Got The Sunshine On My Shoulders || larry stylinson

PART 17

.“I don't understand why this is necessary,” Harry whines, not for the first time. Louis, who's been sitting on his lap the entire car ride and suspiciously quiet, gives him another kiss on the forehead.

“Told you, it's a surprise,” Liam trills from the front. Mum, who's sitting next to him, giggles. Harry's suspicions grow at an alarming rate.

“Why does it require me to be blindfolded?” he asks, fidgeting. Louis squeezes his hand.

“It's a surprise, darling. That means we don't want you to know where you're going.”

Harry whines into Louis's shoulder. He's still wearing his pyjamas, with a hoodie thrown over the top. Mum had barged into their house and kidnapped him before he even had a chance to eat breakfast, which means he's hungry, and cold, and miserable. And blindfolded.

Louis, at least, seems to feel a little bad. He's been showering Harry in attention the entire drive, running calming hands through his hair, but Harry is strong. He will not stop being mad once they let him out of this car, no matter where they've taken him.

“Here we go!” Liam announces, entirely too loudly for the tiny space. “Hold on to your hats.” Then he takes the car off the road, presumably, because Harry almost flies out of his seat. He has to blindly reach out to find a door handle, and hold on for dear life.

When they finally let him come out, Harry has half a mind to stomp off in whatever direction, just for a minute, to collect himself a little. The only thing that stops him is the fact that he might well be standing over a pit full of alligators. Maybe everyone's finally had enough of him pacing and worrying about going on tour, and they decided to get rid of him.

“Don't be mad,” Louis says, wrapping an arm around his waist, his chin on Harry's shoulder. “The blindfold was Liam's idea, I swear.”

Harry sighs. He's resolved to stay angry, but Louis is warm all along his back, and he still smells like sleep.

“Can I take it off?” he asks, relaxing into Louis's embrace. He's not sure where the others have gone - there are voices, somewhere, but they don't sound familiar, and he has no concept of how far they might be.

“Hold on one more second,” Louis replies, takes both his hands and leads him-somewhere. Harry thinks it's grass under his feet, soft and silent as they stumble through it; it gives way to gravel, then pavement. Their footsteps echo, and the breeze around Harry's ears dies down.

“Okay,” Louis says, holding on to Harry's shoulders and pulling him to a stop. “Okay, turn this way-there you go.”

“Now?” Harry asks, but his hands are already flying to the back of his head, trying to undo the ridiculous knot Louis has made in one of Harry's own scarves. A few strands of his hair have gotten caught in it, and it hurts coming off, but Louis helps him untangle the last bit.

When the blindfold falls away, Harry has to take a second to just squint at his impossibly bright surroundings. Patches of colour come into focus very, very slowly: a dozen shades of green, black to brown to grey, and then shapes. They're still outside, just standing under an awning. As far as Harry can see, there's nothing other than trees and hills and a blurry skyline shimmering all the way in the distance. They could be anywhere, but-but.

“Louis,” he says, and turns to him, but Louis is no longer standing where he was. Instead, the view that opens up in front of Harry is an eerily familiar one - a slim patch of gravel laid in the midst of all the grass, and a beautiful little fountain. “Louis, this is The Royal.”

Louis laughs. “I know.”

Harry goes to turn around so they're face to face, so he can drown his husband in his confused questions all at once, but Louis puts a small palm into the middle of his back.