If I could fly (BOOK 2)

Wembly

The Capital Summertime Ball at Wembley felt like a living storm.

Half of Made in the A.M. had already been recorded - built out of late-night studio sessions, teething cries, and stolen hours between soundchecks and parenthood. The rest hovered in notebooks and voice memos, waiting.

Tonight was the first massive show back.
Harry felt it humming through him before he even stepped onstage.

Sixty thousand voices erupted when the lights hit, the stadium exploding into noise and color. Harry stepped forward into it like he belonged there more than ever.
He wore a salmon-colored shirt streaked with sharp black and white zig-zag patterns, only three buttons fastened, the rest falling open enough to show sweat gathering across his chest. His wedding ring shining on his hand. Black skinny jeans fit him perfectly, black Chelsea boots grounding him even as he moved like he was made of electricity.

He performed differently now.

Looser. Hungrier. Sharper.

From her seat offstage, Y/N watched him like she physically couldn't look away.

Every step he took. Every flick of his damp curls when they fell into his eyes and he shoved them back with his hand. The way his voice rang across Wembley, stronger somehow - deeper with everything he'd lived through.

Her stomach twisted.
The last time she'd felt this intense... this overwhelming...

...was the night she dragged him into that dressing room months ago.

But this was worse.
Stronger.

Harry was magnetic tonight - pacing the stage, laughing between songs, shirt clinging to him, ring catching the stadium lights every time he lifted his hand toward the crowd.

And Y/N felt it low and warm and impossible to ignore.

⸻

By the time the show ended, Harry was soaked in sweat, breathing hard, adrenaline still burning beneath his skin.

He disappeared backstage and reappeared minutes later with Darcy balanced easily on his hip, her tiny protective headphones crooked as she babbled happily, fingers tangled in his damp curls.

Y/N's chest softened instantly at the sight of them.

Harry laughed at something Louis said beside him, pushing his hair back messily, cheeks flushed, shirt sticking to his skin.

Then he spotted her.

His entire expression shifted.

Louis held his arms out. "Give me the baby, rockstar. You're dripping on her."

Harry smirked but passed Darcy over carefully, pressing a kiss to her head before handing her off.

Then he started walking toward Y/N.

Slow. Intentional.

She stood.

And turned away.

Harry blinked once.

Then she glanced back over her shoulder and smiled.

That smile.

He inhaled sharply.

"Oh, she's done it now," Louis muttered behind him.

Harry didn't even respond.

He followed.

⸻

Y/N slipped down a quieter hallway, heart pounding, aware of every step behind her getting closer. She pushed open the first unused dressing room she found and stepped inside, barely turning around before Harry followed her in, shutting the door firmly behind him and locking it.

The click echoed between them.

They stared at each other for half a heartbeat - both breathing hard, adrenaline still pulsing through Harry from the stage and something deeper burning through Y/N.

Then he moved.

Harry crossed the room in two long strides, hands landing on her waist as he lifted her effortlessly. Y/N gasped softly as she wrapped her legs around his waist, arms looping tightly around his shoulders as her back pressed against the door.

His mouth found hers instantly.

The kiss was hungry, messy, overwhelming - months of exhaustion, tension, love, and adrenaline colliding all at once. Harry pressed her tighter against the door, one hand braced beside her shoulder while the other held firmly at her hip, grounding her there against him.

Y/N's fingers slid into his damp curls, tugging lightly as she kissed him back just as fiercely.

"You were staring at again," he murmured against her lips, voice rough from singing and adrenaline.

"You were impossible all night," she whispered back, breath catching as he kissed along her jaw, down the sensitive line of her neck.

A soft sound slipped from her as her head tilted back instinctively. Harry groaned quietly at the sound, tightening his hold on her hips, pulling her closer like he needed her pressed against him completely.

"You walked away on purpose," he murmured against her throat.

"Maybe," she breathed, tightening her legs slightly around his waist.

Harry laughed softly before capturing her lips again, slower now, deeper. His forehead rested briefly against her shoulder like he was steadying himself before kissing her again, more controlled but somehow more intense. His hands moved across her sides, memorizing her shape like he always did when he needed grounding. Y/N's hands slid down his chest, fingers brushing across the open buttons of his shirt, feeling the warmth of his skin still damp from the show.

"You're going to...ruin me," he whispered quietly.

Her smile was soft and dangerous all at once. "You're already ruined."

Harry kissed her again, deeper this time, carrying her across the small room without breaking contact until they sank onto the couch together. Their laughter mixed with breathless kisses, hands exploring in familiar ways, clothes shifting as the heat between them built and blurred the world outside the locked door.

Time softened.

The stadium noise disappeared.

Eventually, they collapsed together, tangled and warm, Harry resting his forehead against hers as he caught his breath, thumb tracing slow circles against her arm.

"I swear," he murmured, voice still rough, "you're worse than Wembley."

Y/N smiled lazily, brushing her fingers through his hair. "You love it."

He leaned forward, kissing her again - softer now, steadier, grounding.

"I love you," he whispered.

Her hand slid gently along his jaw, eyes warm and certain.

"I love you too," she said quietly.

⸻

Outside the dressing room, the tour buzzed on.

Inside, Harry rested his head against her shoulder, finally steady again - grounded in the only place that had ever truly felt like home.

And somewhere down the hallway, Darcy giggled loudly with Louis, completely unaware her parents had disappeared for twenty minutes.