Lilac || l.s. ✔︎

Chapter sixty-two

Vanessa's strange behavior had then made sense. And as of now, he had no interest in setting foot in Ashville again.

"I have the day off today."

Harry's eyes lit up discernibly at the information, his sunglasses now pushing his curls back as they sat in the car in the parking lot of a fucking maternity clinic. Louis would have never thought agreeing to his mother's request to marry an omega would land him here, that too only after a few months. "Oh, can we drop by the nursery, then?" The peace ring on his middle finger glinted in the early morning sun as Harry rubbed his palms together in excitement, dimples popping out. "No, just ice cream and then we're heading home. I want to take a nap, and I don't think Niall would appreciate Cliff shitting on his custom-made carpet." He pulled out of the parking lot, trying to ignore Harry who was sulking, very childishly, in his seat.

"Just make stupid excuses, why don't you?" Harry grumbled out of the blue, just when Louis pulled into the parking lot of Baskin Robbins. "What?" He let his confusion show as they both exited the car, Harry slamming the door with a little extra force. The omega didn't answer, instead, grabbed his hand before he started leading them towards the outlet. "Nothing, I want two scoops of strawberry cheesecake." Harry finally responded when they entered the shop, instantly taking a seat on one of the nearest tables, looking up at him with a grin. Louis was confused, to say the least, extremely confused, he cogitated as Harry shooed him away to the counter to order for them.

Moments later when he returned to Harry, the omega was absolutely beaming, eyeing the cups of ice cream in his hands, all starry-eyed.

"This is so fucking delicious," Harry muttered offhandedly, licking his spoon clean. Louis watched with keen interest as the omega's eyes widened, almost comically, before he glanced down at his stomach. "Do you think the baby could hear me curse?" Harry asked then, peering at him with the innocence of a child in his eyes, face holding so much of hope as if only Louis had the answers he sought for. "No." He didn't know that, but he guessed it wouldn't hurt anyone. "I know that. This book I read said that the baby starts developing their ears at eighteen weeks, so we've got time on our hands before we seriously have to stop all the cussing." Turned out, only Harry had the answers he himself sought for. When Louis only nodded in encouragement, Harry started prattling away without a care in the world, stopping mid-way to shove ice cream down his throat every once in a while.

"I think I'm obsessed with cheesecakes." Harry further added, spooning another bit of the creamy dessert. "And anything related to them." Louis could only nod as he scooped out a spoonful of his own ice cream, a simple scoop of mint chocolate-chip— the only flavor he could never really get tired of. "You're not saying anything, are you bored?" Harry tilted his head to the side, a rogue curl falling in front of his eyes from the restraints of his hair-tie. "I like to hear you speak, that's all." He responded with a shy shrug of his shoulders, letting himself relax a little in the uncomfortable plastic chair.

"Oh." Harry's mouth was molded in an 'o', before he nodded, hints of a proliferating blush dusting his otherwise pale cheeks. "That is," Harry coughed deliberately, toying with one of his rings (and for once, letting the spoon rest in the gradually melting pool of ice cream), "very sweet of you." He completed after a beat, the faint blush now transmuting itself into a florid one; full of the blooming colors of red.

It was a change to see Harry go back to his timid self from the fierce omega who didn't think twice before rambling his heart out. "Don't go all shy on me now." He commented without giving it much thought, relishing in the way Harry's soft features hardened themselves into an indignant frown, "shut up. You are too pretty for me to even think of bashing your head in a wall." Snorting out a chuckle, he reached for Harry's hand over the table, cringing at the feeling of the omega's sticky hand. Of course. "Need a tissue, fleur?"