lust for life {l.s.}

part 8

"Ooh we have to get these!" Louis exclaims excitedly as he points to a carton of ruby-red strawberries. "Oh, and these, and these, and these!" He quickly gestures to an assortment of fruits that have Harry letting out an amused chuckle.

"How will you carry them all back to the car, baby?" he questions as he slides up behind his boyfriend and wraps his arms around his slim waist.

"Good thing I have my fit and strapping boyfriend to help me," Louis simpers. "He's so strong."

"Laying it on thick aren't you?" Harry asks, but he already knows he's going to be the one to carry all of their newfound produce back.

They're currently at a cute little farmers' market, having been enchanted by the brightly colored signs that were on the side of the highway. They had been on their way to the beach when the promise of fresh fruit had swayed Harry's driving.

Rows upon rows of luscious blueberries and sweet apples greet them and Louis isn't the only one having a hard time deciding what to go back with them. Hary is equally enchanted by the fresh peaches and apricots.

"We should also get a watermelon and take it to the beach," Louis suggests as he attempts to pick up the cumbersome fruit. "I think I have a knife to cut it with in my car."

"A knife?" Harry asks bewildered. "Why do you have a weapon like that, sweetheart?"

"It's in this little emergency pack my mom got me," Louis says, completely unaware of the way his boyfriend is staring at him in awe. "It came with pepper spray, this little shank-looking thing, and other weapons. She's paranoid that one day a crazy fan will find me."

"Oh, wow," Harry says as he dutifully holds out his hands for the watermelon. "I mean, I guess it's worth it if we can have some fresh watermelon?"

"Now you're catching on," Louis whines sweetly.

With their hands full of fresh fruit and a pot of maple honey, they shuffle back to their car, careful to avoid dropping anything. Hands intertwined, they speed down the highway, the sight of steep cliffs and crystal blue water accompanying their drive.

"I've not been to the beach in forever," Louis announces over the crooning of Elvis Presley.

"Me neither," Harry tries to think back to the last time he got to sit by the calming water. "Our schedules have been pretty crazy."

"Tell me about it," Louis groans. "The other day I worked with this most awful photographer. He kept yelling at me that I was fidgeting. Absolutely dreadful."

Harry tries to tamper down his amused grin. "Tell me darling, were you by chance, actually fidgeting?"

"That is beside the point," Louis shrieks quietly. "It's the principle of the thing, Harry."

"Of course, babe." Harry agrees solemnly. "I would never go against you."

"Yeah, you better not," Louis sniffs and turns towards the window, trying to be affronted. He lasts all four seconds before he's turning back and lacing their hands together.

The beach is less crowded than normal, which Harry counts as an absolute win as he makes several trips back and forth from Louis' car to deliver their fresh fruit and beach supplies. Soon enough, they're shaded from the vicious sun with a blue striped umbrella.

He sits on a white linen blanket, and carefully applies sunblock all over Louis' smooth back, intent on not letting the boy sunburn. Louis had done an equal, if not more thorough job on him, making sure he was completely covered with sunblock, and sneaking in a few inappropriate gropes to his groin. Harry isn't complaining.