butterfingers (l.s mpreg)

twenty three, week 25

"How about you drive me around? I wanna see your hometown." His voice sounded a bit distant due to his focus on the king of spades between his fingers.

And Harry smiled. He really hoped that Louis' fear of driving would settle down soon enough, which he knew was terribly selfish, but he ached to stare at him from the passenger seat. He missed the way he clung to a steering wheel, and the way his elbow leaned against the center console, always so damn ready to control the radio.

"I'd love to, Lou." He says instead.

They exchange quick smiles before Louis gets up, rushing to their bedroom to change out of his pjs and into a pair of running shorts, which Harry would think to be insane; "Not in this kind of weather, idiot!" Louis can practically hear in his head.

Harry stayed comfortable in his plaid pjs, his hair painfully floppy and messy. His sweatshirt hugged the tightness in his abdomen.

Harry began musing about "back home", remembering his favorite 24 hour diner and the national park just up the highway. He recalls "home" in such a damned Harry way, his green eyes wide and gleaming underneath the light above them in the car. He kept his hands on either side of the wheel, eyes on the road, though his mind was on Louis.

The landscape was breathtaking, miles and miles of orange and red treetops. It looked foreign compared to their other home, crowded by skyscrapers and smog. The air was so clean here, and ran through Louis' nostrils like vaporized silk.

Every couple miles Louis' spotted a jogger or a woman pushing a stroller, her dog in tow.

Harry's complexion matched the earthy tones, the setting sun matching the flush in his cheeks and the trees reflecting in his eyes.

Louis watched, leaning up against the passenger door to keep a close eye on his Harry. Bob Marley poured from the speakers and allowed the pair to hum along.

After ten minutes they come up to a row of shopping, a large "Walmart-type" department store packed with aging Camry's. There's a small strip mall with a Dairy Queen drive through and a yarn store.

After passing through, Harry pulls up to a dirt passage to park. The pink sky is painfully cloud-less, and turns their skin an eye-popping fuchsia.

Harry pulls tight on his sweater, a gust of cold air pushing its way toward them. His slippers crackled against the gravel.

After dragging Louis down a long path, they come up to a massive hole in the earth.

The cliff that begins after their feet is at least sixty feet, and drops to meet a pool of crystal clear blue falls. The water trickles down from the opposite side to meet at the bottom.

Trees surround the area and cast a shadow on the quarry, leaving tiny markings of long orange branches in the ripples.

"Harry, this is beautiful." Louis stood in awe.

"Isn't it?" They remained silent, laying down in the gravel to stare up at the setting sun.

The silence was serene, and allowed the two to interlock hands. Harry wondered why it's beautiful things that take our breath away. Louis wondered what would happen if he ever had to let this go.

"H," Louis later said from the passenger seat of their rental.

"Lou," Harry grinned ear to ear, taking a split second to send a green eyes gaze back at his whole world.

"I want to build a life with you." He said.

They were only sitting in the lot, allowing the growing darkness to seep in.

Harry's eyes were now locked on Louis.

Rather than reciting an entire speech, Louis looks up. His cheekbones are defined and sharp but loosen with a cheeky smile, "I love you. And you are home to me."

He smacks a kiss onto his lover's cheek before they head back home, and the night air is cold. The sun had set and the stars seem so much clearer where the air is so pure.

Harry spends some time dabbling on the piano sitting in the living room, giggling and singing. The only sheet music left is the old Billy Joel books left by his grandmother and some Ray Charles classics.

His sweatshirt hangs behind him on the black bench, Louis leaning against it from the couch.

"I never really knew that you played piano." Louis confessed.

"I dabble. We all have our things." Harry smiles, the flush pulled from his cheeks by the cold clinging to him. His nose runs a bit.

The tv hums quietly behind them and the kitchen light's humming. Harry's frail hands glide across the piano keys in a gentle rendition of Stand By Me. Louis' head leans back against the wood paneling, eyes focused on the crackling of the remaining embers in the fire he had put out earlier.

They didn't say anything. It stayed quiet, Harry humming and Louis' smile creeping dangerously close to either cheek.

They thought instead, home, they thought, this is home.

a/n: this is the most boring ugly filler chapter sorry guys !! More to come