a photo with the world's largest peanut?"
Harry shakes his head, chin scrubbing through Louis' hair with the movement. He wraps his arms around Louis’s back and says, smile coloring his voice, "I don't need the world's largest peanut when I've got my own right here."
"Oi!" Louis tips his head back so he can glare at Harry. "Are you impugning my manhood?"
"Why would I ever do such a thing," Harry murmurs. He pulls Louis closer, a lazy smile curling his lips, digs his fingers in Louis' side so he squirms a little. A hand slips up the back of his shirt to rest, warm and firm, in the small of his back, and Harry presses back into it.
He looks down at Louis, studies the way the sunlight glints off his eyelashes, the way his skin looks smooth and honey warm against the off-white of his shirt. Louis lifts his eyes to Harry's and he smiles when he catches Harry staring.
"Good lad," he murmurs belatedly, just before he shifts up, closes his lips over Harry's bottom lip and sucks it into his mouth.
Harry spreads his fingers wide over Louis' side, thumb pressed down between the slats of Louis' ribs where he can feel his heart beating against his hand. Or it might be his own heartbeat thrumming through the pulse points in his fingers, Harry's not sure. He just tugs Louis closer, slings a leg over Louis' hip so he can slot their hips together, and sinks into the kiss.
They kiss lazily, sun heating skin and grass tickling the sides of their faces. They kiss, soft and without any real intent, until Paul pokes his head around the front of the bus and calls, "Five minutes, lads!"
Harry pulls back with a sigh, reaches up to rub his thumb over Louis' kiss-swollen bottom lip. "C'mon. I want to go buy some more peanuts before we go."
Later that day, as they're crossing over the border into Tennessee, Louis curls against his side on the sofa in the back lounge where Harry and the other lads are watching a movie. Louis ignores the television and presses his phone into Harry's palm with a smirk. "You can't escape the peanut."
When Harry looks down, he sees a candid shot of himself waiting in line to buy some nuts, chin tucked down against his chest as he looks down at his phone. Behind his head looms the giant peanut, gleaming an unnatural white in the overbright summer sun. Harry rolls his eyes as he hands the phone back to Louis, but he can't stop the smile from spreading across his face. “You’re ridiculous.”
"Next stop," Louis says as he drops the phone between the couch cushions and snuggles closer to Harry, fists a hand in his shirt. "Next stop, you're posing for a photo with me. Promise."
Harry heaves an exaggerated sigh, but he curls an arm around Louis, ducks down to nuzzle the side of his face, scrape his teeth along Louis' jaw. His smile widens when Louis shivers, fingers tightening around Harry's shirt. "I promise."