salute [h.s]

it's like true lies or something

december 15 - a sleigh ride

1D fanfic/Salute Extra

Harry/Piper

*

They were running, the snow kicking up around their boots as they plowed through the fluffy whiteness as fast as their feet would carry them. Piper was wearing a huge puffy winter coat on top of one of the most glamorous dresses she'd ever seen, a silky purple number with a billowing skirt. Underneath the hem was a pair of Timberlands that Piper was pretty confident she didn't own. Her normal winter boots were a bargain bin pair of Doc Martens with a hole in the toe. Something about this wasn't adding up.

"Run, petal!" Harry yelled over his shoulder as her steps faltered, her brain trying to catch up with what was happening. He was dressed in a suit and he had a submachine gun tucked in the crook of his arm. It occurred to her that she was holding a gun too, one of the L85A2's that Liam had trained her on. She was so surprised she nearly dropped it. She stumbled and finally came to a stop because she really had no idea what was going on. When the distance between her and Harry widened, his eyes shot open and he waved frantically. "For fuck's sake, Piper, don't stop!"

There was a peal of gunfire and Piper immediately hunched down, looking over her shoulder for the source of the noise. She couldn't believe her eyes.

There were gunmen in white snowsuits, skiing down the hill as they shot at Harry and Piper with automatic weapons. Skiing. Down the hill. With guns.

What the fuck was going on?

"Piper!" She didn't need to be yelled at twice. She broke into a sprint to catch up with Harry, craning her head around to watch the progression of their aggressors. Harry held out his hand when she was close, already poised to run and the second she clasped her hand in his, he took off. With his longer legs and his superior conditioning, he was much faster and she found herself being pulled along. She did her best to keep up.

They weaved between trees on the hillside, slipping and sliding in the snow. Every so often, Harry would turn his upper body and fire out at the people following behind them. When she glanced back, she saw some of the white snowsuited men lying on the ground, moaning as they cradled knees, shoulders, stomachs, and Piper knew that Harry's aim was spot on even now. Still, for every one that went down, two more seemed to appear, soaring over bumps on their skis and quickly gaining distance.

She'd never run so hard in her life. Her chest was heaving and her legs burned like hellfire. Every inch of her body was telling her to quit, to stop running, but she couldn't. She knew that would mean death. For what? She wasn't sure. Why were they being chased? What the hell was going on?

Her big heavy boot caught the hem of her dress and before she could right herself, she was tumbling down into the snow, inertia making her roll painfully for a couple of metres. Harry, who had been holding her hand tight enough to break it, was tugged down with her and they became a tangle of limbs, all wrapped up in each other. She must've elbowed Harry in the ribs because as he pushed himself up, he was wheezing hard. That didn't seem to matter. He sent one panicked look over his shoulder and instead of helping her up, he hefted her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and kept running.

"Harry," Piper yelped, the force of his throwing her over his shoulder making her abdomen clack against his collarbone. That was going to leave a mark. He didn't care — his sole focus was on getting them the hell out of there. She was okay with that.

Because of the way she was positioned over Harry's shoulder, she had a front row seat to their pursuers. She was convinced that her brain was playing tricks on her. This didn't happen in real life. What the fuck kind of criminals used skis? Bloody skis! They looked like astronauts in their stupid white snowsuits and they were skidding on their skis, blowing up snow behind them. Gunshots rang through the air and Harry began zig-zagging so they were a moving target, harder to hit.