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Harry loves America. He loves England, of course, wouldn’t want to live anywhere else, but America is so big and everything in it is so big and spread out. And even though they’re on tour, stopping more often than not to give interviews and perform, he feels kind of like he’s on a road trip. A road trip in an over-the-top bus, with his four best friends, Paul, and a personal driver; a road trip with hotel nights and VIP areas in the hotel bars and room service, but a road trip no less.
They're driving through rural Pennsylvania, and he's sitting in the back lounge, losing spectacularly to Niall and Zayn at Mario Kart while Louis and Liam putter around in the kitchenette. He registers the sound of running water, glances over to see Louis filling a kettle at the sink and opens his mouth to request tea when Louis exclaims, "Fireworks! Liam, did you see that sign? Here, take the kettle, take it take it!"
Louis disappears down the hall and Harry can hear the faint sound of arguing from the front of the bus, and then it’s slowing down and pulling off the highway.
“Pause the game,” Harry says with a frown, and he drops his controller, gets up to look out the window. There’s not much to see – grass and trees and the occasional farm animal, but as they slow to a stop, he can see the edge of what looks like a white shed. Louis comes bounding back into the room, breathless with excitement.
“Fireworks,” is all he says before he’s scrambling for a pair of shoes in the bunks and stumbling out the door.
Harry and Liam follow at a more sedate pace, not entirely sure what’s going on. By the time they step off the bus, Louis is standing at the side of the shed, where a long, low window has been propped open. Now that Harry looks around properly, he can see that there are bright red letters painted ten feet high on the side of the shed advertising Fourth of July fireworks, four for the price of one.
Through the window, he can see rows and rows of fireworks of all kinds, can see Louis pointing at different ones while the man inside the shed pulls them down and adds them to a small pile on the countertop.
Harry turns to look at Liam, alarmed, but Liam’s eyes have lit up with excitement and he strides over to Louis’ side and starts chatting to the man behind the counter, who adds even more to the pile in front of them.
“Aaaaah,” Harry says, a note of hesitancy in his voice. “I’m not sure this is the best idea, Louis.”
Louis looks over at Harry as he walks up, eyes bright, corners crinkled up with the force of his smile. “Paul checked, it’s legal as long as we’re outside city limits. Come on, Haz.” He puts a hand on Harry’s wrist and beams up at him. “It’s like an American rite of passage, I think. It’ll be fun.”
Harry bites his lip, turns his hand over so he can tangle their fingers together. He’s not the biggest fan of fireworks, they’re too noisy, but they are pretty to look at. He stares down at Louis for a moment, who just looks back up at him happily, then sighs. “Make sure you get those sparkly ones.”
There are only a few hours till sunset and they’re less than an hour from Hershey, so they drive into town for dinner, then head back outside of city limits once it’s dark out, find a county road that leads out past a few farms and into a large, grassy clearing.
Harry leaves the setting up of the fireworks to Louis, Liam, and Niall, grabs a blanket from the bus and settles onto it with Zayn. He fiddles absently with the small pile of cameras by his hip – a point-and-shoot digital, a D-SLR, and Louis’ Polaroid, makes sure they’re all set to the proper settings.
“If we get arrested in America...” Zayn mutters with a shake of his head.
Harry laughs and leans back on his hands, rolls his head on his shoulder to look over at Zayn. “Louis says Paul made sure it’s legal.”
Before long, Louis is tripping over and dropping onto the blanket beside Harry.
“You’re not going to light them?”
Louis shakes his head, burrows into Harry’s side with a hand around his waist, fingers digging into his hip. “Nah, I handed the reins over to Liam and Niall. I have to take care of my boyfriend, he’s afraid of fireworks you know.”
Harry rolls his eyes, but nuzzles into Louis’ hair. “My brave, strong protector.”
“Don’t you forget it,” Louis mumbles into Harry’s shirt.
Liam twists around from where he’s bent over a large, red firework. “Ready, lads?”
Louis slips his free hand into Harry’s, bites down on his shoulder to hide a smile when Harry squeezes it nervously.
“Go on then,” Zayn shouts.
Niall lights the fuse and Harry holds his breath, watches it burn down, watches the firework launch into the sky and, moments later, explode into sparks of red, white, and blue. The boys cheer and Harry presses a smile into Louis’ hair, lets Louis pull his hand out of his grasp so he can grab a camera.
“More,” he calls out. “Do several at once!”
He aims his camera at the sky and waits. His face is mostly in shadow, lips parted and eyes nearly black in the darkness as he stares up at the sky expectantly. He looks a bit like a kid at Christmas, waiting patiently for Santa, so Harry tugs his phone out of his pocket, trains the camera on Louis and snaps a picture. He takes a few more for good measure: one of Liam and Niall bent over the mountain of fireworks, one of Zayn, his eyes lit up blue and green as he watches one of the fireworks fade into wisps of smoke, a few pictures of the actual fireworks. He stitches them together into a photo grid and posts it to instagram, Happy Fourth, America!!
Louis is tugging on his arm as he tucks the phone back into his pocket. “Haz, this one, watch this one. The guy said it’s a good one.”
Harry edges closer, drapes his arm around Louis’ shoulder and tips his head back. He can hear Niall and Liam arguing over who gets to light the fuse, lets his eyes flutter closed until he can hear the whistle and pop of the firework releasing from its cardboard casing. When he opens them, he can just see the trail of smoke as it shoots up into the sky, and then it’s exploding in a shower of gold sparks that arc wide, trailing long, curved tails of sparkling glitter across the inky black sky. There’s a series of pops, like crackers going off, and then each of the sparks burst into a shower of silver rain that hangs suspended in the sky for a heartbeat, then falls toward earth in small plumes of white smoke.
“Do the sparklers next,” Louis calls. “Hazza requested them specially.”
Harry huffs out a laugh, sits up when Louis lets go of him and gets onto his hands and knees, crawls around and settles behind him with his legs splayed on either side of Harry’s hips. Harry hums contentedly when Louis wraps his arms around his shoulders and pulls him back against his chest, leans into him and tips his head back against Louis’ shoulder.
Louis drops a kiss against the side of his neck. “The only thing that would make this moment better is a cold beer.”
Zayn snorts. “That’s all we need, the cops coming to check out the fireworks and finding us drinking underage.”
“Bloody American drinking laws,” Louis grumbles into Harry’s neck.
Harry grins and wraps his arms over Louis’ around his chest. “Hey Lou, you've been such a good knight in shining armor. When we get to the hotel in Hershey, we can break into the mini-fridge. We’ll get drunk on vodka samplers and have dangerous, slippery, drunken sex in the shower. How does that sound?”
He can feel Louis’ grin pressed against the base of his neck, the heat of his breath ghosting over his skin when he says, “Sounds perfect, my little damsel in distress.”
Harry snuggles in closer while Liam and Niall light up the rest of the fireworks, cheers and claps dutifully when they set all of the sparklers off in rapid succession. As Niall lights the fuse of the last firework, Louis leans back in, presses an open-mouthed kiss to his jaw and whispers, “’M gonna fuck you so hard, you’re gonna see your own fireworks.”
Harry sucks in a breath, brain gone a bit fuzzy, tightens his grip on Louis’ arms and calls out, “Are we finished here?”