Tunnel Vision - scottmcniceass - One Direction (Band) [Archive of Our Own] (2024)

Chapter Text

His hair is matted to his forehead with sweat, and his shirt is clinging to his back by the time he gets off stage that night. He didn't have much sleep, due to the fact that Liam was just outside the door the whole night. It kept him awake, tossing and turning, and he heard Liam get up several times, too, like he was having the same issue.

So maybe Zayn offering to let Liam stay in his bus didn't make Liam's life easier, he thinks, because Liam has look just as, if not more, tired the last couple days as he had when he was sharing the bus with the rest of their security. Only now it's f*cking with Zayn, too, and he knows that it's mostly his own fault. He's the one who's acted like it all never happened. Refused to answer Harry or Louis when they badgered him about how distant he's been, and he's actually glued himself to Niall and Josh's sides because neither of them are pushy and they're both too wrapped up in each other to question him.

He should write a book, he really should.How To Avoid Your Obvious Infatuation With Your Bodyguard: A memoir by Zayn Malik.

He jogs right past Liam, heading for the table with water bottles and sh*t. He grabs a towel, too, and wipes down his face. Someone wraps their arms around him, and he sinks into the hug until he realizes it's not Liam. Of course it's not Liam. Why would it be Liam?

"Drinks tonight?" Harry asks. "Niall and I wanna get wasted."

Zayn turns, and Harry's arms stay around him. "I don't know if—"

"Please?" Harry begs. "We haven't had a good night out, all of us, in a while."

"All of us?" he asks. "Lou invited then, too?"

Harry rolls his eyes and finally releases his grip on Zayn's sides. "Yes. We've talked, and we've decided to put aside our differences for the sake of the band."

Zayn snorts. "Did you hire a lawyer to come to this agreement?"

Harry gently shoves him. "Just say yes, please. Please. I already told Liam we were going."

"Liam's coming too?" Zayn asks, perking up a bit without even meaning to.

Harry smirks at him. "Uh, considering that he's supposed to follow you everywhere, especially clubs, yes."

How is it that that makes him want to go even more, and makes him want to say no even more, at the same time? He lets his gaze wander over the room until it finally lands on him, but Liam's too busy chatting with Louis to notice. "Yeah, okay," Zayn agrees. He could use a drink, at the very least.

Harry grins. "Brilliant. We're meeting in the hotel lobby at eleven."

Zayn grunts his agreement. He finishes off another water bottle, and then they all make their way out of the building. There's screaming girls outside, lingering behind after the concert with the hope of catching another glimpse of him. Most of his security is there, keeping them at bay, and Zayn's too exhausted to do much, but he still locates a pen and signs a few things, stands for photos with a couple girls who cling to him and act like they're going to hold on forever.

"Can we get a picture with you both?" one of them asks, and Zayn frowns. Both? "You and Liam," she adds, clarifying with a giggle. "He's super fit, too."

Zayn turns and of course Liam's right there, standing just behind him, arms crossed over his chest. He must not have heard the question, because his expression is blank. "Um." Zayn licks at his lips, but she looks so damn hopeful, and her friend is giving him wide pleading eyes, too. "Liam, come 'ere."

Liam's hand goes to the small of his back instantly, and he asks lowly, "Everything okay?"

Zayn nods quickly. "They just, um, want—"

"That's perfect!" the girl says loudly. "Just let me—" She squeezes in between them and her friend gets on Zayn's left, and then she holds out her camera and snaps a picture of them all. "Thank you, you guys are so great."

Liam stumbles back a step, and Zayn turns to him, eyebrows raised. Before he can ask, they're being shuffled into the car waiting for them. Louis is inside, along with Niall. Josh and Harry must have taken a different car, which is a little weird. It's actually off-putting to see Niall without Josh in his lap, at this point.

He pulls on his seatbelt as Liam tugs on his own, and then they're pulling away, the sound of shrieking girls lowering the farther they get. "f*cking crazy," Niall mutters, shaking his head happily. "Every time. It's always f*cking crazy."

"Why did they want a picture of me?" Liam asks, tugging at the seatbelt like it's too tight.

Zayn shrugs. "They said you were hot."

Liam still looks lost. "With you right there to compare me to? I don't see how that's even possible."

From the seat in front of them, Louis makes a rude sound and says, "This is why Josh wasn't allowed in the car. I was looking toavoidthis sh*t."

"Stop being a cynical dick," Niall chides.

Zayn sighs and settles farther into his seat. Without any warning, Liam's hand inches across the seat. Zayn sees it, considers acting like the doesn't, but at the last second he moves his own, locking his fingers into the spaces between Liam's while still staring out the window. When he looks at Liam out the corner of his eyes, Liam's doing the same thing, but with a soft smile on his face.

They pull up to the hotel, and Zayn reluctantly releases Liam's hand. He doesn't want to, though. He wants to grab it again when they exit the car and Liam hovers just behind him, carefully moving him forward every time it looks like he's about to stop. Which is probably a good thing, since security here isn't nearly as tight as it had been at the venue, and stopping to sign things isn't nearly as practical.

They all pile into the elevator, Niall grabbing onto his hand this time because Niall's got an irrational fear of elevators. Liam gets off on the floor just before his own, and he wonders distantly where Liam's staying. He's never thought to ask what the security team does when they stay in hotels, but obviously they get rooms, too. But they probably don't get their own room each, like Zayn does. Most likely they're like Louis and Niall and the others, piling several into a single room because it's cheaper. Zayn wouldn't mind sharing, too, but no one ever asks him.

The first thing he does in his room is shower and change. He washes away the sweat and grime from the show and searches through his clothes for something clean to wear. It's harder than it should be, but he manages to find an only slightly wrinkled t-shirt and he pulls it on with a pair of jeans before ordering room service. He still has about an hour before he has to meet the others, and he's starving.

When his food arrives, he turns on the TV and sprawls out in bed, alternating between eating and changing the channels. But there's barely anything on, mostly just reruns and made for TV movies that he'd rather punch himself than watch. He pulls out his phone and opens Twitter, and send a quickThanks to everyone who came out tonight! You guys were great! :Dand then scrolls through his feed, just for something to do.

Before he even realizes what he's doing, he's scrolling back up to the top and searching up Liam's name. He clicks Liam's name and notices that the follower count has risen incredibly since the last time he'd seen it. 600k, now, and though his profile picture is the exact same (something that must be old, because Liam's head is shaved) he's been tweeting.

He should stop, he thinks, turn back now instead of stalking Liam online. But he can't.

zzzzzzayntouchme he's very lovelyyy and very talented : )

Zayn frowns. Who's lovely and talented? He clicks to read the rest of the conversation, and he seesLiamPayne what's the best part about working with Zayn? Also please follow me!thx

Zayn bites at his thumbnail and keeps reading. He expands them immediately this time instead of trying to figure out what the hell Liam's talking about, and each time he reads a new one he tells himself he'll stop, but then he keeps reading anyways. At least Liam's very professional about it, because he doesn't seem to be answering any questions about Zayn except that first one.

LiamPayne whats your favourite junk food?

heatherPluvsZM Reeses peanut buttercups recently! There greattt :D

Underneath that is just a simple tweet from Liam that saysDon't see y youd want me to but I guess ill answer some questions : )and beneath that:u guys have sum very interesting names lol.

Zayn snorts a laugh at that. And he kind of finds the whole thing adorable.

He tries to think back, tries to remember if it was like this in his past relationships. Not that he and Liam are in a relationship, because they're not and they can't be, not if Liam wants to keep his job, and Zayn would never let him give it up something that might not work out in the end. But he can't remember ever being this infatuated with someone before the relationship even started. Like with his last boyfriend, he'd been into him, he had, but even at their strongest he didn't — And with his ex girlfriend, he can't remember finding every single thing she did endearing, but with Liam it's like—

Ugh. He needs to stop thinking about it. Maybe it's a good thing they're going out because he really can't spend the whole night dwelling on this.

Zayn is downstairs just before eleven. He's not the only one in the lobby, but he's the only one out of their group. He sees a few employees who eyes him nervously, and someone asks him if he needs anything, but he assures them that he's fine, he's just waiting for friends.

Louis is the first one down the stairs. He's muttering under his breath, tugging at his shirt in irritation. Zayn wraps his arms around him just because, and Louis sighs into it, resting his chin on Zayn's shoulder. "Do I look okay?" he whispers, like he's afraid of someone hearing and realizing that, shocker, he's not as confident as he'd like everyone think.

"You look fine," Zayn says. "Great, even."

Louis lets him go and grins. "Better than your hot as f*ck bodyguard?"

Zayn chooses to ignore that, for several reasons. Just outside the glass front doors of the hotel, he can see fans outside, waving around posters, and he smiles to himself but also silently thanks the hotel for putting him in a back-facing room so he can get some uninterrupted sleep for the first time in days.

Niall and Josh come down next, playfully shoving at each other and basically making a scene without even realizing it. "— until later, when we're not in public," Josh is saying while shaking his head.

Niall runs up behind him, caging Josh in his arms. Whatever he says next is too muffled from talking directly against Josh's neck, and Zayn figures that he doesn't want to know anyways. He busies himself with watching the elevator, foot tapping impatiently against the ground. When it opens, Harry steps out and Louis turns and looks away.

"I'm getting you all fired," he mutters under his breath. "I'll have someone else open for me. Maybe an all girl group."

"I can hear you, just so you know," Louis says.

"Good."

"Are we all ready?" Harry asks, looking around. He turns to Zayn, brow furrowed. "Where's Liam?"

"Why are you asking me?" Zayn demands. "I'm not his keeper."

"No, but he's yours," Louis points out. "And don't snap at him."

"Don't tell him what to do," Harry says instantly.

"Don't tellmewhat to do," Louis snaps.

"You just told him not to snap at me but it's okay for you—"

Zayn sees Liam coming out of the elevator, and he lets out a sigh of relief, heading straight for him. He doesn't stop walking as he passes Liam, but he does grab Liam's hand and drag him forward. For his part, Liam only makes a surprised sound and allows himself to be guided back to the elevator. Zayn hits the button three times, like pressing it more than once will make it come faster; it doesn't.

Liam squeezes his hand. "Should I even ask, or—?"

"No."

The elevator makes a pinging sound as the door opens, and Zayn pulls Liam inside. He hits the 'close door' button and the one to bring them to the highest floor (sixteen). He keeps Liam's hand in his and starts to worry that someone outside could have seen him grab Liam's hand, but then he decides he doesn't care because that doesn't have to mean anything. Friends hold each others hands, right? He holds Harry's sometimes. Though Harry's hand isn't ever quite as warm, and his fingers aren't slightly callused, like Liam's, and holding Harry's hand never seems to make Zayn feel so grounded.

He reaches up and pinches the bridge of his nose when the door slides all the way shut and they start moving. Liam stays quiet, and he lets Zayn breathe for a moment. Which is kind of why Zayn had grabbed him. He needs to just breathe but he doesn't want to be alone, and he loves the others, he does, but he just needs a moment.

"You okay?" Liam asks when they get to the top floor. The doors open, pause, and then shut again. Zayn reaches over and presses the ground floor button.

"Just needed a moment," Zayn explains. Now that he's had it, he think he'd be okay with letting go of Liam's hand. He doesn't. "Sorry."

"No worries," Liam says easily. "Take as many as you like."

Zayn snorts. "The others would leave if I did. They're probably already considering it."

Liam shrugs. "Then we'll meet up with them when you're ready."

"And what if I'm not ever ready?" Zayn asks. "What if I keep you locked in this elevator forever?"

Liam stares at the little device above the door that reads off the floor number. It ticks down from fourteen to eleven before Liam says, "I could think of worse things."

Zayn chews the inside of his lip. 10. 9. 8. 7. "Like what?" he asks.

6. 5. 4. "Like this elevator breaking and plunging us to our deaths," Liam supplies. "Sharknado becoming a real thing. My mum realizing that it was actually me who broke her vase when I was seven and not Ruth."

The elevator door starts to open, and Zayn lets go of Liam's hand. The others are still waiting, Louis with his arms crossed over his chest, Harry on his phone, and Niall and Josh… being Niall and Josh. Which means they're acting like they're alone, wrapped up in each other, to the point where it'd be nauseating if Zayn weren't honestly happy that they've seemed to find happiness in each other.

"Where were you?" Louis demands, eyebrows raised.

"Had to get something from my room," Liam says easily. "Made Zayn come with me."

"I'm sure Zayn loved coming with you," Louis says with a smirk.

Zayn makes a choking sound, Liam turns red, and Harry starts to laugh until he seems to remember that he and Louis are in a fight, and he schools his face into an annoyed pout. So much for putting aside their differences.

"Let's just go," Zayn says. "The car's probably waiting out front."

It's getting late, and he figures that most of his fans have a curfew, so it's not as packed out front as it had been when they'd arrived. They all pile into a single vehicle, he, Liam and Harry in the back, Josh and Niall in the middle seat, and Louis at the front with the driver.

Zayn's stuck in the middle, trapped between Harry and Liam. And when Liam discreetly grabs his hand, he can'tnotcurl their fingers together. Harry turns to him, goes to say something, but his eyes drop to where his and Liam's hands are. Zayn moves them back a bit, hidden by his body, but Harry still sees, still grins at him like he thinks this is great and not something completely stupid and reckless and potentially catastrophic, which it actually is.

When they get to the club, Zayn keeps his head ducked and doesn't make eye contact with anyone, just in case they recognize him. They make it inside without incident, and he breathes easier as he and Harry make their way up to the bar and the others head somewhere else.

The second they make it to the bar, the bartender's eyes widen and she stutters out, "What-what can I get you?"

Zayn smiles at her. "Something strong."

"R-right. And, um, you?" she asks Harry, reluctantly pulling her eyes away from Zayn.

"Same, darling," Harry says, leaning his elbows on the bar.

Zayn chances a glance at Liam, but he's leaning on the bar, too, with his back facing the bartender and his eyes watchfully on the crowd, like he expects danger to come out of nowhere if he stops surveying the area for even a second. Zayn wonders what it'd be like to get Liam a night off and get a drink in him. To see what he'd be like completely stripped of that careful, watchful demeanour. To really loosen him up.

Bad choice of words, he thinks as he turns back to the bartender.

Fingers press gently into his hip, and Zayn turns as he's reaching for his drink. "Can we go somewhere a little less occupied?" Liam asks, eyes wide.

Zayn's mouth goes dry. "I— what?" he stutters out, because his mind is jumping to all sorts of conclusions, and that sounds a hell of a lot like a line that he's gotten more than once at a bar from some guy or girl who wanted a fumbled hook-up in the bathroom or something.

Liam's mouth opens and snaps shut, and he seems to get exactly where Zayn's mind went, because his cheeks go red and his lips tilt up just a fraction. "I meantallof us," he corrects. "Just — somewhere where you're not so in the open. I'd really rather not have you mobbed by a group of drunk people."

Like he could hear them talking or something, Louis comes up behind him and says loudly, "Booths!" and jerks his thumb over his shoulder to point in their direction.

Zayn grabs his drink and, with Liam in front of him and Harry behind him, makes his way over to them. Niall and Josh have already sat themselves at an empty both, Josh half sitting on Niall while drumming his fingers impatiently. "Is Lou getting our drinks?" Niall asks.

Zayn shrugs. "No idea," he says as he climbs into the opposite side of the booth. Harry climbs in right next to him, and Liam looks nervously around before perching on just the edge of the seat beside Harry, facing the crowd once again.

Zayn frowns at him, drink halfway to his lips. He looks on edge, like something's bothering him, but he'd seemed fine during the entire ride here. Zayn wants to ask, he does, but he also thinks that maybe he should just — stop thinking about Liam for five minutes. It feels a lot like his world has recently shifted, no longer revolving around the sun because it's too busy revolving around every little thing Liam does.

Which is just ridiculous and soppy and they'renot even in a relationship.

Zayn downs his drink in one sip and grins at Harry. "Let's have some fun."

Some time between his third and fourth drink, Harry pulls him onto the dance floor, and Zayn allows it. Grabs Harry's hips and lets himself go for a moment, not caring if that girl to their left has her phone camera trained on them, or if someone else is pressing insistently against his back and trying to butt in.

They probably look so dumb, he knows. Harry can't dance, can barely walk sometimes without tripping like an awkward, newly born doe. And Zayn has a thing for fist pumping when he's drunk. It's as embarrassing to witness as it sounds, but he's past the point of caring. He's not even that drunk, though. Just — loosened up the right amount. Buzzing, but not drunk. Tipsy, but not drunk. Having fun, but not drunk.

A pretty girl with a pixie cut taps on Harry's shoulder and asks for a dance, and Harry agrees, leaving Zayn behind. Zayn pouts at his back but leans back against whoever it is that's been behind him for the last minute. He looks over his shoulder, meets a pair of blue eyes and a wicked grin, dark hair falling into his face and he definitely made the right choice.

His name is Oliver and the first thing he says to Zayn is, "I know who you are."

Zayn rolls his eyes and keeps dancing, hips swaying because he can, because no one can tell him not to and he's not going to feel guilty about enjoying himself. Even if he knows Liam's somewhere around here, probably watching them closely, maybe considering butting in and pushing this guy's hands away so he can replace them with his own, and—

"Good for you," Zayn says. "But I have no idea who you are."

"Oliver," he supplies, and Zayn mouths it, tests it on his tongue.

"Are you going to whisper in my ear all night?" Zayn asks, equal parts amused and annoyed. He can't decide which. "Or are you going to actually dance with me?"

Oliver laughs, low and dark, the exact opposite of Liam's laugh, really. He spins Zayn around until they're face-to-face, Zayn's hand trapped between their bodies, splayed flat on his chest. "I could think of other ways to spend the night," he says.

Now Zayn's eye roll is less teasingly-hard-to-get and more actually irritated. "Not interested," he says. "Sorry."

Oliver shrugs, as if to say, 'Your loss, mate.' Zayn doesn't acknowledge it. He just stumbles backwards into the crowd and searches for Harry, or maybe Louis. Someone he can dance with that isn't going toexpectthings.

He thought Harry was somewhere to his left, but he looks around and can't find him. Or anyone, for that matter. It's just a sea of faces that seem to look too closely at him, who start to press in on all sides. Zayn rubs a hand over his face and shoulders through them, moving on autopilot until he manages to find a familiar place.

Only hecan't. The club isn't even all that big, but he feels trapped on the dance floor, unable to get out to where he left the others at the booths, or to the bar. Everywhere he turns, there's nothing but people and flashing lights and his heart starts hammering in his chest like it had on Harry's birthday. That panic starts to settle in, and he claws at his t-shirt, pulling it away from his neck, trying to breathe but he can't.

He notices a group of guys who've all got their faces turned towards him. There's something about them that feels familiar, even if he's never seen them before in his life. It has his blood running cold, especially when one of them starts towards him, a smirk on his face, others following behind.

Zayn whirls and smacks right into a hard, solid body. He tries to shove the arms that wrap around him away, until he's being literally lifted off the ground easily, like he weighs absolutely nothing.

It takes a moment of thrashing and shouting for him to realize that he recognizes the smell of cologne and the sweater under his fingertips. The hands carefully holding him and moving him through the crowd, not releasing him completely until he's out of it, settling him gently on the ground.

"Do I need to give you a lecture about disappearing into the crowd?" Liam asks, arms crossed over his chest. He looks both worried and angry. "Because you seriously can't do that, Zayn. If I can't get to you, it freaks me out. I can't protect you if I can't find you."

"You did, though," Zayn points out. "Find me, I mean."

"Course I did," Liam huffs out. "That's my job."

Zayn tugs a hand through his hair. It's already fallen out of its quiff from sweating and dancing, and he doesn't care at this point. He's had his fair share of horrible drunken pictures in the tabloids at this point, and he's past the point of caring if someone gets a bad shot of him. "Can it be your job to take me home now?" he asks.

It's just — he should have known not to come out tonight. Something's been twisting in his gut since the moment Harry asked him, and he should have stayed at he hotel. Should have ordered more room service, something sugary and sweet and bad for him while he watched one of his favourite movies on his laptop. Or he could have taken a bath, something he hasn't done in a while. Put on one of his playlists, something slow and relaxing and just let himself go.

Liam lifts a hand, almost touches his cheek, but he looks around at the last second and drops it like Zayn's skin was on fire and he couldn't touch him without burning himself. "Yeah," he says. "Let's go tell the others we're leaving. I think Louis' been ready to go for an hour now. Josh and Niall might want to stay. Harry left —"

"What?"

Liam gives him a look. "Went back to the hotel by himself. They were fighting again."

Zayn groans. "Can't they just stop?"

"I think," Liam says, hand brushing against Zayn's as they make their way back to the booths, "that people do a lot of stupid things when they're afraid. And for some people, there's nothing more terrifying than falling completely in love with another person."

Zayn blinks at him, taken back. Where did that even come from?

"They'll work it out," Liam adds, reassuring. "Right now I think they're both convinced that if they admit how they feel, the other will reject them, so they'd rather act like they hate each other than be the one who gets hurt."

"That was pretty insightful, Liam," Zayn says honestly. "Maybe I should get you to write songs for me, too."

Liam laughs. "I've got enough on my plate, thanks, trying to keep you out of trouble."

Zayn scoffs. He's not difficult at all, he thinks. And when he looks over at Liam, he knows that Liam would agree with him, if he said it. He doesn't, though. He grins to himself because he's still just the right amount of bubbly and buzzed, and he lets his hand brush against Liam's more than could be considered accidental.

When they get to the booth, Louis is the only one there. Or — Louis is the only one out of their group there. He's got some long haired brunette on his lap, and he's feeding her the olive from his co*cktail. "Louis," Zayn says loudly. "Where's everyone else?"

Louis hooks his chin over the girls shoulder and says, "They left. Josh can't hold his alcohol and Niall was getting pretty drunk, too, so they decided to head back to the hotel."

"I'd like to go back to the hotel," the girl in Louis' lap giggles.

Louis taps her on the nose and says, in a voice like one some people would use on a child, "Wouldn't we all, darling? But my bandmate shares a room with me and he'd probably claw your pretty little face off if I brought you back." Louis frowns. "Actually, that's a brilliant idea. Zayn, Liam, sorry but we have to go."

Liam does that arm crossing thing again, this time standing right in front of the exit to the booth. "Louis," he warns.

Louis blinks up at him, and Zayn has to smother a laugh because he actually looks chastised, which is something he's never managed to accomplish, no matter how many times he tells Louis not to do something. "But Liam—"

"No."

Louis sighs in resignation. "Sorry, babe," he says to the girl, "but it looks like I'm going home alone tonight. You can't thank Muscles here for that."

"Am I muscles?" Liam wonders, bending close so his lips nearly graze Zayn's ear.

Zayn shivers and says, "Pretty sure he's talking about me. I've been working out lately."

Liam laughs and steps back, giving Louis and the girl room to get out of the booth. By the time they leave the club, Zayn's leaning heavily on both Louis and Liam, arms slung over both of their shoulders. Unconsciously, he pulls Liam a little closer to him, but no one else has to know that. It isn't until they get in the car, and he's once again settled between two bodies, this time with Louis on his left, that he realizes how exhausted he feels. It's like he ran a marathon, pushed himself far past his limit. He tilts his head onto Liam's shoulder and closes his eyes.

He doesn't wake up until they get to the hotel. They pull up around back, and Zayn bats open his eyes slowly, a groan slipping from his lips. He stretches his arms above his head, feeling his whole body tense to the point of snapping before it relaxes. He feels like he's ten years old again, after a long road trip that he'd fallen asleep during on the way home, back when his dad would poke him awake and carry him all the way into the house and up the stairs while he did nothing but yawn and hold on tightly.

He barely has enough energy to fall out of the car behind Liam, and he nearlyliterallyfalls out of the car. At the last second Liam's arms wrap around his waist, holding him up, and Zayn wraps his own around Liam's neck. "Is it in your job description to carry me if I can't walk?"

Liam grabs the backs of his thighs and easily lifts Zayn up until his legs wrap around Liam's waist, too. "No," Liam says with a grunt, "I don't think it is."

"Your arms are ridiculous," Zayn comments as Liam carries him to the backdoor. "Like, really ridiculous."

Laughter shakes Liam's whole body and, by extension, Zayn's. "How drunk are you, exactly?"

He's really not, is the thing. Sleepy, yes. But actually drunk enough to say sh*t like that? No. But Liam doesn't know that, so Zayn giggles and presses his face into Liam's neck and takes advantage of the situation. "Not drunk at all," he mumbles, slurring the words purposefully.

"Liar."

"Not fair," Louis pipes up from behind them. Zayn lifts his head and glares at Louis, thankful that Liam can't see it. "You can't just co*ckblock me and then have your own little love fest."

"Would you like to carry him, then?" Liam asks sweetly. Louis grumbles something that's lost in Zayn's loud sound of protest. "I was kidding. I'm not putting you down, don't worry."

Zayn smirks at Louis over Liam's shoulder and wonders just how much he can get away with as they get into the elevator. He presses a sloppy kiss to Liam's neck, and Liam's grip nearly slips on him, and he feels himself falling, ass first, until Liam hikes him up higher again. And he laughs, because he can, and this can all be blamed on the alcohol tomorrow if Liam or Louis bring it up. Even if he himself knows that's not true.

When they get to their floor, Louis ruffles his hair and says, "Don't stay up too late, kiddies," before heading down the opposite end of the hall. Liam seems to know exactly where Zayn's room is, because he starts towards it without needing instructions.

"Key," Liam says when they get to the door.

Zayn thinks for a moment, trying to remember where he'd put it. "Back left pocket."

Liam hesitates. "Um, you want me to—?"

"Mhm," he says, lips close to Liam's ear. "Just grab it, Liam." His arms really are ridiculous, because he manages to hold Zayn up with one arm, muscles flexing deliciously as his other hand slides up Zayn's ass, searching for the key. "Are you getting the key or groping me?" Zayn teases.

Liam makes a surprised sound. "I— sorry, I was—"

"'s okay," Zayn assures him. He lets his eyes fall closed as he feels Liam pull the key out of his tight pocket. "I like it."

Liam nearly drops him again, and it's just — it's just too damn funny not to laugh again. "It's not that funny," Liam says, but he sounds like he wants to laugh, too. He gets the key card in the door. "You're making fun of me, aren't you?"

"No," Zayn promises as Liam pushes open the door to the room. He peppers kisses all along Liam's neck, soft, whispering kisses that have goosebumps breaking out on Liam's skin. "I would never."

Liam snorts and kicks the door closed behind himself. "I'm gonna put you on the bed, okay?"

"You should at least buy me dinner first."

"You're quite the smooth talker when you're drunk, did you know that?" Liam jokes. "But seriously, I'm putting you on the bed. You're going to have to let go."

Liam leans over the queen sized bed in the middle of the room, hands braced on it, Zayn kind of just hanging in the space between the mattress and Liam's body, refusing to let go just yet. But then he sighs and does, releasing his vice-like grip on Liam's waist and neck. He tumbles onto the mattress and blinks up at Liam, who stays there for a beat too long, just looking down at him with an indistinguishable expression on his face.

Finally he pulls back and straightens his shirt. "Okay. So, um. You okay, then? Or do you need me to carry you to the bathroom, or something?" he asks, a feeble attempt at teasing, giving the flush in his cheeks that Zayn guesses has nothing to do with the exertion it took to carry him all that way.

Zayn busies himself with toeing off his shoes. "Nah, I'm good," he says, knowing the game is over. "Thanks."

"No problem," Liam says easily. He rocks back and forth on the heels of his shoes. "I should go. See you tomorrow."

Zayn nods and Liam heads for the door. At the last second, Zayn throws his arm over his eyes and calls, before he can think of any reason not to, "Or you could stay."

He has his eyes squeezed shut on top of having them covered by his arm, and the room is so damn quiet after that. He counts to ten in his head, then twenty, and he nearly gets all the way to thirty before Liam says, "Okay."

Zayn lifts his arm, eyebrows drawing together when he meets Liam's eyes. "Really?"

Liam sighs at him. "I shouldn't," he says while kicking off his own shoes. "I really shouldn't. You're a bad influence on me, Zayn Malik."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Liam says easily. "I never said it was a bad thing."

Zayn's pretty sure Liam's a bad influence on him, too, because he doesn't do stupid sh*t this often. But he can't seem to help himself, where Liam is concerned. No matter how many times he tells himself it's a bad idea. No matter how many cons there are compared to the pros of this whole situation. He could list off a hundred reasons why he shouldn't kiss Liam, but that isn't going to stop him from wanting to anyways.

Silently, he climbs off the bed, pulls back the covers.

"I don't have any pyjamas," Liam says abruptly.

Zayn meets his eyes as he reaches for the hem of his own shirt. He pulls it up over his chest, and when it's over his head he grins at the fact that Liam's still staring at him, only now his lips are parted. "Neither do I," he says as he unbuttons his jeans.

When he's down to just his boxers, he crawls back into bed, under the covers. As soon as he pulls them up to his chest, he knows that he's not going to be able to stay up much longer. He's too tired, and he just wants to sleep. Only he wants to do that with Liam beside him.

The light in the room goes off, and a moment later the bed dips. Zayn rolls over, facing the opposite side as Liam settles in behind him. He needs a fan or something, some kind of background noise, because the only thing he can hear is Liam's uneven breathing mixing with his own.

"Just relax," he says through a yawn, tucking his hand under his pillow. "I can practically hear your mind working."

"I'm sorry," Liam whispers. "It's just… what's the protocol here? You've got to draw the line, Zayn, so I know if I'm about to cross it or not. I can never tell if I'm about to overstep my boundaries with you. If I'm accidentally going to push to far and screw this up."

Zayn has no idea where the line is, with them, but he's certain they've both crossed it already. He reaches behind himself, searching, and it takes a moment but eventually he finds Liam's hand. He wraps his fingers around it and tugs, trying to get Liam closer.

"Just sleep with me," he says quietly.

Hesitantly, Liam scoots over in the bed. He doesn't press himself against Zayn's back, the way Zayn wishes he would, but he does put a hand over Zayn's waist, and Zayn puts his own on top of it. "Night, Zayn."

"G'night."

—

"We know you're a very private person," the interviewer says, and Zayn bites his tongue. He's done enough interviews to know that this is only going to lead to personal questions, and he wants to avoid that, if he can. "But, come on, your fans would love to know what you're like when you're in a relationship."

That— isn't too bad of a question, surprisingly. He was expecting something closer to 'boxers, or briefs?' but this he can handle. He shifts a bit in his seat, still smiling politely and he'll continue to do so, even when his jaw starts to ache. "It depends," he says. "If it's casual, I like it to be private, less messy, you know?" The interviewer nods. "But when I'm really — when I care about people, I have a hard time hiding it. I think that if I was really in over my head, totally in love with someone, I'd want to tell everyone. So I guess I'd be the type of boyfriend who would spoil you. Try to give you the world and show you off. And I love to cuddle."

"Do you hear that ladies?" the interviewer coos. "He likes to cuddle."

Zayn shrugs, grin widening. "What can I say? Cuddling's nice."

"Now," the interviewer leans forward, "we know you're single at the moment, but there is one very special woman in your life, isn't there?"

Zayn frowns. "Um, I don't—"

"And we happen to have her on video call with us," the interviewer continues. Zayn sucks in a breath. He probably looks f*cking terrified right now, but only because he can't figure out what this chick's talking about. What special woman? What—

"Hey, sweetie."

Zayn's head whips around. There's a large screen just behind him, has been the whole time he's been here, only it had been blank before. Now, he sees a familiar face, smiling and huge, magnified, and — "Mum?"

Zayn has this — rule, if you will. He doesn't call his mum often. It's just so hard on them both, all the time. There hasn't been a single phone conversation between them in four years that didn't involve tears from one of them at some point. And they always leave him feeling hollow and empty. So he only calls occasionally, and then whenever he can he flies out there and spends a week or two at home because it's just — easier to talk to her when he knows there isn't miles between them. When he can wrap his arms around her and know that one of his sisters is just around the corner, or his dad is in the living room.

The last time he'd spoken to her had been just before he left for the tour. He called her, told her what was going on, promised to come see her as soon as he could. And they'd both cried, because that's what they did, and afterwards Zayn had spent the entire day curled up in his bed, missing home and childhood so much itached.

And now he's got to do this on live television. No f*cking warning. He's pissed, but more than that, he feels tears prickling his eyes already and they haven't said ten words.

"I miss you," his mum says, and the crowd aws and coos.

"I miss you, too," Zayn says thickly. He can see the kitchen behind her, and he bets it smells like spices and cookies, the way it does in his memories. "Lots."

A stern look comes over her face. "Have you been eating?"

Zayn wrinkles his nose. "Yes, mum."

The crowd and interviewer laugh, but his mother says, "You look thin. You better be taking care of yourself, young man, or you're grounded."

"Yes, ma'am," Zayn says. "I'll remember that."

When the interview is over, Zayn stumbles off stage in a daze. He gets all the way to Liam, just off stage, before it feels like too much. Before he feels himself crumbling. He grabs Liam's arm so hard he can see the skin underneath his fingertips turning white. "Get me out of here," he begs. "Now, Liam, please. Just — get me out of here."

"Hey," Liam says, hand coming up to cup the back of Zayn's head, "what's wrong? Zayn—"

"Get meout of here," Zayn hisses. He actually stomps his foot, too, and he's literally seconds away from throwing a hissy fit or bursting into tears.

Several people who work on the show look over at him, and Zayn can't care. He'd rather leave here with them thinking he's a diva than have everyone watch him cry. Hehatescrying in front of other people.

"Okay," Liam says with a curt nod. "Okay, getting you out of here. Right now."

He wraps an arm around Zayn's shoulder, and Zayn puts one around his waist, holding him close because he has to. Liam digs into his pocket and pulls out his cellphone while he moves Zayn through the building, and Zayn barely registers what he says on the phone before ending the call.

When they're in the hallway, no one around for a moment, Liam pulls him in. He feels soft lips against his temple just before Liam says, "Ten minutes, okay? Just gotta get out the door, into the car, and then back to the hotel. Ten minutes."

Zayn nods mutely, lips a thin line. He releases Liam's hip but Liam keeps his arm tight around Zayn as they head out the door, like he's refusing to let go, even if he's aware that they probably should. People are outside, and there's camera flashes, and Zayn buries his face in Liam's chest until they get to the car. He doesn't care, either.

Once they pull away from the building, Liam shrugs out of his seatbelt and scoots over so he's in the middle seat. He cards a hand gently through Zayn's hair, and Zayn closes his eyes and makes a content sound, breathing easier for the first time since his mum showed up on screen.

Like he can read Zayn's thoughts, Liam quietly asks, "Is this about your mum?"

Zayn sniffles and hates himself for it. "Did you watch the interview?"

"Most of it, yeah," Liam admits. "She seems great."

"She is," Zayn agrees. "She—f*ck, I had no idea they were doing that. I just — I miss her. I miss her so much."

Liam brushes the hair off his forehead, touches feather-light and gentle, like he's afraid he's going to scare Zayn off. "Tell me about her."

Zayn snorts, thinking that Liam can't be serious. But when he looks over, Liam's eyes are wide and expectant, and heis. "Um." He's never had to really describe his mother to someone before. The other have all met her (her and Louis are actually best friends, which is just weird and Zayn doesn't think about it all that much), and no one else ever asks. He tries to think of something important, anything, and he smiles. "She can't bake for sh*t. You know those premade cookies? She burns even those, so my dad always makes them. And she makes thebestspaghetti in the entire world and I've always been her favourite. And she can't sing. She'shorribleat it but she does it all the time anyways, and she listens to top forty sh*t instead of normal old people music, so it's really embarrassing when I'm in the car with her because she'll crank, like, Beyoncé and just go to town on it."

Liam laughs. "So where'd you get the talent, then?"

"Dunno," Zayn admits. "My whole family's tone deaf, really. But she did teach me how to draw."

"Draw?" Liam makes a face at him. "You can't draw, too. That's not fair."

"Why not?" Zayn demands.

"Because," Liam says, yanking a strand of Zayn's hair just a tad too hard, "you've already got the most amazing voice I've ever heard. You write these beautiful, touching songs. And you're possibly the most attractive person on the planet. That's it. You're not allowed to get anything else. 's not fair to the rest of us."

Zayn is a vain person, apparently, because all that sticks out to him is, "Most attractive person on the planet?"

Liam's fingers move out of his hair and down his jaw. "Don't act like you don't know it," he says softly. "You're beautiful. Here." His fingertips brush over Zayn's bottom lip before moving down to his chest. "And in here. And you know it." He drops his hand finally, letting it fall into his own lap. "Now go on, tell me more. What about your sisters?"

And Zayn does, the whole way back to the hotel until the car comes to a final stop. He feels a million times better, with Liam's gentle prompting every time he thinks he's run out of things to say. With their hands finding each other once again, because that's become a thing, apparently. With Liam justthere, like Zayn is starting to realize he needs him to be at all times.

"I'd love to meet them one day," Liam says offhandedly, with the kind of unabashed, easy sincerity that he's starting to realize only Liam is really capable of, as he undoes his seatbelt.

Zayn freezes, his own hands pausing in their movements. Liam continues to get out of the car, completely unaware. And that's just — that's it. That's the moment, for Zayn. He can look back on whatever happens from this point on one day, and he'll be able to say that this was the exact moment when he decided on Liam Payne.

They get all the way to the elevator, Liam reaching to press the buttons for both of their floors, when Zayn cracks and hits the one for the top floor, just like he had done the last time he and Liam were alone in an elevator.

"Need another moment?" Liam asks, reaching for his hand, like it's instinctual at this point.

Zayn pushes his hand away in favour of grabbing Liam's hips and crowding him up against the wall of the elevator. "Several, actually," he says. Liam looks a little shocked, eyes wide, but he puts his arms around Zayn's neck anyways. "Hundreds," Zayn corrects, leaning in closer. "Thousands." His lips nearly brush Liam's. "Millions, maybe."

"If you're going to kiss me just do it, you dork," Liam teases.

Zayn nearly does, gets so close, but at the last second he pulls back and says, "Not sure if I'm going to be able to stop if I do."

"You're gonna have to," Liam says regretfully. "We have to be packed and on the bus in about half an hour."

Zayn groans and tucks his head into the crook of Liam's neck. "I forgot."

Once again, Liam's fingers run through his hair. It should irritate him, since it probably makes it look horribly messy, but it just feels nice, Liam's nails occasionally dragging over his scalp. "Are you still going to want to kiss me in half an hour?" he asks.

Zayn snorts because, yeah, Liam. He's pretty sure he's going to spend the indefinite future wanting to kiss Liam. "Yeah, most likely."

"Okay." Liam kisses his forehead. "Then meet me in the bus in half an hour." He steps around Zayn and presses the button for his own floor. "Deal?"

—

"What— happened to— me not being your—oh— type?" Liam pants, words coming out choked.

Zayn groans and bites at his neck, pushing him harder up against — the table, is it? He can't tell. The tour bus is really not made for this kind of thing, and he's sure Liam's back is aching. "Lied," Zayn says simply, pulling back to watch his teeth marks appear and disappear on Liam's skin. "Have you looked at yourself? You're everyone's type."

"I'm pretty sure that's you," Liam argues, hands pulling up the back of Zayn's shirt. His nails sting as they scratch up Zayn's back, and it's f*cking lovely, really. "Kiss me again, Zayn. Come on. Please."

So he does, lips skating over Liam's jaw, first, then his cheek, finally landing on his mouth. Liam's lips are already parted, and he bites at the bottom one. It's full and pink and slick from earlier kisses, and he can't help it. He doesn't regret the decision when Liam lets out a whine, either, and he does it again just because he can.

The only dilemma he's currently having is deciding whether he'd rather push Liam down against the nearest surface and see how long it takes until he's writhing and whining, or have Liam mandhandle him up against a wall and show him what he's really made of. It's a tough decision. So instead of making it, he kisses Liam again until Liam's tugging at his hair and pushing his tongue into Zayn's mouth.

Zayn stumbles backwards and fists a hand in Liam's shirt, pulling him along, and now it'shisback that hits something (armrest of the couch, he thinks, but he's not entirely certain) and Liam crowds him up against it, fitting a leg between both of his own. Zayn grinds against him on instinct, fully hard already and not embarrassed about it at all, mostly because Liam's lips slip from his own as he lets out a low moan.

"Is this really happening?" Liam asks, words coming out between the kisses he's pressing to Zayn's neck.

Zayn tilts his head, giving him more room. "Pretty sure it is, yeah."

"Sorry," Liam says quickly, hands sliding up and down Zayn's sides, like he can't quite control them. Zayn knows that feeling, too, since it's vibrating through his body and all he can think isLiamLiamLiamand all he canfeelis Liam and this insistent need to get more. "I'm just trying to wrap my head around how this is really happening."

Liam's words fade away as he bites at Zayn's neck. His teeth sink in, just a bit, and Zayn keens becauseouchbut alsoyes,because that feels so f*cking good that he almost forgets. "No marks," Zayn groans, tugging at Liam's hair. "No marks where people can see them."

"Sorry, sorry," Liam mumbles again, kissing the spot as if to make up for it. He pushes at the collar of Zayn's shirt, and there's this quiet tearing sound, like he ripped the seams, but Zayn doesn't even care because Liam's stretching the material down over his shoulder and sucking at the skin there instead. "Here okay?"

He's trying to listen to Liam's words, he really is, but getting Liam out of his shirt seems a lot more important, in this moment, than trying to have a conversation. "Yeah, sure," Zayn says offhandedly, tugging at the bottom of the shirt. "Can you just. Off now, yeah?"

Liam takes a step back and pulls his shirt over his head. Zayn watches it fall to the ground, and then he slowly moves his gaze up Liam's legs and then—f*ck. He's just —f*ck.

"What?" Liam asks, raising a single eyebrows.

He knows Liam's muscular. He's exposed to those ridiculous f*cking arms on a daily basis. But he wasn't prepared for how wide Liam's chest is, or the defined stomach muscles, or the dark, course hair that covers his chest and his stomach, or his thick shoulders and collarbones that Zayn wants to mark with his lips and his teeth, and— Basically Liam is just really, really f*cking hot, to the point where it's almost offensive.

"You know what," Zayn snaps. "Don't act like you don't."

Liam grins and steps towards him. "I like to stay in shape," he admits, hands reaching for Zayn again. The bus hits something on the road, though, and he remembers that they'removing, just as Liam crashes into him. Liam steadies them and laughs, wild and without a care in the world against Zayn's neck. "I feel like this is a really dangerous place to try and…."

He trails off, and now Zayn's the one smirking. "Try and what?"

Liam flushes. "I'm not sure, actually," he admits. That burning frenzy seems to slow and simmer as he reaches up and cups Zayn's cheek. "What are we doing? What's the goal here? Are we just …? Or are we…?"

Zayn's only goal was to get Liam naked. But, at the same time, "Whatever you want, babe." He doesn't want to push Liam into something he's not ready for, and he doesn't want to be the one crossing the line, either.

Liam drops his gaze to the floor between them as his hand slides under Zayn's shirt, tracing his spine. "We've only got about nine hours before the next stop," he says with a chuckle. "Don't think that's enough time for everything I want to do with you."

Maybe he does get what Liam was saying about having issues wrapping his head around this, because Zayn really can't fathom how he's this lucky. How he gets to have an amazing life and an amazing family and amazing friends, and he gets someone like Liam in his life too, on top of all that. It's too good to be true, it is, and he'd pinch himself to prove that it's real if he could stop moving his hands up and down Liam's muscular back, but he can't so he doesn't.

"Maybe we should start by getting to the bed, though," Liam suggests.

Zayn nods because, yeah, that's probably a good idea. But it's awkward, moving through the bus together with this heavy weight of what's about to happen settling over top of them. Or it is until Liam makes a frustrated sound and pushes him down onto the couch, crawling on top of him instantly.

"Or the couch," Zayn says with a laugh.

"Bed's too far," Liam explains. He pulls at Zayn's shirt. "Yours too, come on."

Zayn obliges, lifting his arms, and his shirt disappears with a flick of Liam's wrist. He closes his eyes and tilts his head up, waiting for Liam's lips to find his again, but they don't. He blinks his eyes back open, and Liam's just… staring down at him blankly, lip caught between his teeth.

"What are you thinking?" Zayn wonders, trying not to be self-conscious about the way Liam's looking at him. But he's seen this look on Liam's face a hundred times, and he still can't work out of it's a good thing or a bad one.

Liam shakes his head. "Nothing, sorry." And he leans in for another kiss, but Zayn pushes him back a bit.

"Tell me."

Liam groans. "I just don't get why you'd even — you're just— and I—"

"Those weren't even full sentences," Zayn teases.

Liam hides his face in the crook of Zayn's neck, like he's embarrassed. "Sometimes I look at you and I just don't understand how one person manages to be so freaking perfect, and right now I'm just trying to figure out what the hell you're doing with someone like me, because it doesn't make any sense."

Zayn's chest feels tight all of a sudden, like Liam's sitting on it instead of straddling his hips. And while Liam might be the bigger of the two, Zayn isn't exactly lacking in the muscles department, and it doesn't take him much effort to lift them both up and drop Liam onto his back on the sofa. He lets out a surprised sound when he hits it, and Zayn would laugh if he weren't too busy kissing down Liam's chest.

"Don't say things like that," he mutters against Liam's stomach.

"Won't be able to— say anything if you— keep—that." The last word comes out as more of a moan than anything, and later they'll revisit this conversation, but right now he sort of just wants to get Liam to make that sound again.

"This?" he asks sweetly, nipping at the skin just above the waistband of Liam's boxers, which are peaking up over his jeans.

"Oh, God," Liam says tightly. "You're evil, d'you know that?"

Teasing Liam Payne, Zayn learns, is possibly the greatest thing in the entire world. Maybe even greater than standing on stage, listening to thousands scream his name. Because Liam makes these aborted, lost sounds every time Zayn presses his lips to a new patch of skin (which is often, since he may be a bit fixated on Liam's abs but, really, who could blame him?), or scratches his nails down Liam's still-clothed thighs. He keeps it up, looking up at Liam occasionally with wide, innocent eyes, like he has absolutely no idea what he's doing. And, without fail, Liam will groan at him each time and lift his hips up, begging with his body because he can't seem to make himself do it with his words.

There's no doubt in his mind that Liam could easily manoeuvre them, flip them over without even breaking a sweat and take complete control, show Zayn just how fun it is to be the one on the receiving end of the teasing. But he doesn't, and that does something to Zayn. The knowledge that Liam could easily dominate him but has instead given him complete control to do whatever he pleases.

It had crossed his mind, at some point, to take this slow. To take Liam on a proper date or something before they jump into bed together. To make a point, let Liam know that he wants more than just a fumbled hook-up because hedoes. A lot more. So much more. But he's going to have to do that later because he's achingly hard, and he can tell that Liam's straining against his jeans, too, and he can'tnottake this farther right now.

Zayn traces the zipper of Liam's jeans slowly, and Liam tries to push up against him while stuttering out, "Are you going to make me ask for it?" sounding both frustrated and needy.

He wasn't, actually, but now that Liam's suggested it… He shrugs and boldly mouths at the fabric of Liam's jeans, hoping that Liam can see the faint smirk on his lips.

"Okay, okay," Liam says breathlessly. "Please. Just — please."

Next time he vows to see how hard he can push Liam until he really breaks, but for now he gives in, popping open the button on Liam's jeans easily. He slides down the zipper and Liam lifts his hips to help get them off, and then he pushes off his own boxers with no help from Zayn, a slight glare on his face like he could tell exactly what Zayn was thinking, and he knew it'd be another round of teasing before those came off too.

Zayn rubs his hands up and down Liam's thighs and, like Liam had said that night at the charity event, takes a moment to process. It's overwhelming, the fact that less than twenty-four hours ago he was still telling himself that it'd be too stupid and reckless to do this, and now he's got Liam completely f*cking naked on the couch of his tour bus, propped up on his elbows with his bottom lip caught between his teeth and wide, pleading eyes.

"You don't have to," Liam blurts, and Zayn glares at up at him for it. Liam holds himself up on one arm and presses a thumb to Zayn's bottom lip. He does that a lot, touch Zayn's face. Trailing his fingertips over it like he's learning how every part of it feels. "Seriously. If you've changed your mind, it's okay. Don't feel like you have to."

Zayn swats his hand away. "I was admiring, not having doubts," he states.

Liam flushes, right down to his chest. "Oh."

"Unless you'd like me to stop…." He lets the words hang between them while squeezing Liam's thighs, thumbs sliding up higher, close to where Liam's hard and curving towards his stomach but never actually touching him there.

It's almost odd, how comfortable Liam seems to be while completely naked in his presence, the lights of the tour bus illuminating his entire body. But he doesn't seem to mind anything but the fact that Zayn is still teasing him. "Don't," Liam says quickly. "Stop, I mean. Don't stop. Just. Quit playing with me and just — please."

Liam's hand slips out from under himself the second Zayn wraps a hand around him, and he falls flat against the couch, head craned to meet Zayn's eyes. And Zayn can't help it, the way he makes a show of licking his lips until he knows they're slick and shiny. The way he keeps his eyes trained on Liam's as he lowers his head and licks a stripe from where his fingers curl around the base all the way to the head. Liam's legs jerk on either side of him, bending at the knee and spreading a little wider, and Zayn knows he has him. His whole stance screamsvulnerable, like he's handing himself over to be ruined, and Zayn loves it. Can't believe they both seriously managed to wait this long to do this.

"God, you're beautiful," Liam says quietly, reaching down to card a hand through Zayn's hair as Zayn wraps his lips around the tip of him. He wonders if Liam's just saying that because Zayn's got his dick in his mouth, or if he means it. But Liam's looking down at him like a man who just won the lottery and can't believe his luck. "Perfect."

Zayn grunts at him and lowers his lips until they hit his fingers. Liam's stomach muscles tighten as he sucks in a harsh breath, but he doesn't try to push up farther into Zayn's mouth, the way Zayn knows he himself is prone to doing. He doesn't pull to hard at Zayn's hair, either, or try to push him farther down. Zayn rewards him by speeding up, tightening his fist and bringing it up to meet his mouth whenever he can.

Liam's head falls back against the couch eventually, like he can't hold it up any longer, and he's letting out a litany of, "Zayn, you're just — you—f*ck,I can't— I—" barely coherent as Zayn works him over. At one point Zayn pulls off him only long enough to say "I have a show tomorrow or I'd let you f*ck my mouth," and Liam just whimpers at him, like he can't even form a proper response to that.

Liam's fingers finally tug at his hair, just before he says, rushed and a bit frantic, "Close, Zayn, you have to—"

Zayn tightens his grip on Liam's co*ck, tongue working at the head as his hand works over the rest of his length, and Liam stares down at him, lips open in a silent 'o', grip going slack in Zayn's hair. His entire body tenses, and his legs squeeze closed on either side of Zayn's body, almost trapping him there as Liam comes down his throat. He swallows as best as he can before pulling off and taking a shuddering breath, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand.

Liam just — collapses against the sofa completely. Zayn crawls into the spot between his body and the back of the sofa, hand flat on his chest, head resting on his arm. He closes his eyes and listens to Liam's quiet, shallow breathing, and he's content. He's still f*cking hard, obviously, but Liam looks too wrecked to do anything, and Zayn's honestly okay if he doesn't get anything because watching Liam unravel like that was worth it.

"I think I'm broken," Liam groans eventually, when his heartbeat is no longer racing against Zayn's palm. "Knew you'd break me eventually, just didn't think it'd be like that." He rubs Zayn's neck and presses his lips to the top of Zayn's head. "Can I return the favour?"

Zayn blinks up at him. "You don't have to."

"Wouldn't offer if I thought I did," Liam says seriously. His hand trails down Zayn's back. "Want to." He squeezes Zayn's ass, his voice lowering as he does. "Might be one of the only things I think about, tasting you, watching you lose yourself, all because of my mouth."

Zayn nearly chokes on thin air. "Where did that even come from?"

Liam laughs at him. "'I'd let you f*ck my mouth if I didn't have a show tomorrow'," he mocks. "Probably the same place as that."

"Okay, fair enough," Zayn chuckles. "But do you… um…." His mind short circuit's the second Liam cups him through his jeans. Too much material, too light, but it doesn't even matter to his dick, apparently, because it aches at the touch, and he feels so turned on that it's like he'll burst at any second. "f*ck."

"Stand up," Liam urges, swinging his own legs over the side of the couch. He doesn't stop there, though, and he's sliding all the way off it until he's kneeling on the floor, completely naked, like every f*cking wet dream Zayn's ever had.

"Stand up?" Zayn repeats. "Why?" But he's already getting up, even before he gets an answer.

Liam reaches for the button on Zayn's jeans, and he undoes it easily. "Because," he says casually, tugging down the zipper, "unlike you, I don't have a show tomorrow."

The full meaning of that isn't clear to Zayn right away, but when it hits him he staggers forward a bit, hand braced on Liam's shoulder to keep himself upright. That part in his mind wonders once again if this is going too fast, if they're too comfortable with each other too easily, but he can't really think much with Liam on his knees, tugging Zayn's pants down.

Where Zayn was all teasing, Liam is straight to the point, an almost determined look on his face as he wraps his lips around Zayn's co*ck. Zayn doesn'tmeanto grab so hard at his hair, but Liam's mouth slides down him, warm and wet and wonderful, and he has to consciously tell himself to let up on the strands in his hand. But Liam moans around him and grabs Zayn's hips with both of his hands, and Zayn's pretty sure that helikesthe hair pulling.

Liam pulls his hips forward a bit, looking up at Zayn with a pointed look in his eyes. He didn't think Liam was serious, but apparently he is. And that's almost enough to have him pushing roughly into Liam's mouth, but instead he moans and slowly, carefully eases himself farther in. Liam justtakes it, even when he pushes in farther later on, hitting his throat and then going even farther. Liam Payne, the walking contraction with the sweet personality, ridiculous muscles, and a mouth like sin.

He doesn't last long. Not as long as Liam had, but he's pretty sure that it's a miracle he lasted as long as he had, given the way Liam looked like that, on his knees with those wide brown eyes blinking up at Zayn. Afterwards, Zayn gets what he meant. He feels shattered, wrecked, completely ruined. The only thing keeping him on his shaking legs is his hand on Liam's shoulder.

Liam seems to get that, at least, and he puts an arm around Zayn's waist as he stands back up, and then he's lifting Zayn easily off the ground, carrying him through the bus until they finally make it to the backroom.

"You okay?" Liam asks after laying him down on the bed, looking concerned, like he might have actually broken Zayn beyond repair. Which is entirely possibly.

"You're still naked," Zayn says, because, in his post-org*sm bliss, this is the only important thought that comes to mind.

"So are you," Liam points out, which — yeah, good point. Now that he's said it, Zayn's a bit self-conscious. He bends his legs a little and pulls at the blankets to cover himself. "I'll go get your clothes."

Zayn watches him go, eying Liam's ass the whole time, and maybe his thighs, too, because they're muscular and distracting. When he comes back, he's got his own boxers on and nothing else. He tosses Zayn his clothes and actually turns around to give Zayn a moment to get dressed. Unlike Liam, he pulls on his shirt, too, but he tosses his jeans to the ground afterwards, forgoing them for the time being.

"You can turn around," he says a moment later.

Liam does with a sheepish smile on his face. He crosses his arms over his chest and leans in the doorway, eyes on the ground. "Um." He makes an embarrassed face. "That was probably a really bad idea, wasn't it?"

"Completely," Zayn deadpans.

Liam looks up, wounded. "Oh. Right." He winces. "It was, yeah. It — completely stupid."

"Extremely stupid," Zayn agrees.

"I'm sorry," Liam offers. "I'll just — I'll go sleep on the couch and if you want me to move back to the other bus tomorrow, I will."

Zayn groans and, before he can think of many, many good reasons not to, he points to the cupboard just beside where Liam is standing. "Can you go in there for me?" he asks. "On the second shelf, there's a box."

Liam looks more than a little lost. "What?"

"Just — pass me the shoebox in there, Liam," Zayn says. He tugs a hand through his hair and breathes deeply. "Please."

Liam still looks confused but he obeys, pulling open the cupboard door and carefully taking out the box. He places it on the bed in front of Zayn and steps back, arms going around his stomach, like he's regretting not putting his shirt back on now.

"Sit," Zayn orders, waving at the spot on the bed beside himself. He pulls off the lid of he box and puts it beside himself before grabbing the two nearest notebooks. He tosses the newest one aside, going for the other one, the one that he'd been working on when he first met Liam. "I want to show you something."

There are only two people in the entire world who Zayn has ever opened this box in front of: Harry, and his mum. So doing it right now, in front of Liam, has him freaking out a little, hands shaking with nerves as Liam settles himself stiffly on the edge of the bed. Zayn tries to ignore him for a moment as he flips through the notebook.

He keeps everything dated, that way he'll be able to remember exactly when he wrote something. He goes back to almost the very beginning of the notebook, back before he'd even met Liam. The entire page is crossed out, words that just didn't work, that sounded forced and chunky and uninspired, that he'd scratched out furiously while hating himself for being unable to do this one thing that he's supposed to be good at.

"I couldn't write anything," he explains, pushing the book towards Liam. "See?" He starts flipping the pages, almost every single one looking like the others, a constant stream of scratched out, unusable words. "And then I could."

Liam's hesitantly reaching for the notebook, and Zayn hesitantly hands it over to him. Not many people ever get to see his unfinished work, and it has him squirming, Liam's eyes drifting over the page. "Why are you showing me this?" Liam asks, like he knows just how big of a deal this is.

Zayn pulls the book back and points at the top. "That was the day when we went for that walk, remember? And it rained and—"

"I remember," Liam says.

"Right. And I went home that night, and it was still raining, and I just — wrote. And since then it's just come so easy, and I think it's… I think it has to do with you." Zayn frowns down at the notebook. It's so obvious, now that he's said it out loud, but he hadn't really pieced the whole thing together before this point. But it is, isn't it? It's all Liam. Maybe every word wasn't written with him in mind, maybe every single line isn't about him, but he's the one who pushed through Zayn's writers block. He's the reason Zayn feels inspired again.

"I don't get it," Liam admits. "I'm sorry, I'm lost. And I should probably go. Let you sleep."

Zayn shakes his head and grabs Liam's hand. He firmly locks their fingers together and squeezes. "What I was trying to prove to you is that — yeah, what happened was really stupid. And this?" He waves a hand between the two of them. "Is equally stupid. Andf*ckyou'd be risking your job, not to mention the fact that it'd be really uncomfortable for everyone if it didn't work out, but — I don't regret it. At all. And I'd like for what happened today to happen again. And again. Like, all the time, if you'd like it to. And what happened wasn't just some spur of the moment thing. I've been wanting to do that for a long time, but recently the reasons why I shouldn't stopped outweighing the reasons why I should, so I went for it."

There's that closed off, blank look on Liam's face again. He drops his gaze to their twined hands and takes a long, unsteady breath, and Zayn realizes that he may have just made a huge mistake. He'd just assumed that Liam would want more, that what he just said was something Liam would want to hear, but what if that's not true? What if Liamwantedjust a one time thing? What if Zayn is the only one here who wants more than that?

Suddenly he gets how Louis and Harry have been acting. Sees how much easier it would have been to let he and Liam leave on bad terms than try to talk about feelings, or whatever.

"I'd be okay with it happening again," Liam eventually says. "Extremely okay with it."

"Really?" He hates how eager that comes out, but he can't help it.

Liam laughs and tackles him back onto the bed, careful to not crush the box between them. "What did you think I was going to say?" Liam demands. "No, sorry Zayn Malik, international popstar who I've sort of had a crush on since I was eighteen and his video for Tonight's For Us came out, I don't think I'd like to hook-up with you again. My sincerest apologies."

Zayn laughs and spreads his legs a little wider, giving Liam more room to fit between them. "Wait," he says slowly, co*cking his head to the said. "You've had a crush on me since you were eighteen?"

Liam shakes his head sternly. "I never said that."

"Really, though?" he asks, because that's sort of adorable.

Liam groans and rolls off him. "Maybe. You were quite fit in that video, if I remember. And I sort of bought the entire album and listened to it on a loop for about three months. My neighbours probably hated me. And you."

Zayn sits up, legs crossed, and traces Liam's stomach muscles. "Is that why you took the job?" he wonders. "Because you liked me and you thought you could get in my pants if you could just get closer to me?"

Liam looks up sharply, eyes wide. Zayn laughs to let him know he's joking, and Liam shoves at him playfully. "Shut up. And I didn't even know it was you until I'd already agreed to go to the interview. The agency is pretty discreet with certain clients, and they only told me that someone of extreme importance was in need of a round-the-clock bodyguard who could be available on a moments notice. And I needed the money, so I said I'd take the job, and it wasn't until I got to your building and your doorman said, 'Mr. Malik is on the seventh floor, sir,' that I realized who you were. And I kind of had a panic attack in the elevator before hand."

Zayn snorts a laugh until Liam glares at him. "Sorry. But you were really that nervous?" Because he can't imagine that, not with how calm and together Liam had been at the interview, even in the face of Louis Tomlinson who can be more than a little terrifying the first time you meet him.

"You're a pretty intimidating person," Liam admits. "And you seemed really, really pissed off that day, too."

Now it's Zayn's turn to look embarrassed. He picks at a non-existent loose thread in his shirt. "You probably thought I was a prick, right?"

"A little," Liam admits. "Until I got to know you."

Zayn chews at the inside of his lip. "Now what do you think of me?" he hesitates to ask.

Liam props himself up on his elbows. "I'll tell you another time," he promises. "Can I ask you a question now?"

Zayn shrugs and starts putting away his notebooks. He carefully places the lid back on the box and puts it away, waiting for Liam to get it out.

Liam looks like he's bracing himself. "I've had exactly three relationships in my entire life," he states. "One of those was when I was twelve, so it doesn't really count. But the other two were pretty serious." He gives Zayn that wide-eyed look again. "So I guess I just want to know what you want from this? Should I be prepared for you to see other people, or did you want something more… real? With us, I mean."

He's done too many interviews in his life to just blurt out the first answer that comes to mind. And while he does want something more real with Liam, wants something serious. Wants to take him back home and introduce him to his family just like Liam said he'd like. But he can't just say that because they can't justhave that. "It won't be what you want," Zayn says lowly. He stands just at the end of the bed, and Liam levels him with a steady look. "I can't just hold your hand in front of anyone, and you can't just kiss me whenever you want. We're not going to be able to go on dates whenever we want. We'd have to hide it, Liam, you get that, right? If you want to keep your job, we'd have to pretend like it wasn't happening."

"I figured as much," Liam says. "I know what I'd be getting into."

"No, you don't," Zayn insists. He crawls onto the bed and straddles Liam's hips, hands bracing on Liam's shoulders. "You might think you do, but you don't. You'd have to act like this — every time we're together, you're going to have to act like it never happened out in the real world. And you're going to have to sit there and listen to me do countless interviews where I say there'snothingbetween us. And eventually you're going to start wondering if maybe it reallyispretend. If maybe I'm just screwing you on the side and hooking up with other people in private, too, and it'll ruin it. It always does."

"You sound like you're talking from experience," Liam says quietly.

Zayn sighs and leans back, but he's still sitting on top of Liam. "It was different. I didn't — it wouldn't have worked between us anyways, but, yeah. There was a guy and we were together for a bit when my career first started, and I wasn't exactly out to the public about my sexuality yet, so we kept it a secret. And eventually it got to him, and he called it off because he said he couldn't handle being a dirty little secret anymore."

Liam's hands grab his hips, as if to steady him. His thumbs brush circles through Zayn's t-shirt, and he doesn't look at all upset over what Zayn just said. "I can handle it," he says seriously. "It's obviously not ideal, but if you really want to try this, then I can handle the rest."

"What if I can't?" Zayn asks. He's not sure if he can. Not sure if he can stop himself from pulling Liam towards him whenever he gets the chance, not sure if he can resist kissing Liam every time he smiles or says something that makes Zayn's stomach twist and turn in the best possible way. He's not the kind of person who does things halfway, and he doesn't know if he can handle being with Liam in private and not shout it to the whole world that Liam is his.

"Then you let me know," Liam says simply. "If you decide you want to change your mind, you tell me. And I'll deal with it."

Zayn bites his cheek, stalling. "You're sure?"

"Positive."

"Okay, then," Zayn agrees. "I guess we're… dating. Privately."

"Does that mean I'm allowed to kiss you now?"

Zayn smiles down at him. "I guess you've earned it, after a four year long crush and all."

"You're never going to let that go, are you?" Liam sighs.

Zayn leans down, lips inches from Liam's. "Never."

—

And it's that easy. That easy to just slip into thisthingwith Liam. Relationships, technically, but it feels like more than that, ridiculously enough. Nights spent on the tour bus playing video games with Liam that end with them both sprawled out in Zayn's bed, out of breath from kissing and teasing each other. It's during these nights that Zayn learns everything he can about Liam, quietly muttered secrets that shine light on the darker parts of Liam's life that Zayn had yet to discover. He learns that Liam dropped out during his last year of college, and that he'd decided on security because it was easy and he liked the idea of protecting people. His favourite colours are blue and red ("I can't chose between them," he'd whined when Zayn asked) and he doesn't like ice cream at all. He's got two sisters, and his parents are still together, and he visits them as often as he can. He likes the same kind of music as Zayn and likes the same kind of movies and TV shows. And they justfit,so f*cking easily. It's like this was meant to happen, like Zayn is meant to fit in the spot just under Liam's arm, tucked against his side. It's like Liam's lips were made to fit against Zayn's.

This is both a wonderful and terrible thing, in Zayn's opinion. It's great when they're alone. When they're at a hotel and he sneaks Liam into his room, or when they're on the bus. Because no one's around, and they don't have to hold back. He can lean over and capture Liam's lips with his own and push him against the back of the sofa and run his fingertips over Liam's skin. He can bury his face in the crook of Liam's neck and laugh without a care because he doesn't have one. But they can't live in these places, and it's hard. Being out in public with Liam and not being able to touch him drives Zayn mad. Not being able to just grab his hand and show him off.

And he can't always resist that urge to touch Liam like they're alone, so it's really no surprise that they get caught.

They're out on the town for the day. Louis and Niall wanted to do some shopping, and Zayn figured he could use the fresh air and maybe a t-shirt that isn't wrinkled and hasn't been worn fifteen times. He never packs enough when he goes on tour, and it's actually a surprise that he's lasted this long. Though, admittedly, he would have run out of clothes a while ago if he hadn't taken to stealing Liam's shirts because they smell like him.

Lou and Niall are in the change rooms, and Liam's slouching around, looking a bit lost. Zayn's got a t-shirt in his arms that he wants to try on after one of the change rooms is free, and he sneaks up behind Liam and presses his lips to the very obvious, very noticeable lovebite on his neck. ("I thought you said no visible marks!" "Onme. You're fair game, Liam.")

Liam doesn't even jump. It's like he's memorized how Zayn's lips feel, and he doesn't have to turn to know it's him. "What are you doing?" he asks, holding still, like he's worried Zayn will stop if he moves.

Zayn grins against his neck. "Mine," he whispers, because Liam is, even if it's not permanent. Who knows how long this will last? How long they'll both be willing to do this? But Zayn's not thinking about that. He's only thinking about the fact that they have this for now, and that's enough for him.

Liam finally turns, a fond grin on his face. "You're very possessive," he says. "I didn't realize that when we first started this."

Zayn shrugs. "Does that bother you?"

"No," Liam says. He leans in, lips so close to Zayn's that he almosthasto taste them. "As long as I get to leave marks on you one day. Show everyone that you're mine, too."

"I f*ckingknewit."

Zayn literally jumps away from Liam, eyes wide. He doesn't miss the slightly wounded look Liam gives him, but he can't do anything to comfort it right now because Louis is smirking at them and shaking his head like he'd just stumbled upon something great.

"How long?" he asks, waving between Zayn and Liam.

Zayn glares at him. "Don't know what you're talking about," he says, just as Liam says, "'bout two and a half weeks."

"Liam."

"What?" he shrugs, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "He already knows. Telling him the date isn't going to change that."

"Knows what?" Niall calls from the change room. "I can't see! What am I missing?"

Louis leans on Niall's door and says, too quietly for the store clerk (a bored looking guy who's slouching against the counter and not paying them any attention at all) to hear, "Zayn and Liam are dating."

"Oh," Niall says. "You're just realizing his now? They got together that day after the interview with his mum. You can always tell when Zayn's gotten laid because he —"

"Gross," Louis says, cutting him off. He looks really annoyed all of a sudden. "But seriously, you thought you could hide it even from us?"

It was mutually decided between them not to tell the others, mostly because Louis has a big mouth, but also because… Zayn isn't really sure. It just felt like something he wanted to keep to himself, not just because it would jeopardize Liam's job. It's like their relationship is this fragile, untainted thing, and Zayn is worried that if they tell people, it'll ruin it. As stupid as that is, it was a risk he just wasn't willing to take.

"Zayn wanted to tell you," Liam says. "I asked him not to."

Niall comes out of the change room, dressed in a simple white t-shirt. "Think Josh'll like it?"

"It looks nice," Liam offers awkwardly.

"I should have seen this coming," Louis realizes. "Look at him. And he's socharming. Dear God, Zayn, you're like Britney and Kevin Feder—whatever, only he's your bodyguard, not your backup dancer."

Zayn can't help but think that this is exactly why they hadn't told anyone. But Liam, on the other hand, seems pretty pleased over the whole thing. So maybe it's not that bad, if it puts that slight smile on Liam's face.

Liam tugs him forward, pulling them flush together. There's no one else in the shop but the cashier, at least, and there aren't any fans or cameras outside, so he allows it. And maybe thisisa good thing, because now that Louis and Niall know, the others are going to find out, and they're going to have to hide a little less. Which means a little more time where he's allowed moments like this.

"You okay?" Liam whispers, lips by his ear.

"They were going to find out eventually," Zayn admits. "Guess I'm glad it was sooner rather than later. They probably would have been a bit upset if we'd of waited forever to tell them."

"Definitely would have been," Louis says. "And you're a sh*t whisperer."

Zayn groans and steps back. "I'm going to go try this on," he says, lifting up the shirt in his hand.

He heads into the change room and hears Niall duck back into the one beside him. As he's pulling off his shirt, he hears Louis whisper, almost inaudibly, "So you two are seriously together?"

"No," Liam whispers right back. "We're just screwing with you."

"Nice hickey, by the way," Louis teases. "You're both terrible at the secret relationship thing. I'm actually disappointed in myself for taking this long to realize."

They're quiet for a moment and Zayn holds his breath, thinking maybe he just can't hear them, or they moved somewhere else in the store. And then he hears Liam's soft, hesitant, "Is it okay, that we're together?"

Louis snorts loudly, but he's still whispering when he replies. "Is this your way of asking my permission?"

He can just imagine what Liam's doing right now. He's probably got his gaze on the floor, or on a rack of clothing, anything but Louis' eyes. And he's probably rubbing at the back of his neck with one hand, maybe sucking on his bottom lip the way he's prone to do. "You guys mean the world to him," he hears Liam say, and he knows he's not supposed to be hearing this. That they both think he can't. "And he means pretty close to that to me, so I'm sort of hoping that you're okay with it."

Again, it's quiet, and Zayn starts to pull on the shirt he's supposed to be trying on. Until he hears Louis. He freezes, straining to hear. "Would you stop seeing him if I told you that I didn't approve?"

Liam makes a choking sound. "I couldn't even if I wanted to," he says, louder than he probably intended. "Until the day he doesn't want me anymore, I'll probably be right there beside him."

Louis hums. "Well in that case, you have permission. You've got the Tomlinson stamp of approval. You're good."

Liam laughs and says, in his normal voice, "Thanks, Louis."

"Anytime, Muscles," Louis says easily.

Zayn tugs on the new shirt and steps out of the room, finding Niall out of his own, too, but he's back in his normal clothes. "So?" he asks, lifting his arms. "Get it, or no?"

It's just a simple black t-shirt with a cool dragon design on it, but Liam looks at him like he just stepped out in one of those ridiculously expensive suits Maxx is always forcing him into. "Definitely get it," he says.

Louis clucks his tongue and smirks at Liam. Zayn ducks back into the change room before Louis can say something that'll make them all uncomfortable.

—

He should have known. He should have seen this coming. It was only a matter of time, and Louis issucha f*cking gossip.

He remembers the time when he brought all the boys to visit his family. It was only about two years ago, and he'd been really nervous, for several reasons. He wanted his family to like his friends, but he also needed his friends to like his family. Of course, they all had. Everyone loves Josh naturally, and Niall kept complimenting his mum's cooking, winning over her heart immediately. His sisters loved Harry instantly, and Louis — Louis and his mother are actually friends. Like, call each other once every couple days, talk about their days and their relationships and their jobs type of friends. Like two long distant girlfriends who moved away from each other after University or something. It's really freaking weird, the fact that sometimes his mum calls Louis to check up on him, and sometimes Louis knows things about their lives before Zayn does.

Zayn has told them countless times that they aren't allowed to be friends. And in times like this, he really wishes he'd of put his foot down a little harder.

He stares down at his phone and considers not answering. Liam's napping beside him, almost completely naked. He doesn't sleep in clothes, Liam. This is something Zayn learned almost immediately. They don't fool around often (only twice after that first time, and never crossing that final line, though Zayn thinks about it a lot), but Liam still strips out of his clothes every night and climbs into bed in just his boxers. It might be one of Zayn's favourite things about him. If he had it his way, Liam would never be fully dressed.

He knows exactly what this call is about. He's been waiting for it, actually, and he's surprised that she waited so long. And while he normally looks forward to their occasional phone calls, even if they always end in tears, this time he isn't. But he can't just ignore her, not without feeling guilty about it until he caves and calls her back, so he presses 'talk' and lifts his phone to his ear. "Hey, mum."

"Zayn," she says happily. "You're not busy, are you?"

Zayn looks at Liam's sleeping figure, and Liam lets out a quiet snore before tucking his hand under his chin. He looks lovely like that, curled up on himself, eyelashes fanning over his cheeks. "Nah, I'm not busy."

"You're with him, aren't you?" she guesses.

Maybe it's because he's the only boy, but Zayn's always had a closer relationship with his mum than his sisters do, or than he has with his father. And, except for Harry, she knows him better than anyone in the world. So is doesn't really surprise him that she caught on that easily, but he still makes an embarrassed sound. "Mum."

"Tell him I said hello," she says.

Zayn winces. "He's, um, sleeping, actually."

It's silent for a beat. "Good. Tell me all about him before he wakes up."

Zayn rolls his eyes. There's a reason her and Louis get along. They're both really similar, in the weirdest ways. "I'm sure Lou already told you everything."

"He didn't, actually. He was surprisingly vague. He just said that his name is Liam, and he's your bodyguard, and you're very fond of him."

Zayn absently brushes a hand over Liam's, the one that's hanging over his back, arm bent at an odd angle because he'd fallen asleep while trying to hold Zayn's hand. "I am," he admits.

"Aw," his mother coos. "When do I get to meet him?" A pause. "And when do I get to see you again? I miss you."

"I miss you, too," he says, and his voice is getting thick already. "Hopefully soon. We have a two week break coming up, before we fly to the states. I was planning on coming home for a few days."

"And you're bringing the boyfriend, right?"

Zayn worries his bottom lip between his teeth. He'd like to, he would. And he's not exactly sure if he could handle being away from Liam for that long, at this point. He's gotten so used to Liam being a constant in his life that it'd feel weird to not have him right there at all times, within arms reach whenever Zayn needs him.

"Might be a bit too soon for that, don't you think?" he says anyways, because it is. He's never brought someone home to meet his parents. He's never been in a serious enough relationship before, or been comfortable with a person enough to bring them into that part of his life.

"Nonsense," his mother says instantly. "You've known him for months now, haven't you? If you aren't serious about him yet, you're not going to be. And I have a feeling you already are. So bring him home. I'm sure the girls would love to tease you about this, and I'd like to get to know the young man who's sworn to keep my boy safe."

"I—" his talking must have woken him, because Liam stirs, making a quiet sound as he rolls over. He blinks slowly up at Zayn, a smile sliding onto his lips, and Zayn forgets he's on the phone for a minute. "Hey, babe."

"Who're you talkin' to?" Liam mumbles sleepily. He rubs at his eyes and frowns, lips pouting a bit.

"Oh, he's awake?" his mother asks. "Ask him! No, wait, tell him. He's not allowed to refuse. Tell him that."

Zayn laughs, a blush crawling into his cheeks. He clears his throat and says into the phone, "I'll talk to him about it later."

"Oh, fine," his mother huffs. "I get it. You don't want us scaring him off."

Liam gives him a questioning look, but Zayn pretends he doesn't see it. "Anyways, how are you? How're the girls? How's dad?"

"Your father," she says, and he can hear her moving around all of a sudden, like she's in the kitchen, or something, "is being insufferable. For some reason he seems to think that I'm a fire hazard, and he's banned me from the kitchen for the time being."

"You're in the kitchen anyways, aren't you?"

"I am. It wasonepie. And it only partially caught on fire. Honestly, I don't see what the fuss is about. No one got hurt too badly, and the kitchen is still in one piece."

"You're sh*t at baking, mum," Zayn teases. "Thought you'd of realized that by now."

"Language, Zayn," she says without heat. "And that's no way to talk to the woman who birthed you. I brought you into this world, and —"

"You can take me out of it," Zayn finishes, with a fond roll of his eyes. "Heard that one before."

"Yes, well. I'm actually trying to—"

"I told you I'd make dinner tonight." His dad's voice is tiny on the other side of the phone, so different from the loud voice he's used to in real life. "Didn't I?"

His mother giggles likes a school girl. "I might have forgotten. Possibly."

"Like you forgot the pie in the oven," his father teases. "Every time with you, woman."

His parents have always been like this, ridiculously, hopelessly in love with each other. Of course they still fight, and there was a time when he was about thirteen when he honestly thought they were going to get a divorce. He remembers sitting awake at night, listening to them argue, day after day. But they'd worked through it, like they always do, and he can't imagine ever being lucky enough to get something like that. Being with someone who genuinely loves him and isn't going to walk away whenever they encounter a rough patch. He doesn't want some perfect romance where they never fight and things are always peachy. He wants someone who thinks it's still worth it even when they fight.

"Ew," he hears someone else say, and he smiles to himself as Safaa adds, "Weeatin here. That's so gross."

"What's gross?" his dad asks. And then he hears the loud, wet sound of a kiss, and he makes a grossed-out face that no doubt matches the one his sister is making back in their kitchen. "That?"

"I'm sorry, Zayn," his mother says, remembering that he's there. "I didn't realize everyone was home. Your sister's supposed to be at a friend's house."

"Emily isnotmy friend anymore," Safaa says dramatically. "We don't like her. She's evil."

"It's okay," Zayn says, hating how choke he sounds. It's just — it's hard not to miss them when he realizes that everything is going on back there like he never left. Life continues on, exactly the same, only he's notthere. "I'll talk to you after."

"And ask Liam! Don't forget! Love you, miss you, your father's giving me trouble for calling you on the cellphone again because of long distance charges, so I'm gonna hang up. Call you soon. Bye!"

"Bye," Zayn mumbles, but she's already gone, the call ended. He drops his phone onto the bed and sighs, just as Liam props himself up on his elbows. Zayn wipes at his eyes furiously, hating that they're wet even though nothing that was said during that conversation could be considered sad or sappy. It was just sonormal, though, and his life is so not. Not that he minds that, because he doesn't. He wouldn't trade his life for anything, but sometimes he misses normal.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Liam asks, stroking the back of his hand with his thumb.

Zayn shakes his head. "Nothing to talk about, really."

"Okay," Liam says easily. "Just let me know if you change your mind."

Zayn slides down the bed a bit, so his head is resting on the pillows. Liam scoots closer, throwing a leg over his thighs. "I have a question for you, though?"

Liam's busy tracing one of Zayn's tattoos, so he doesn't look up. "Mm?"

"It's sort of a big deal," Zayn admits. "And feel free to say no, because I know it's sort of soon, and it's short notice, and I know we might not be at that stage in our relationship yet, but —"

"I'd love to," Liam says instantly. He grins up at Zayn. "You're asking me to come home with you, right? Meet your family."

"How'd you know?"

Liam laughs. "It wasn't that hard to put the pieces together. You were talking to your mum, you said you'd ask me later, and you had that nervous shake in your voice that you sometimes get, just before you're about to say something important, or do something that scares you, so it wasn't hard to figure out."

"Nervous shake?" Zayn asks. "I don't have a nervous shake."

"Yeah, you do," Liam teases. "And your hands shake as much as your voice, sometimes. You're like an open book."

Zayn is pretty sure he isn't, actually, but maybe he is to Liam. "A good one, I hope."

"Best seller," Liam says swiftly.

Zayn kisses his forehead and cards his hands through Liam's hair. "So you're really up for coming, then?"

"It's my job to follow you everywhere, isn't it?" Liam replies. "And it's a tiresome one, but someone has to do it."

f*ck, that reminds him. "Speaking of tiresome things we don't want to do," he groans. "I have that thing in two days, with—"

"Photo shoot," Liam supplies. He knows Zayn's schedule better than Zayn, most of the time. "It won't be that bad."

Zayn raises his eyebrows. "You've never been to one," he points out. "Itisthat bad. For one, I'll be half naked most the time, squeezing into, like, thirty different outfits. Not to mention the fact that they apparently want to do a shot with a few other models, so I'm going to have to pose with a bunch of people I hardly know that will have to, like, touch me. And the refreshments they have at these kinds of things are always flavoured water and pieces of cucumber and sh*t. And they'll pile on the make-up, and it'll probably be really hot so it'll, like, melt off my skin by the time we're done, and — I just hate photo shoots. They're the worst part of the job, hands down my least favourite."

"Really?" Liam honestly looks shocked. "I always figured that if you didn't get into singing, you would have been a model or something."

Zayn gives him a blank look. "A model?" he deadpans. "Me?"

"You've got the face for it, babe," Liam says with a grin. He traces Zayn's cheekbones, lips, eyebrows, over the tiny scar that's been there since that night that feels like it was forever ago. "Look at your facial structure. You're like a work of art. If I was any good at taking pictures, you're the only thing I'd ever want to photograph."

Liam does this all the time. He says the cheesiest things completely seriously, without an ounce of embarrassment. It's incredibly endearing. "You should come with me," Zayn says. And now that he has, he can't believe he didn't think of it sooner. "Seriously, you should. I've brought Louis with me to one before. They let him just stand around and chat with the models and stuff. And it made my life a lot easier because then I had someone to talk to between takes."

"Really? You want me to?"

"Yeah," Zayn says enthusiastically. "I do. Definitely. It's a brilliant idea. And if anyone asks why you're there, I'll just say I felt more comfortable with a member of my security accompanying me, but I doubt they'll even ask."

Liam still looks hesitant. "Are you sure you want me to? I'm going to stick out like a sore thumb at a photo shoot. Half of my wardrobe is plain black t-shirts. The other half is jeans that I've owned since I was nineteen."

Zayn pushes Liam's leg off him and easily clambers on top of him. This might just be his favourite place in the entire world, on top of Liam. Looking down into his brown eyes, wrinkled at the side from a smile, or wide and awed when Zayn's grinding down against him, or just warm and fond, like they are now. He rubs his hands down Liam's chest, over the indents of his ribs, feeling the taut stretch of skin over muscle and bones, sliding them back up to brush his fingertips just lightly over Liam's nipples.

"I want you to come everywhere with me," Zayn admits.

He really does, is the thing. Wants Liam with him all the time, to the point where it's almost concerning. It's started to bug him, the times when he turns around and Liam isn't right there. When he's back stage, getting ready for his show, and Liam's too busy watching the show itself to be there. Or when he's just hanging out with the lads, and Liam's somewhere with the rest of the security crew, doing whatever it is they do, not with Zayn because they think that it's best if people don't realize that they're spending literally every waking minute together, because they might realize what's really going on. His hands literally itch to find Liam's sometimes, and his gut twists especially when he's in a crowd and Liam isn't there. When he's doing a meet and greet and the rest of his security is around, but Liam's nowhere to be found because they said he wasn't needed. He's gotten too dependent on Liam beingright therethat it's starting to get to him when he'snot.

Liam laughs at him, hands bunching up the back of Zayn's shirt. "Everywhere, huh? I think people might start to get suspicious if I follow you every time you need to go to the bathroom."

"Okay, fair enough," Zayn chuckles. "The rest of the time, though."

Liam makes a considering face, head tilting to the side, eyebrows raised. "I don't know," he says slowly. "I might just get sick of you."

"Don't," Zayn says lowly, his fingers curl against Liam's skin, and he knows it's a joke, he does, but it's — He really isn't sure if he could handle that, honestly. Obviously he'd have to, but still. It's not something he even wants toconsider, and that's sort of terrifying in itself. It shouldn't be this easy to fall for someone, but he can't seem to stop himself. "Don't get sick of me."

"I'm pretty sure it's not possible," Liam assures him. "You'll be the one getting sick of me, and we both know it. I'm not very exciting. I mean, the most exciting thing I've ever done is work for you, and eventually you're going to realize that I'm not enough. And that's fine, I'm prepared for that day to come, so you don't have to worry about, like, breaking my heart, because I'm really just happy that we got this, at least temporarily, and—"

Zayn cuts him off with a kiss. He pushes his lips firmly against Liam's, like he can clear away any and all doubt with nothing but a sigh against Liam's lips. But he can't, so he pulls back and says fiercely, "Didn't I tell you not to say things like that?"

"If you kiss me like that every time that I do, I'm not going to be able to stop," Liam teases. But he's changing the subject, Zayn can tell. Brushing this whole thing off because he honestly believes that he's the only lucky one here. That Zayn would have no reason to feel blessed that Liam wants him. Which is such bullsh*t that it makes Zayn dizzy.

He easily slips off Liam's body and climbs off the bed, heading for the cupboard. "Hey, where are you going?" Liam whines. "I was comfortable."

Zayn shoots him a look as he pulls out the shoebox. Liam's gaze drops to it, and then he nods, like he understands, but he really doesn't. But he stays silent as Zayn perches on the bed, one leg tucked beneath him, and writes.

It's so much easier to write something down than to say it out loud. To bear your heart on a page than to risk stumbling over words with a shaking voice. It's easier to get it right when you can edit, reword, erase and fix it until it's right than it is to blurt something out.

Words, Zayn's always thought, are easy. Saying them out loud to the people who matter to you is not.

Liam falls back asleep at one point, hand reaching towards Zayn, arm fully outstretched. His chest rises and falls evenly, and his lips part every-so-slightly. His eyes twitch under his eyelids, eyelashes fluttering occasionally, and his fingers curl and uncurl, like he's having an unpleasant dream. Zayn checks the time on his phone, realizes it's getting pretty late, and he puts his things away before shutting off the light and crawling into that spot next to Liam, where his body curves just right so they're tucked together, touching in every place Zayn can manage.

—

Zayn wakes up in the middle of the night, panting and clutching at the blankets. It's not the first time this has happened, but it's the first time in a while. That he'd closed his eyes and drifted back to that night that he doesn't even consciously think about anymore, all that often at least. It's definitely the first time he's done it since he's been sleeping with Liam.

It's not even accurate, the dream he had. It's the same guys from that night, sure, but it's not the same script. It's completely different. He's in the club still, a little drunk, a little high from a joint his friend had passed him before they left. He was dancing with someone before, some faceless girl with a great body whose name he never got, or if he did he can't remember. And just like that night, he has to go to the bathroom. So he drifts easily through the crowd, giggly and justup, so freaking happy. It's a good night. A great night. One of the best, just relaxing, hanging out with friends, feeling completely normal for once.

And then he's at the bathroom, reaching to push open the door, and he notices a guy standing beside it. One who smiles at him, head co*cked to the side. "Don't I know you?" he says, and Zayn shakes his head, no. "Are you sure? Because you look pretty familiar."

"Justin Bieber," someone says from behind him. "Innit?"

"I think you're confused, mate," Zayn says, going to step into the bathroom. The door opens easily, but it doesn't close behind him. He waits to hear it click shut, but it doesn't, so he turns around. And there's four of them now, standing just behind him. "Can I help you?"

"Can I help you?" one of the guys mocks. "I don't know, Zayn. It is Zayn, right? Malik. The one from the videos and the radio. The famous one."

"That's not me," Zayn lies, because this seems like the kind of situation where lying is the best option. "Sorry."

"Bullsh*t," the guy nearest him says, calling him out. He shoves at Zayn's shoulders and Zayn stumbles backwards, stunned. "f*cking lying little rich bitch, aren't you?"

"Don't think this is the type of place for people like you," one of them says. Zayn isn't sure by this point. The music is too loud, the lights in the bathroom are blinding, and he's too disoriented to tell them apart. "Think he's lost, guys."

Someone else pushes him again. "Think we should help him find his way home?" And then he's stumbling, hitting the ground. He tries to cover his head, and the kick gets him in the stomach. So does the next one, and the third one connects with his ribs. His eyebrow's split, he can feel the blood oozing from it from where he'd hit his head. And he can't fight back because he's too drunk, too stunned, too out numbered. All he can do is lay there and wait for it to be over, if it ever ends. It feels like it never will.

And then he woke up.

He wipes at his forehead, and his hand comes away slick with sweat. Without thinking, he traces the scar above his eyebrow. He's still breathing heavy, and he notices the way his hands are shaking.

He's pathetic, he knows it. It shouldn't still be bothering him. That happenedmonthsago, and there hasn't been an incident like that since. Never will be, most likely. He should get over it. It wasn't that big of a deal. It definitely shouldn't be waking him up in the middle of the night the way it is.

Someone makes a sound beside him and Zayn startles before he realizes it's Liam. It's too dark on the bus for him to see anything, really, but he feels Liam sit up, knows he's awake.

"What's wrong?" he asks. "I can feel you trembling."

Zayn takes a breath and forces himself to relax. Focuses on stilling his hands and his body. He takes another breath, holds it, and releases it a beat later. "I'm fine, it's nothing. Bad dream."

Liam settles back down beside him, and Zayn makes himself do the same, acting like he's completely fine because he is. He's overreacting, that's all. Being ridiculous. He wishes Louis were here because Louis would probably say it for him.

"Do you want to tell me about it?" Liam asks a little while later.

He thought Liam had fallen back asleep, but apparently he's just as awake as Zayn, who's been staring up at the ceiling for the last few minutes, trying to build up enough confidence to close his eyes and fall back asleep, but it's hard when he knows that he could get sucked into that loop again, play that scene out in his mind over and over again. No matter how many times it changes, no matter how many different variations there is, it always end the same. Him, laying on the ground, bleeding, completely hopeless. He hates it.

And he doesn't want to talk about it, doesn't want to admit out loud how much of a bitch he's being about this. If it were anyone else, he would have brushed the question off, said no and pretended to be asleep again. But it's Liam, and it's Liam's arm around his waist, and Zayn finds himself nodding, even if he can't see it.

"You know why you work for me, right?" he starts.

Liam chuckles. "Because you're prone to getting mobbed by teenage girls?"

"No. My friends and apparently everyone else was worried about me after, um… it was this thing, it wasn't really in any of the tabloids because we were pretty good on shutting everyone up about it. But I, uh— There was this scene at this club. And I got jumped by a group of guys. Fractured two ribs, nearly got a concussion, was in the hospital for two days. It wasn't that bad, but everyone thought it was. So they kind of forced me into hiring you because they thought that I needed tighter security. Someone to make sure that it didn't happen again."

It gets silent, for a while. Zayn wonders if maybe Liam's thinking the same thing as him, that he's making a big deal out of nothing. If Liam thinks he should suck it the f*ck up, because people get into fights all the time and he shouldn't be so f*cking bothered by it.

"That explains a lot," Liam finally says. He feels Liam searching around the bed until he finds Zayn's hand, and he squeezes it tightly. "Those two times in the club, where you looked like you were having a panic attack when I found you in the crowd. I've always sort of wondered about that, but I didn't think it was my place to ask."

Zayn winces. "I don't think about it, because I know it's not a big deal. But sometimes when it's — when the lights are flashing and everyone's pressing in around me it just freaks me out. Brings me back to it, and I start panicking, like it's happening all over again." His breathing sounds ragged, even to his own ears. "I know I'm being stupid, but I can't help it."

"You're not stupid," Liam says firmly. "You're not." He brings Zayn's hand up to his lips. "Is that what your dream was about, then? That night."

Zayn nods, remembers Liam can't see it, and adds, "Yeah. Maybe. I don't know. It's a little different but, yeah, I guess. Same concept. Same ending."

Liam releases his hand. Zayn makes an upset noise, trying to find it again in the dark, but Liam's straddling him before he can. He's a heavy weight, settling just on his hips, solid and warm. He's got both his hands splayed beside Zayn's head, and he leans down, teasingly close to Zayn's lips, close enough that Zayn can feel his breath on his skin.

"I will never," Liam says passionately, "ever let anyone hurt you. Ever. Do you understand me? You don't ever have to worry about that. As long as I'm near you, you'll be safe. Whatever it takes. Always."

Zayn feels choked up all of a sudden, and it has nothing to do with the heavy body sitting on top of his own. "Liam…"

"I mean it," Liam says. "And not just because it's my job. I can't stand even the thought of anyone — anyone ever hurting you. I can't. I couldn't ever let that happen."

And just like that, Zayn feels better. Not completely, not one hundred percent, but better. "I'll hold you to that," he says.

"You better. I mean it." He finally,finallykisses Zayn. "Now bed. You've got that photo shoot in the morning. Don't want bags under your eyes, do you?"

Zayn chuckles as Liam rolls off him. "Of course not. That would be a travesty."

Liam curls up against him this time, his head pillowed on Zayn's chest, his arm and legs wrapped possessively around Zayn's body. Zayn knows he means it, knows without any doubt that Liam would protect him from anything, even if he also knows that it's irrational, that he's rarely in any danger. It's still a comforting thought.

—

"A little closer, Zayn, please," the photographer instructs. "Just — act like you're actually attracted to her, even just a little."

Zayn bites down on his tongue to hold back the bitterno, f*ck offthat threatens to come out of his mouth. He's going to have words with Eleanor as soon is this is done. Or whoever it was that okayed this, because this isnotf*cking okay.

He's inleather. f*cking. Pants.Leather. Full on f*ckingleather. Which sounded really cool at first, it did, but fun fact? Leather doesn't breathe. If you sweat in leather, it's like being wrapped in plastic and forced to sit in your own nasty sweat. It's horrible. And they're tight. Really, really tight. He can see the outline of his dick every time he looks down.

It's notjustthat, though. He doesn't have a shirt on and they'd covered up his tattoos. Every single one of them because they apparently weren't appropriate for what the photographer was going for. Which is, in essence, Zayn being continuously grouped by a group of admittedly attractive people. They're all on their knees, mostly, grabbing at his thighs and his chest like a bunch of rabid animals fighting for the last scrap of meat on a carcass.

The girl in question, who he's supposed to look interest in (the only one out of the group that he's supposed to pay attention to, the lucky one who managed to get his attention or whatever it is that the photographer said earlier) blinks down at him. In her heels she stands inches taller than him, and she's got long black hair that falls to her waist. She's beautiful, she is, with her dark skin and her ruby lips and her lovely golden brown eyes, but Zayn is just not interested in any way. How can he be, with Liam standing just off to the side, arms crossed over his chest in his signature pose as he leans against the wall and watches with narrowed eyes?

He looks annoyed, too, which is surprising. Liam rarely gets irritated, and they've only been here an hour but he looks about ready to drag Zayn off the set and physically remove him from the building. Zayn wishes he would. Would happily allow Liam to take him away from this.

"Or would you rather we trade Vanessa with one of the male models?" the photographer asks. "Would that make you more comfortable?"

"No."

He knows hethoughtthat word, but he definitely isn't the one who said it. Everyone turns, and the photographer sounds more than a little annoyed when she asks, "Who is that? Does he work for us?" while pointing at Liam.

Liam's blushing. Zayn can see it even from here, and he's leaning heavily against the wall like he wishes it could suck him up and make him disappear. "Sorry," Liam says quickly. "I—"

"He's with me," Zayn says loudly.

The photographer looks at him, a sigh passing her lips, like she thinks Zayn is extremely difficult. "Of course. Boyfriend, I'm assuming?"

"Bodyguard," Zayn says without missing a beat.

"Would you ratherhimbe up there with you? Is that something you'd like for us to arrange? Can we get the bodyguard in make-up, please!"

Zayn goes to say no, goes to protest as loudly as he can. Eleanor would kill him. His whole management team, most likely, would kill him. This can't happen, definitely not, but what comes out of his mouth is "Are you going to put him in leather pants, too?"

For the first time this entire photo shoot, the photographer smiles at him. "I like the way you think."

The photographer calls break, and they all shuffle off the set. Someone hands Zayn a shirt, and he tugs it on before falling into one of the chair provided for him. Immediately someone comes over and starts fussing with his hair, and someone else starts wiping under his eyes before applying eyeliner, and Zayn just sits there, letting them paint him and use him like a dress-up doll.

He can hear Liam in the distance, saying something hurried but he's too far away for Zayn to pick up the words. He can't crane his neck to try and see, either, but a moment later Liam falls into the chair next to him with a dazed look on his face, and someone starts combing back his hair. He turns, giving Zayn a panicked look, but Zayn only shrugs in response.

"Just go with it," he offers. "Pretend it's just another part of your job."

"Pout for me, darling," one of the make-up artists says to Liam. "You've got delicious lips, anyone ever tell you that?"

Under normal circ*mstances, Zayn might get jealous over that. Under current circ*mstances, Zayn can't do anything but laugh at the look on Liam's face. The make-up artist applies gloss to Liam's lips, nothing in a heavy shade, just a natural colour that makes Liam's lips look shiny and like he'd just been kissed roughly. And he is, in fact, put in leather pants.

None of this even phases Zayn. He's gotten so used to how crazy his life is that taking his bodyguard and putting him in place of one of the models is actually pretty normal, compared to some of the other stuff. Liam, on the other hand, looks dazed and confused through the entire thing. And the photographer looks like Christmas came early when Liam strips off his shirt.

"Where did youhirehim?" she hisses at Zayn before they get back on set. "I want one."

Zayn shrugs for what feels like the hundredth time in the last fifteen minutes. "Do you want me back on set, or…?"

"Yes, yes." She waves him off.

It takes them about five minutes to get in the right position. Again, Zayn's got about four or five people crouching at his feet and reaching up to touch him, and he's got Liam just beside them, standing there looking uncomfortable.

"Henry, is it?" the photographer calls. No one answers. "Pretty bodyguard with the abs."

"Liam," Liam corrects. "It's— my name is Liam."

"Right," the photographer says, like she couldn't give any less of a sh*t. "Luke, we need you to turn a bit — careful to keep those abs facing me, though— so you're looking away from Zayn. And Zayn, we want you to be reaching for Luke. All these admirers at your feet, dying for your attention, and the only person you want in the entire world is the only person who doesn't want you back. He's unobtainable. Immune to your allure. You need him desperately but you can't have him. Okay?"

Zayn's snorts and Liam actually laughs before covering his mouth, but the irony of the situation isn't lost on him. Because Liam is the only person in the world he wants, and he has to pretend like he doesn't. He could have had his pick of nearly anyone else, and instead he fell for someone who he can't really be with, not in the way he wants.

"Yes!" the photographer cries, and Zayn would snort again if he didn't think it would screw up the shot. "That'swhat we're looking for! The desire, the need. The desperation on your face isperfect."

Lights flash, pictures are taken, but Liam breaks the shot to look over his shoulder, like he has to see the look on Zayn's face. Zayn waits for the photographer to shout at him, but she just takes more pictures and the other models move their hands a bit, sliding them over his body like he's an object and not a person because, in that moment, that's what he's supposed to be to them, really.

"Can we get everyone else out of the shot?" the photographer asks. "I want one with just the two of them. The chemistry here isamazing. You did say he wasn't your boyfriend, right?"

"Right," Zayn says quickly. "He—"

"Should be," the photographer finishes for him. "The sparks are justflying. Now, can we have the two of you embracing? We've got the unattainable love, now we want the shot where you get him, Zayn. Where Luke—"

"Liam," he corrects.

"Right, Luke." Zayn rolls his eyes at Liam. "Where Luke is finally yours, and you're about to get the only thing you've wanted for so long. The man who can have everything, who only wanted one person. And he finally has him. Okay? Not just love. We don't want vapid affection. We wantheat.Fire. We almost want to make the viewer feel like they're intruding on something important. Something more than they could ever even wish to have."

Liam awkwardly steps up to him, a barely suppressed laugh on his lips. "Is she serious?" he whispers. "Like, for real?"

Zayn shrugs. "One time they had me almost completely naked with paint all over my body and made me straddle a pool noodle. This is pretty tame."

"Pool noodle?"

Zayn nods as he curls a hand around Liam's back. He splays it wide there, holding him steady, and it's like they forget where they are for a moment. Liam's body curves towards his, like two puzzle pieces melding together. Zayn's leg goes between both of his, and Liam's arm goes just under Zayn's, curling up so his hand is gripping Zayn's shoulder from behind.

The tight leather of his own pants does little to cover him, and Liam's in the same predicament. He's not hard, not at all, but Zayn can feel the length of him anyways, pushing against the material. His heart starts racing, and he can't help the way he tries to shuffle himself a little closer, tangle his body with Liam's and touch him as much as he can. Liam's head tilts just to the left, and Zayn leans in, like he's trying to steal Liam's breath from his barely parted lips.

Liam's eyes are wide and almost wonderstruck, darting back and forth between both of Zayn's, only occasionally lowering to Zayn's lips. And he's so f*cking beautiful that Zayn can't think. The stubble that covers his incredible jaw, those plump lips that taste sweet almost every time Zayn gets a chance to lick at them. Those thick eyebrows that wouldn't work right on anyone else, but offset the gentle look in Liam's eyes, making him look both rugged and vulnerable, at the same time. And his skin is warm against Zayn's everywhere they touch, his hand like a scalding hot iron on his shoulder, making him distinctly aware of where each fingertip presses into his skin. All he can hear, feel, see is Liam. Invading all his senses in the best way.

Someone coughs loudly and they both jump. The whole crew is just — they're all gaping at them, almost, except the photographer. "That isit. That's a wrap. I've got everything I need here. f*ck. Someone get me a drink and those two a cold shower, stat."

Liam looks like he's refraining from running as he quickly walks off set, probably in search of his jeans. Zayn is desperate to get out of his leather pants, too, but first he heads over to the area behind where the photographer had been standing. There's a bunch of computers set up, and she's leaning over, pointing at a screen with one hand while the other clutches a coffee mug. "That's the one, it's perfect."

"Can I see them?" Zayn hesitantly asks.

The photographer looks up at him, a smirk sliding onto her lips. "You can do whatever you want, sweetie. That's the whole point, isn't it?"

Zayn has no idea what that means, but he isn't about to ask, either. "How many did you take?" he asks as he moves around to the other side of the station so he can see the screen.

The man sitting at the desk clicks something, and then they're scrolling through awkward shot after awkward shot of Zayn squinting at the pretty girl with the long black hair. He looks so odd with the make-up and no tattoos that he almost doesn't recognize himself. It's like he's a different person. Same general features, maybe, but they look worlds different. Like a doppelganger, but definitely nothim.

"None of those are usable," the photographer says, clucking her tongue. "Goodness, he looks constipated, doesn't he?" She looks up sharply, like she's just remembered that Zayn is standing right there. "Sorry, love. You're gorgeous but you can't act to save your life."

Zayn shrugs. He doesn't care because he's too busy watching as the new round of pictures come up. The ones with Liam. And it's a bad idea, he thinks, for Liam to be in the shot. Not just because he's going to have his ass handed to him on a silver platter for this, but because the photo shoot was supposed to be about Zayn. There's no way anyone's going to be looking at him with Liam right there.

Really, Zayn can't see much of a difference, but the photographer coos at the pictures, like they're perfect. They look just as awkward to Zayn as the others ones, only at least this time he can admire Liam's abs as they scroll through them. And then the scene changes again, and it's him and Liam wrapped up in each other. Literally, there's no other way to describe it. It's like they're one being, melding together seamlessly. He can barely see Liam's face, since he's turned with his back towards the camera and Zayn's face is definitely the center of the picture, but it doesn't matter. Zayn-on-screen isn't looking at the camera. He's looking at Liam like he holds the world in the palm of his hand and he's afraid that Liam's going to burn the whole thing to ground, himself included.

"That one," Zayn says. "That's the best one."

"Right you are," the photographer agrees. "That's the shot. Two hours and it took about five minutes once he got up there with you." She gives Zayn a coy smile. "Don't worry, I won't tell."

Zayn tenses. "Tell what?"

She leans in, the smell of her flowery, citrus perfume almost suffocating him. "I wanted you to look at him like you'd finally gotten what you wanted most in the world. Instead you looked at him like he'd already given it to you a million times over and you still needed more. And like I said, you're a terrible actor, but that shot was believable." She pulls back and laughs. "He's my bodyguard. Oh, you popstars crack me up. Someone get me a biscotti!"

She saunters away, laughing as she goes. Zayn chews his lip and heads off to find his clothes. By the time he's wiped the make-up from his cheeks and pulled his shirt on, Liam's already back in his own clothes, his hair resembling it's normal style once again, though it's still heavily weighed down by product.

"Can we go?" Liam asks.

Zayn nods. "Just give me two minutes, I need to make a phone call."

Liam nods and rocks back on his heels. "I'll just wait by the door."

When he's gone, Zayn pulls out his phone and dials a familiar number. Eleanor picks up on the second ring. "Zayn! How's the photo shoot going? You're not being difficult, are you?"

"No," Zayn says. "We're done, actually."

"Oh." He hears her typing. "Would you like me to send the car to get you, then?"

"Sure. But that's not why I was calling."

"Then what is it?"

"Is there anyway that, um, you could get me the unused shots from the shoot? I'm sure they'll have them copyrighted or whatever, but I won't post them anywhere. I'd just like them for myself."

Eleanor hums. "I'll see if that can be arranged. I'm sure they won't have a problem with it."

Zayn feels almost giddy the whole ride back to the hotel. He's not sure what it is, but he just feelsgood. Today had started off horrible, that photo shoot being everything he'd dreaded, but it hadn't been that bad, in the end. But all it did do is once again enforce the fact that Liam makes everything in his life that much better. He makes the unbearable things bearable.

Where Zayn is all suppressed happiness, Liam still looks like he can't quite figure out what happened there. "Are they actually going to use those shots?" he asks.

Zayn shrugs. "Probably. You might have to sign a few documents, though, to allow them to. I'm not exactly sure what the protocol with this type of thing is."

Liam makes a face. "I don't see why. I'm sure you looked much better with that model than you did with me."

Zayn squeezes his hand extremely tight, chastising him without words. "Why do you always have to put yourself down? I don't understand why you're always acting like you're beneath everyone else. You're not. You're better than any of them."

Liam blinks up at him, expression softening. "I think you might be a little biased."

"I'm not," Zayn denies. "I'm definitely not."

They get dropped of at the back entrance, which is a good thing because they'd driven past the front of the hotel, and there's already a group of girls waiting out front with signs and the works. They'd only gotten to the hotel about an hour before the photo shoot, just enough time for Zayn to shower and make himself presentable, and he has no idea how they figured out where he was staying so quickly.

It isn't until they make it up to their room (his room, technically, but there's no doubt in his mind that Liam will be sleeping in his bed, even if he's still supposed to be with the rest of the security team) that he thinks of it. He's visited Liam's twitter page more than once since that first time, and Liam uses it quite frequently, actually. But he's still using that same old picture that only sort of looks like him, and Zayn's wondered for a while why he doesn't get a new one.

"Can we do anther photo shoot?" Zayn asks as he carefully locks the door. He turns, finding Liam sprawled out on the bed already.

"Wasn't one enough?" he asks with a yawn. "That was exhausting. And those leather pants were horrible."

"You don't have to wear leather pants," Zayn promises, tugging out his phone. "In fact, you don't have to wear anything."

Liam props himself up on the palms of his hands, eyes narrowing slightly. "Are you trying to get me to take naked pictures for you?" he asks, smirking.

"At least shirtless?" Zayn bargains. "And you need a new profile picture for twitter, babe. The last one's really dated."

"So?" Liam asks while tugging off his shirt. He tosses it to the ground and resumes laying there, lifted up by just his arms, which make the muscles in his biceps flex gloriously.

Zayn lifts his phone, camera already open. "Can I?"

Liam squirms a little, doing that full body blush that Zayn loves. "If you really want to," he says. "I just — don't see why you would, but sure."

"Why I'd want to take pictures of you?" Zayn asks, moving a bit so he can get the right angle. He knows none of these are going on the internet. He'll take one later of just Liam's face for Twitter. These are just — for his personal collection, if Liam lets him keep them. He snaps a picture, and Liam makes a ridiculous face at him, all pouty lips and scrunched eyebrows, hollowed cheeks and head tilted to the side. Zayn snorts a laugh and takes the picture.

"Yeah," Liam says. He shrugs. "Don't see why you would. You act like I'm something special to look at, but really—"

"Don't," Zayn says, cutting him off. "You're not allowed to put yourself down in my presence anymore. Okay? Or you're totally fired. I can do that. Fire you. Don't make me do it, Liam."

Liam rolls his eyes. "If I agree will you put that thing down and come kiss me?"

Zayn debates. He bites down on his lip, eyes trailing down Liam's body. "No, I'm not done taking pictures yet."

Liam groans. "Come on, I've been hard since you were all up against me in those leather pants." Zayn raises his eyebrows in surprise. "If you don't come over here I'll take care of the problem myself, Zayn. I swear."

Zayn lowers the phone and moves to the chair by the window. "Really."

Liam sits all the way up, legs dangling off the bed. His lips are parted in surprise, and he's shaking his head slowly, a look of disbelief in his eyes. "I was joking," he says. "But that turns you on, doesn't it?"

Zayn shifts in the chair, rubbing his sweaty palms on the thighs of his jeans. It does, actually. The thought of Liam touching himself, naked and writhing on the bed— he doesn't even want to picture it as he licks his dry lips, because his jeans are already getting a bit tight just at the thought. "Maybe," he admits.

Liam's eyes seem to darken as he stands up, hands reaching for the button on his jeans. He pops it open, pulls down the zipper, and then he's stepping out of them, in nothing but his boxers and his socks. He perches on the edge of the bed for a moment before the socks are gone, too, and he's crawling back up the bed. He lays like that, spread out on the covers, back propped up by pillows, and steadies Zayn with a calm look. "Now what?"

Zayn frowns. "W-what?" His brain isn't working. How could it be, when Liam's slowly tracing a finger up his own thigh, stopping just when it reaches the bottom of his tight black boxer-briefs.

"Do you want me to just—?" Liam waves a hand. "The way I normally would? Or do you want to tell me what to do?"

Liam is naturally on the shier, quieter side. And while he might not think much of himself (which Zayn vows to change, somehow, because it baffles him that his perspective of Liam and Liam's perspective of himself are so vastly different), he's very comfortable with his body. With being naked. Zayn isn't, as much, but Liam never does more than blush a little when Zayn takes a moment to really appreciate his body the way it should be appreciated, and he never covers himself up in embarrassment the way Zayn sometimes does. So this should really be no surprise to him, the fact that Liam's comfortable doing this.

It still blows his mind anyways.

"Um, just… however you'd like," he says quickly, words stumbling out of his mouth. "I mean, if you want. You don't have to."

"That look on your face makes me want to," Liam says, voice already rougher than usual. He bites down on his bottom lip and slowly moves his hand up to grip himself through his boxers. He's already hard, very obviously straining against the material, and Zayn groans before he can stop himself.

He watches the way Liam teases himself, rubbing his palm over the bulge in his boxers, a soft sound escaping his lips. His own co*ck aches, and he wants to shuck his clothes, too, and wrap a hand around himself just to relieve the pressure. Instead, he says, "Take them off."

Liam makes a needy sound in the back of his throat and hurries to do just that, pushing the material down his legs and kicking the garment away from the bed. He settles himself back up against the pillow and makes a show of bending his legs and spreading them, co*ck curving up to lay flat against his stomach. So effortlessly sexy that it drives Zayn mad. He wants to touch him, desperately, but he also wants to watch, so he stays planted in his seat.

Liam wraps a hand around himself and slowly, eyes falling closed, pulls the foreskin down to reveal the head of his co*ck. Zayn bites down hard on his own lip but, unlike Liam, he isn't doing it to be sexy. He's doing it to hold back the moan that's bubbling up inside him. It's just — it's f*cking erotic, it really is, and he's pretty sure that no one in the entire world has ever turned him on the way Liam does. Made him feel so electrified, buzzed, f*cked off nothing but their skin and their words and the way they look at him.

He jerks himself slowly, head tilted up a bit, neck exposed. Zayn's gaze is trained on the way his hand slowly moves up and down his co*ck, grip tight, thumb sliding over the head every once in a while. He pushes his own palm down on his crotch and moves, trying to get more comfortable, but he can't. His skin feels too tight as Liam starts going faster, stomach tightening, breath held, body arching.

"Zayn," he moans, and that's all Zayn can take. He's like an elastic band; you can only stretch him so thinly before he snaps, and he's snapped.

He pulls off his shirt and kicks off his shoes as he moves towards the bed, and he only stops long enough to unbutton his jeans with fumbling, shaking hands. Liam slowly bats open his eyes, a grin spreading onto his lips. "Knew you couldn't last that long," he says, unwrapping his fingers from around himself.

Zayn shakes his head, crawling up the bed until he's between Liam's legs. "Don't stop."

Liam's eyes widen. "What? Don't you—"

He kisses he inside of one of Liam's thighs. "Don't stop," he repeats, firmer. "Keep going."

This time there's a moment of hesitation before Liam grabs himself, but he eventually does, eyes trained on Zayn. Zayn switches between watching his face and watching his hand as he continues to kiss Liam's thigh, sucking on the skin occasional. Liam groans when he does, eyes squeezing closed every once in a while, like he can't keep looking at Zayn between his legs without breaking.

Liam's hand stutters in its movements when Zayn nips at his sensitive skin and uses the hand not holding himself up to massage Liam's balls. He slides a finger a little lower, moving it down just enough before he's pressing it against Liam's hole. Not enough pressure to do anything, just lightly teasing him. Liam f*cking keens, hips pushing off the bed as he gasps.

Zayn blinks up at him, smirking without meaning to. He didn't expect that intense of a reaction, so he does it again, tracing the rim until Liam's grabbing at his shoulder, nails digging in painfully. "Get up here," he pleads. "Need you to. Just—Zayn. Please."

Who could say no to that? He pushes himself, moving so he's got Liam's legs on either side of his body and their foreheads are almost touching. Liam lifts up to kiss him, like he can't wait for Zayn to bend his head down and breach that final inch between them. His hands claw at Zayn's back, and the sharp pain of it has him hissing and grinding down against Liam.

"f*ck, babe," he groans against Liam's lips. "You're incredible."

"Stop talking," Liam urges, trying to move up against him, get that perfect friction between them again. "Just — comeon."

"Tell me," Zayn urges. "Tell me what you want."

Liam glares up at him, but he doesn't push Zayn back down against the bed and crawl on top of him, the way he easily could. Just like last time, he's giving himself over to Zayn again, even though he's still writhing underneath Zayn and trying to get what he wants. "I'd like to get off," he says. "Stop teasing."

Zayn chuckles and nips at his jaw. "Demanding," he scolds.

"Really f*cking horny," Liam corrects. He swears a lot more during than he does normally. "Don't make me beg for it again, Zayn."

Zayn grins against his skin and ignores his own need, distracting himself by peppering Liam's neck in kisses. There's a small, fading mark there, and he sucks at it, hard enough that when he pulls back the skin is glistening with spit and is a deep, almost purple red.

"Please," Liam snaps.

He grinds down against Liam again, co*cks sliding together just right, Liam's groan spurring him on. Liam ruts up against him, legs locking behind Zayn's back, and he'd planned to get a hand around the both of them, jerk them off until they were both satisfied, but he's already so close, pushed to the edge every time he remembers how Liam had looked spread out with a hand around himself, and he can feel Liam's precome smearing against his hip. He figures they could both come like this pretty easily, Liam grabbing at his back and desperately whining for it.

And he's right. Zayn's name is like a chant on Liam's lips just before he comes, and he knows there's going to be angry red marks on his back tomorrow from Liam's nails. He drops a kiss to Liam's lips, and Liam kisses him for a moment before he sucks in a sharp breath and holds it, tensing underneath him. His whole body shudders, and Zayn can feel his come between both of their stomachs. It doesn't bother him as he continues to grind down against Liam, the friction from both of their bodies almost enough,almost.

Someone knocks at the door. Zayn is ready to commit murder. He's so f*cking close, so desperate to find release, and someone's knocking at the f*cking door.

"Tell them to go away," Liam suggests.

But they knock again. He pushes himself up, and Liam takes advantage of that by wrapping his hand around Zayn's prick. "We're— sleeping," Zayn gets out. It's so obvious what they're doing, his voice breathless and soft.

Liam looks up at him, going faster, tightening his grip. "Come on, babe," he urges.

"I don't care!" Louis shouts from the other side of the door.

Zayn doesn't either. He grips Liam's thighs tightly, fingers curling, and Liam smiles up at him, all sunshine and warmth. Zayn takes a shuddering breath, thrusts up into Liam's hand, and Liam leans forward, lips wrapping around just the tip of his co*ck as he continues to pump him quickly. That's all it takes, that warmth and wetness and perfect suction to loose himself. He leaves crescent shaped marks from his nails on Liam's thighs as he squeezes, tension in his body unfurling all at once.

His come leaves Liam's lips slick and shiny, and he can't figure out how Liam can be so angelically sinful. He's grinning up at Zayn with those damn eyes of his, and he's both the loveliest, purest, most sinful thing Zayn's ever seen in his entire f*cking life, all at the same time.

He doorknob jiggles and Zayn remembers who he is again. He swears under his breath and kisses Liam gently before climbing off the bed. He tugs on his boxers so quickly he nearly rips them, and then he stomps towards the door and throws it open, trying to kill Louis with nothing but his glare. "What?"

Louis looks startled, but he instantly schools that and grins. "I was just…." he trails off, eyes on Zayn's stomach. Liam's come is drying there and, yeah, he needs to clean that up. "Oh mygod, is that—? Oh, f*cking gross, it is."

Zayn goes to slam the door in his face, but Louis' pushing past him, into the room. Liam makes a startled sound and covers himself, twisting the blankets over his body.

"I don't even care," Louis says. "I'll be grossed out about this later. Right now, I need your help."

Zayn pinches the bridge of his nose and forces himself to breathe andnotstrangle Louis. "Can't you see we're a little busy?"

Louis looks between Zayn and Liam, who's practically hiding under the blankets now. "You look like you just finished being busy. And this can't wait so, you know, chip chop. Get dressed, clean up, you've got five minutes."

Liam gives him a hopeless look. Zayn sighs deeply. He knows Louis, and he knows that unless he gets Liam to, like, physically remove him from the room, Louis isn't going anywhere. "Can you at least close your eyes while Liam gets out of bed?"

"You've got come drying on your stomach and you're trying to preserve his modesty? Really? That boat set sail, sunk, and they made an entire movie about it already. But fine." He closes his eyes, covers them with his hands, and turns. "Go on."

Liam hurries out of bed, blankets draped around his shoulders. He locates all his clothes, and Zayn's, and ducks into the bathroom. Zayn follows him.

"I'm just gonna — stay in here, I think," Liam says when they're dressed.

Zayn grimaces. "I'm really, really sorry," he says. "Really."

"It's fine," Liam assures him. "I just like to avoid uncomfortable situations. So I'm gonna, like I said, stay in here."

Zayn kisses his forehead. "Okay."

Louis is sitting in the chair when he gets out, probably to avoid sitting on the bed because he knows what they just did there. Zayn glares at him and folds his arms over his chest, borrowing Liam's signature move. "What could you possibly need that couldn't wait until later?"

Louis ducks his head. "It's about Harry."

If that was supposed to make Zaynlessangry, then he failed. "I'm so sick of you two," Zayn grinds out. Anger bubbles up inside him. Louis ruined what could have been a perfectly blissful moment with Liam, post-org*sm. All because of him and Harry's stupid f*cking avoidance of their feelings. "Can't you just—"

"That's why I'mhere," Louis snaps. "Okay? Because I'm f*cking stupidly in love with my best friend! And I can'tstand itanymore! It's driving mecrazy! And I need your f*cking help because he won't even talk to me!"

Zayn takes a step back, stunned. "Did you— Can you repeat that? I couldn't have heard that right."

Louis stands up, eyes narrowed. "You think it's funny? Because I'm going out of my f*cking mind about this whole thing, and I came here because I thought you wouldhelp, but never mind. Obviously you won't. Whatever. I'll leave you alone." He stomps towards the door, eyes never meeting Zayn's

Zayn grabs his arm. "Louis," he says softly. "Hey, I'm sorry, okay? I'll help. If you're serious, I'll help. However I can."

Louis looks up at him. He looks so young, in that moment, blue eyes watery, a stiff set to his jaw, defiant, almost like a child that's trying really hard not to cry. "No laughing at me, though," he says. "It's not funny. It's the farthest from funny that anything has ever been."

Zayn groans. "You can't tell me not to laugh at you and then say dramatic sh*t like that."

Louis punches him. In the shoulders, yes, but it still hurts. "f*cker," he says. "Insensitive bastard."

"Do you want my help or not?"

Louis nods. "Need it, actually." He moves around Zayn once again, goes to sit on the bed, but he seems to think the better of it. He settles for just standing in the middle of the room, arms hugging his middle. "I need to do something," he explains. "I need to — something big. Something ridiculously romantic. You know how he is, he likes that cheesy bullsh*t. I need to — to find a way to tell him that I'm sorry. That he's the most important thing to ever happen to me. And I don't know how. I don't know how to be serious about something like this because I've never been serious about anyone before, but I am about him. I'm serious about him."

Zayn raises his eyebrows, impressed. "You could always try just saying that to him."

"No." He shoots that down instantly. "That's not enough. We've f*cked this up too badly. It has to be better than that."

Liam comes out of the bathroom. He looks a little sheepish and embarrassed, but he says confidently, "I might have an idea."

Louis turns to him and blurts, "I'm thinking about your dick." He looks back at Zayn. "Yours, too. Both of your dicks, actually. Touching. It's all I can think about really. It keeps playing in my mind and I think I'm going to throw up. I wish I never knocked on your door. I don't think I'll ever get this out of my head and you're like my brother so it's—"

"Louis." He's pretty sure that Louis doesn't need their help. What he needs is therapy.

"Right, sorry. What's your idea, Liam?"

"I've watched every one of your shows," Liam states. "And you guys always do that thing where you answer questions from Twitter, right?"

"Right," Louis says slowly, nodding.

"So rig it," Liam says. "Make sure your tweet comes up. It doesn't have to be anything big. Just a simple 'I love you, Harry, go out with me', even. It's a big gesture, in front of thousands. And if he still hates you after that, you can just pretend that it was a prank that Zayn and the others pulled on you. No risk, possible reward."

"That's… actually brilliant," Louis says, sounding surprised. "Zayn, you've been keeping him from us. That's not fair. You should share."

Zayn crosses the room and puts an arm around Liam's waist, nudging his nose against Liam's neck. "No," he says. "Not sharing."

Louis makes a vomiting sound. "That's all I can stomach. I'm gonna go. Thank you, Liam. Zayn — you weren't really any help but you were there for me emotionally so thank you, too. And don't forget to use a condom! Safe sex is good sex!"

When he's gone, Liam laughs and puts a finger under his chin, tilting it up just a bit. Not that he needs to. They're almost the exact same height, lips nearly at the right level naturally. Once again, like they were meant for this. "I was looking forward to some naked cuddling before he came to the door," he says.

Zayn grins. "Then why do you still have your clothes on?"

—

Zayn keeps waiting for it. Every show, he stands just off stage with Liam, watching the band perform. And every show, Louis jogs off the stage with a sheepish shrug, and later he'll say "It just wasn't the right timing."

It's not the only thing Zayn's waiting for. He's also waiting for the chewing out from Eleanor, or someone else on his management team. He's waiting for Liam to come into his room any day and say, "So, I'm sort of fired for that photo shoot thing." Because he could get in that much trouble for it. Especially if someone looked close enough at the pictures, realized what was really between them. He knows he would never be forbidden to date Liam, knows that they'd let him see whoever he wants, but Liam would without a doubt lose his job. And would he be able to find another one? Would anyone want to hire him after the scandal where he dated his last employer? And even if they did, what if it was someone like Zayn? What if he was dragged across the country with someone else, barely having any time to see Zayn?

The phone call never comes, though. And Eleanor has the extra pictures from the photo shoot delivered to him without comment. That doesn't make his anxiety any easier. It makes it worse, actually, because whyaren'tthey calling and at least chewing him out? Why haven't they saidanythingabout it? What's going on?

It never happens. They finish this leg of the tour without a hitch. Unless you consider the way Harry continues to ignore Louis a hitch, but at least Louis isn't snapping at him right back. In fact, he's taken to watching after Harry like a lovesick puppy. Zayn would make fun of him for it if he didn't feel so bad for him.

And before Zayn knows it, he's pushing open the door to his flat. The air is stale, and it feels so unlived in, even if he knows it hasn't been empty the whole time. Cleaners should have been in here a few days ago to make sure it was ready for him when he got back, but still. There might not be dust on any surfaces, but there's still a coldness to the whole flat. And it's soquiet. He's not used to quiet anymore. How could he be, when he spends almost every night on stage? And when he'snoton stage, he's with the other boys, and you can't find silence around Niall and Louis. And he hasn't fallen asleep without Liam with him in weeks, and Liam snores, so there's literally always sound.

Now, the only thing he can hear is the change in his pocket jiggling and his footsteps against the hardwood floor. It creeps him out, honestly. It feels like he's an intruder in someone else's home. Like he's broken in and is sneaking around, trying not to get caught. So he goes straight to the TV and turns it on, letting the rerun episode of Misfits play in the background to make it feel more like he actually lives here.

He drop his suitcase on the floor by his bed, and then he sits on it. The one good thing about being home is his own bed. Nothing ever compares to it. Not even the comfortable, barely used mattresses at fancy hotels come close to the comfort of a bed that smells like him. That's covered with the deep brown comforter he'd bought years ago and had never replaced because it was perfectly warm and fluffy and when he drops his arms on top of it the feathers inside all move around and make a loud sound. His pillows, too, can't be replicated. Worn down from being used, half of them nearly completely flattened at this point.

That's how he stays for the next three hours, curled up in his bed, comforter hastily pulled over top of him. He didn't realize how tired he was until he'd closed his eyes, and he's been slipping in and out of consciousness ever since.

But he can'tsleep. He might drift off for a bit, but then he wakes back up, finds himself uncomfortable, and rolls over to the other side of he far too big for one person bed. Eventually he gives up and crawls out of bed, running a hand through his now messed up hair. He pulls out his phone, turns it over in his hands as he walks back through the apartment, heading for the living room, and then he gives in and calls Liam.

He picks up on the second ring, happy and bright when he asks, "Zayn?"

"Hey," Zayn says as he falls onto the couch. "What are you doing right now?"

Liam yawns. "Trying to sleep, actually. It's only five in the afternoon but I'm exhausted. I haven't left my bed since I got home."

Zayn mutes the TV and drums his fingers on his knees. "Yeah, I did the same thing," he admits. "But I couldn't sleep."

Liam yawns again. "I know. Something's off. I keep—" Liam grunts and a ruffling sound fills the phone. "— waking up. I can't get comfortable. Might just miss that bed back in the tour bus a little bit."

Zayn absently chews the nail on his pinky finger, eyes on the TV screen, even if he isn't conscious of anything happening on it.

"You still there?"

Liam jerks him out of his thoughts, and Zayn nearly jumps at how loud his voice sounds on the other end of the phone. "Sorry," he says quickly. "I was just — Do you want to come over here? Stay the night, maybe?"

Silence. "I was sort of looking forward to sleeping in my own bed," Liam admits. "I'm not used to being gone for so long, you know?"

"Oh, right." Zayn nods, even if Liam can't see it. "Yeah, that's cool. I get it."

"I'm gonna let you go and try to get back to sleep," Liam says. "See you tomorrow, though, okay? And we're leaving on Tuesday, right, so we'll be together then, too. "

"Okay," Zayn says softly. "Bye."

As soon as he's hung up with Liam, he tilts his head back against the sofa and closes his eyes. He really is tired, something about knowing you can finally relax after weeks and weeks of constantly being on the go makes him exhausted. But he's too restless to sleep. He gets up, paces around the flat, like he's trying to familiarize himself with it again. He checks the fridge, finds it stocked with drinks and a few microwavable things in the freezer compartment, but nothing that sounds appetizing, even though his stomach is starting to growl.

He decides to shower, leaving his clothes on the floor of his room, walking naked through the flat because hecan. His shower is huge, big enough to fit about four people at a time, not that he's, like, tested that. Just like his bed, there's something about his own shower that's so comforting. The knowledge that he's the only person (except Harry, who's used it occasionally when he crashed in the guest bedroom) who's stood naked in this exact spot and washed away the dirt and grime of the day.

By the time he gets out of the shower he feels more normal. He pulls on his bathrobe instead of his clothes, can't be fussed to do much more. And then he falls into his bed again, omitting the covers, and closes his eyes.

—

He doesn't see Liam for four days. And he's okay with it, he really is, truly, honestly. The time apart is good for them, he thinks. Gives them some much needed space to sort out their thoughts and feelings, considering that they haven't been away from each other for more than an hour or two since they've started this whole thing.

He's not okay with it.

Zayn is accurately aware of how pathetic this is, though, so he acts like he's okay with it. With the fact that Liam is always quick to get off the phone with him, shoots down every suggestion for them to hang out with some sort of excuse and a promise of, "I'll see you Tuesday, when we leave for your parent's house."

So he's had Harry and Niall and Josh over almost every day. He tried to get Louis over, but Louis is always busy, too, and it's probably good not to have him and Harry together anyways. And it's nice, just hanging out with the three of them. When Josh and Niall decide to separate their mouths and actually join in the conversation, Niall always manages to pull Zayn out of his mind for a laugh. Josh is more perceptive than even Harry, and he pulled Zayn aside twice just to make sure he was okay. And Harry is almost as good as Liam to cuddle with, so Zayn spends a majority of the day with either his head or his feet in Harry's lap while they watch Lord of the Rings and then The Hobbit, pausing every half hour to explain to Niall what's going on because, "Wait, what does the ring actually do?" "Isn't that Sherlock's boyfriend?" "Yeah but didn't Dumbledore die last movie?" "I've watched this entire series like three times but I swear I've never seen this guy in my life. Which one is he again?"

On Tuesday he spends the morning packing and getting ready. They're renting a car and Liam's going to drive (Zayn still needs to get his licence, but he's still putting it off because the thought of driving still kinda freaks him out) the five and a half hours to Zayn's parent's house. If he's still coming. Zayn doesn't think he is.

Packing doesn't take all that long, though, and he's stuck sitting there on the couch, blowing through cigarette after cigarette as he waits for Liam to call him, or text him, or just show up. And it's irritating him. Not Liam, but his own reaction to Liam. The fact that he feels so ridiculous dependent on the guy when, six months ago, he didn't even know Liam Payne existed. How does someone worm their way so affectively into someone else's life so quickly?

That's not really the issue though, is it? He doesn't mind that Liam has crawled under his skin. He doesn't mind that Liam has pushed himself into every empty piece of his soul, filling in the gaps that he didn't even realize were there. It's the terrifying realization that he would be so, completely lost if Liam decided to remove himself from those spaces. Because it's easy to go through life with missing pieces when you have no idea how it feels to be whole, but how do you go back to that when you know what it's like to be complete? He's not sure that he could, and that— that's what terrifies him.

Actually, that's a pretty f*cking good analogy, he thinks, and he's about to get up and take his shoebox out of his suitcase so he can write that down, maybe use it at some point for something, a song or maybe he should start writing poetry. f*ck, Liam Payne has effectively turned him into the type of person that actuallywouldwrite poetry about his feelings. Maybe it'd be a good thing if Liamdidn'tshow up today. If he kept avoiding Zayn. If they stopped seeing each other and his life went back to normal. Or as normal as it ever really was.

Before he can get off the sofa, though, his phone vibrates in his pocket. He pulls it out, glances down at the screen, and grins.Outside in the car hurry up!he reads before stuffing his phone back in his pocket. He forces himself to calm the hell down and slowly make his way to the door, grabbing his suitcase as he goes. He's not going to act like some neglected golden retriever that gets all excited, tail wagging furiously when he sees Liam like they've been separated for five years. He's not.

The doorman — Loren, today— smiles and waves at him as he leaves, and Zayn can't refrain from returning the smile with one of his own as he spots the black rental car out front. Liam is waiting inside, and Zayn stuffs his suitcase in the backseat (beside Liam's) before jumping into the passenger seat, pulling his belt on quickly.

Liam is sitting ridged in the seat, fingers curled tightly around the steering wheel. Zayn doesn't know what to say. There's this restless energy inside him, and he isn't sure if he's ecstatic to be back with Liam or terrified. And Liam doesn't say anything, either. He just pulls away from Zayn's building, driving slowly through the afternoon traffic, calm as can be, not once looking in Zayn's direction.

He sinks lower and lower in his seat until they're out of town, and then he hesitantly asks, "Do you want to turn around? Go home? I can take the train, or something. You don't have to do this."

Liam winces but doesn't turn to him. His fingers flex on the wheel and he breathes deeply. "I want to," he says through gritted teeth.

Zayn snorts, annoyance replacing the nervousness in him. "Doesn't sound like it."

"Ido," Liam insists.

"Whatever," Zayn scoffs. "Avoid me for days and then act like I'm not even here when we're together, then."

Unbelievably, Liam's lips start twitching, and then he's full-out grinning, body shaking with held in laughter. "Is this our first fight?" he asks.

Zayn gapes at him. "Yeah, I think it is," he says, annoyed. "I don't see why you're laughing about it."

"I'm sorry," Liam laughs. He keeps laughing, too, almost sounding manic. "I'm so, so sorry. I thought it would help, a bit of separation, you know? Because our relationship isn't exactly normal, I think. We never had a pre-dating period. It's like — one minute I was Liam, and the next I was Zayn Malik's Boyfriend. And I was worried that maybe it was weird, how easy it was. The fact that we never fought, were never away from each other. So I tried to stay away from you and, trust me, it was the hardest f*cking thing to do. I had to make Louis stay with me the whole time because I couldn't trust myself not to see you if he didn't."

Zayn's look of surprise morphs into one of complete confusion and, just a little, hurt. "You were avoiding me on purpose?"

Liam nods quickly. "Only because I thought it wouldhelp. I thought maybe I could simmer down my feelings for you a little bit. Like, take a step back, revaluate the situation, sort out my feelings, but — nothing's changed. I still want to pull over and kiss you until your lips are red. I still want to hold your hand and touch you every second of every day. I still want you just as badly as I did before the break, only now I'm annoyed with myself for wasting time that I could have spent with you instead ofnot."

A heavy weight settles on Zayn's chest, and he sounds choked when he struggles to get out, "Liam."

"I'm terribly in love with you," Liam blurts, eyes on the road. A car zooms past them, the sound of it heavy in the air, contrasting drastically with the silence that's fallen over the car. "I had to say it, I'm sorry. It's all I can think about. I'm in love with you." He frowns at himself, lips mouthing the words again. "In love with you," he repeats, like he's testing the words on his tongue, trying out how they sound. "Totally in love with you, Zayn Malik. It's almost a sickness."

The only thing Zayn can do is— stare at him. Liam keeps glancing away from the road to meet his eyes, and Zayn can't do anything else but look at him. And he can't breathe, in those moments when their eyes meet, because Liam means it. It's so clear in his expression and the soft honesty in his eyes. Liam is in love with him. And Zayn feels like crying. There's that pressure behind his eyes, and that familiar throbbing in his head. His fingers curl and uncurl of their own accord, and he feels — he feels to much, that's the problem. Overwhelmed, lost, drowning in emotions that refuse to let him surface, that threaten to suffocate and strangle him.

"You… don't feel the same way," Liam says slowly. "You're not saying it back. You don't — sh*t. I ruined it, didn't I? I totally jumped the gun there. It's too early, it's only been a handful of weeks, and I've completely f*cking —"

"No, I do," Zayn says quickly. "f*ck, I do. I do. I love — In love with you. I'm in love with you. f*ck, Liam, I'm in love with you."

"Really?" Liam looks a little disbelieving. "You're not just saying it because I said it and you feel bad for me?"

Zayn shakes his head, letting out a laugh. "No, Liam, I'm not just saying it," he assures him. "But I'm a little pissed off that you decided to blurt it while we're on the highway, because I'd sort of like to kiss you right now."

"I couldn't hold it in any longer," Liam admits, a little sheepish. "I've nearly said it a hundred times. That's another reason why I thought it might be good for us to be apart a bit, you know, so I could figure out a way to stop from saying it to you every time you smiled, or laughed, or kissed me, or even just looked at me."

Zayn settles back into his seat, an almost awed look on his face because — yeah, he's f*cking head over heels for Liam, and Liam feels the same way, and it shouldn't be that much of a surprise but itis. "I love you," Zayn says, just because he can.

"I know," Liam teases. "You already said that."

"I'll say it a million times and it won't be any less true," Zayn says honestly. And maybe he just likes the way it sounds coming out of his mouth. Maybe he wants to say it over and over until it no longer sounds foreign, but falls effortlessly from his lips. Maybe he wants to say it until Liam really gets just how true it is.

They pull into a nearly deserted gas station the next town over, and Liam gets out while Zayn waits in the car. He comes back with drinks and a pack of Reese's for both of them, and he darts a look around before stealing a kiss. Zayn wishes they weren't in public. Wishes he could hear Liam say those words again under different circ*mstances, gasped against Zayn skin while they're both naked.

But Liam turns the radio on, and they roll down the windows, and it's justnice. His and Liam's voices mingling, overpowering the music every time. Liam's hand on his thigh, and the cold air whipping past, cooling down the car without having to turn on the air conditioning. He closes his eyes and puts on his sunglasses, head tilted back against the seat while he pretends they're just a couple of teenagers going on a road trip before University. Exploring the world, stopping whenever they want and driving until they can't keep their eyes open. They'd make love in the backseat, and pull off into abandoned fields to lay on the hood of the car and gaze at the stars.

They stop again on the way, pulling into another random city that Zayn doesn't recognize by name. They pull up to a McDonald's drive-thru, and the girl working their looks like she's seen a ghost. He blinks and there's three of them, the camera's on their phone flashing as they shriek and jump around. Zayn signs a napkin for each of them and they finally hand over their food, and Liam laughs the entire time.

"Makes me feel better about myself," he explains when they drive away. "I'm not the only one crazy about you."

Zayn snorts at him and reaches for his food. Liam makes him feed him chips while he drives so he doesn't have to take his hands off the wheel, and Zayn purposefully smears ketchup on his chin. The drive feels like it takes twice as long as normal, but it also feels like it's flown by when they pass the sign leading into Zayn's hometown.

Up until this point, Liam has seemed completely calm the whole ride. It's as they drive into town that he starts looking nervous. He's constantly taking a hand off the wheel to wipe his sweaty palms on his jeans, and he's sitting rod-straight in the seat again, like he had when Zayn first got in the car. He's also chewing his lip and Zayn can practically see the thoughts flickering through his mind.

"What if they hate me?" he blurts.

"I'm pretty sure it's physically impossible to hate you," Zayn assures him. "They'll love you."

Liam glares at him. "You don't know that."

Zayn rolls his eyes. "Okay, fine. If they hate you then you can hide behind me, okay? I'll be your bodyguard for once."

Liam grins in spite of himself. "Really?"

"Sure." He flexes his arms. "I've been working out, you know."

That's all it takes for Liam to relax in his seat. Zayn gives him directions, Liam follows them, and when they pull up to the house he takes a shaking breath while parking the car. There's two other cars in the lot, his mum's SUV and his dad's Ford Falcon that probably can't even pass a safety test, it's so rusted, but he refuses to get a new one.

Liam leans forward in his seat, peaking out at the house. It's not the grandest house in the entire world, but it's nice. There's hedges surrounding the whole property for privacy, and it's three and a half floors, plus the basem*nt (though the top floor doesn't span through the entire house, and the entire thing is just Waliyha's bedroom). The backyard is huge, and it still makes his heart hurt every time he looks at it.

The front door opens, and Liam jerks back in his seat. "I don't think I can do this," he says lowly, rushed, as Zayn's mum starts towards the car. He grabs Zayn's thigh tight enough to bruise. "I've never done this before, Zayn."

"You'll be fine," Zayn promises. He unbuckles his seatbelt just as his mother gets to the car and pulls open his door for him. He only just gets out of the car before she's hugging him like it's been years and years since they've last seen each other, not a few months. "I missed you, too," he chuckles.

"Oh, god," his mother cries. Literally, she's got tears pooling in her eyes, and it makes Zayn's own burn. "You keep growing. It's freaking me out." She rubs at her eyes. "I'm the mother of two kids in their twenties. I'm soold."

"Mum," Zayn laughs, "you're notold."

"Old enough," she grumbles, releasing him. "Now where is he? Where's the boyfriend?"

Liam's door opens, and it takes him much longer than usual to get out of the car. He stands there, hands stuffed in the pockets of his jeans, eyes wide and terrified. Zayn wants to hug him, but his mum beats him too it, hurrying around to the other side of the vehicle.

"I'm so glad you could come," his mum says, as Liam awkwardly pats her back, looking a bit stunned. She pulls back and takes a good look at him. "I can see what's got my son so smitten."

Zayn flushes. "Mum."

She rolls her eyes at him and links her arm with Liam's. "Come on, leave your things in the car. We've got to show you off. And dinner will be done any minute, so I hope you're hungry. And I'll show you Zayn's room, and, oh, I've got home videos of him when he was just six years old, singing—"

Zayn hurries after them. "No, you don't," he says flatly.

His mother tugs Liam inside the house and completely ignores him. "— when he pulled theentiretable cloth off, birthday cake and all falling to the floor. He was inconsolable forhours."

Zayn groans and shuts the door behind them. His mum carts Liam into the kitchen first, frowning when she finds no one inside. Zayn kicks off his shoes and follows them to the living room, where his dad is sitting, watching sports. He only looks up for a second before returning his gaze to the screen. Then he does a doubletake and stands up abruptly.

Just like with his mum, the first thing his dad does is hug him. Then he turns to Liam, eyebrows raised. Liam quickly holds out his hand and says, "Nice to meet you, sir."

Zayn almost laughs at the way his father flexes when he takes Liam's hand, like he's trying to be intimidating. "Liam, right?"

"Yes, sir," Liam says.

His father grunts, eyes narrowing. "So you're the boy who's supposed to be protecting my son, then?"

Liam gives Zayn a nervous look. "Um, yes, I—"

"Oh benice," his mother scolds. "Honestly, he's so polite. Don't scare him off."

His father looks intimidating for only a second longer, and then he breaks out into a grin. "Yeah, alright," he says, patting Liam on the shoulder. "Nice to meet you as well, Liam."

A thin pair of arms wrap around him from behind, and Zayn turns as Safaa throws herself into his arms. She almost knocks him off his feet, and he doesn't remember her being thisbig. It always feels like forever has past since he last seen his family, and he hates that. But he doesn't want to think about that right now, because right now all he wants is to live in this moment and enjoy it.

"Are you wearing make-up?" he asks, shocked.

She bats her eyes at him. "Mum said I could."

His father sighs, like he doesn't approve, but his mother only shrugs her shoulders and says, "What? It's her body. I'm not going to put restrictions on her. If she wants to wear makeup, than I'm not going to tell her she's not allowed. And it's only mascara and lip gloss, honestly."

"Is that Zayn?" Waliyha comes into the room, a grin on her face. She takes one look at Zayn and then very obviously checks out Liam. "Mum, can I get a bodyguard?"

"No," his dad says firmly. "Definitely not."

"Okay," Zayn says loudly, crossing the room to grab Liam's hand. "Can we stop treating my boyfriend like a zoo exhibit now?"

"Boyfriend?" Safaa asks. "You brought a bodyguardanda boyfriend? Where's everyone gonna sleep? We only have one guest room."

"Speaking of," his mum says. "You two should go get your bags and bring them to your room. I'll plate dinner. Don't take too long."

Zayn forcibly pulls Liam out of the room, dragging him along behind him. The door slams shut behind them on accident, but Zayn stop until they're at the car. He lets go of Liam's hand, and Liam goes to open the door but Zayn turns him back around, crowding him up against the car, hands splayed on either side of his body.

Liam still looks mildly shocked, like he had that day during the photo shoot. Like he hasn't quite figured out what just happened, and he's a little thrown off. "You good?" Zayn asks him.

Liam nods slowly. "Yeah. They're great, Zayn, they really are. I'm just a little intimidated."

"Don't be," Zayn says. "That was the worst of it, I promise. They've never done this before, either. I've never brought someone home before. Never cared or trusted someone enough to. They're just a little excited, I think, but things'll probably simmer down at dinner. And if not we can always go to bed early. Just give me a sign and I'll get you out of there."

Liam pushes him back a bit, eyebrows furrowed. "No, I'm not — I don't want that," he says. "I don't want you to rescue me from them. I want to get to know them. I want them to like me."

"But I thought—"

"It was just a lot to process at once," Liam explains. "Not in abadway. Just give me, like, a minute or two to adjust and I'll be fine."

Zayn doesn't want to push him, though. Doesn't want to scare Liam off. Because he can only imagine how he would feel if the roles were reversed. He'd probably be out of his mind nervous. He'd probably handle it a lot worse than Liam, truthfully. He'd probably attach himself to Liam's side and threaten to kill him if Liam even considered leaving him alone for a single second.

"You're sure?"

"One hundred percent." Liam confirms. "Now come on, your mum said dinner was nearly ready. I don't want to hold everyone up."

Zayn can't resist kissing him, just a soft peck on the lips that Liam ends instantly, gently pushing him backwards. "What?" Zayn demands.

"What if they're looking out the window?" Liam hisses.

Zayn leans in again, and this time Liam doesn't even try to fight it. "Then let them look," he says lowly. "I haven't properly kissed you in days."

Liam groans, low and softly as he fists a hand in Zayn's shirt. "Too irresistible for your own good," he murmurs.

He forgets about where they are when his lips are moving against Liam's. Forgets that they're leaning against a car in front of his parent's house, and the fact that Liam was right and anyone could look out the window at any moment and see them. He forgets about their suitcases and the fact that dinner is probably on the table right now. All he can think about is how Liam tastes like Mountain Dew and kisses like the only way to get air into his lungs is to steal it from Zayn's.

When they pull apart her leans his forehead against Liam's for a moment, catching his breath. Until Liam asks, "Dinner?"

"We just ate, like, two hours ago," Zayn reminds him, shaking his head fondly.

Liam shrugs. "'m hungry, and it smelled really good."

Zayn doesn't get a chance to show Liam his room, since his mum carts Liam off to the kitchen as soon as they're inside, and she orders Zayn to bring their things up to the room. The room always feels weird to him. It's like a mixture of his childhood and his life now. There's all the furniture from when he was a kid, set up almost the exact same as it had been in their old house. But there's plain white comforter on the bed, and the side table isn't covered in empty co*ke cans and candy wrappers. There aren't any posters on the walls, like their used to be, but there's a shelf with his comics stacked on it, as well as the Iron Man mask he'd gotten for his birthday one year, and the figurines that he'd collected since he was a child, and the miniature cars he used to think were so cool.

He drops both of their suitcases on the floor and heads back downstairs. He hears the TV running in the living room and figures his dad will stay there until his mum calls them all for dinner. Liam is still in the kitchen, and he finds them both by the stove, his mum stirring something, Liam nodding along to what she's saying.

"— plates while I dish out the food," she says. "Second cupboard, third shelf."

Liam obey immediately, and Zayn's mum looks up, meeting his eyes. She doesn't alert Liam to his presence, though. Liam holds out a plate, she dishes out food, and they continue on while his mum verses Liam on every embarrassing moment from his childhood. Zayn slips back out the door and heads to the living room.

"Shouldn't you be helping your mother with dinner?" his dad asks him, as he seats himself down on the other end of the sofa.

Zayn snorts. "I've been home less than half an hour and you're already putting me to work?" His dad grunts in response. "And she doesn't need my help. Liam's helping her."

That makes his dad smile. "Good."

Zayn plucks at his jeans, pulling the material off his knees before releasing it. They're almost too tight to do that. Almost. "Do you like him?"

His dad pulls his gaze away from the TV for only a moment before watching the game again. "He seems very polite," he says with a shrug. "You could do a lot worse." And that, coming from his dad, is like singing praise.

His mum calls them all for dinner not much later, and the six of them all pile in around the large dining room table. Liam's on his left, and his dad is on his right, and his sisters are both across from him. The food is great, as it always is, and it just feels so f*ckingnormal. The way Safaa irritates Waliyha; the way his father tells them both to stop and they ignore him until his mum cuts in, and then they both behave. The way Liam's foot brushes against his the whole time.

"So, Liam," his mother starts at some point. "What's it like being Zayn's bodyguard?"

Liam puts down his fork and takes a sip of his drink first. "Um, it's very difficult," he says with a grin. "Zayn's very high maintenance. Never met such a diva in my life."

Zayn pushes him, and Liam barely moves in his seat. "Liar."

"No, he's great," Liam retracts. "One of nicest people I've ever met. Not at all what I expected."

"I take full credit for that," his mum says. "I raised him."

"Thanks, mum."

"And I had no part in it, obviously," his father cuts in.

"The day you give birth, you can take the credit," his mother smirks. "Anyways, Liam, where are you from? Tell us about yourself."

"Why aren't you ever this nice whenIbring boyfriends home?" Waliyha complains. "You're always 'No shutting the bedroom door!' 'Don't you dare defile my daughter's innocence you vile creature!' With him you're all 'Oh, Liam, you're so sweet!' 'Welcome to our home, can we adopt you?' No offence, Liam, because you are sweet, it's just totally unfair."

"When you're old enough to date, then we'll start adoring your boyfriends too," his mother says easily.

"When's that going to be?" Waliyha snaps.

His parents exchange a look and, at the same time, say, "When you're thirty."

Liam's hand slips onto his thigh under the table, and Zayn links their fingers together, squeezing in what he hopes is assurance. His mum goes back the interrogation, asking Liam about his family, and his home, and his plans for the future.

"I come from a fairly small town, actually," he admits. "I always figured I'd move back there eventually. When I've finished exploring the rest of the world, you know? When I've seen all I've needed to see, I'd go back, get a slower-paced job, live close to family. Now I'm not really sure."

"Well, anyone who says they're sure of the future is lying anyways," his mother says. "Girls, clear the dishes. Darling, could you get the dessert you made?"

"I'll help," Liam offers quickly, already standing up.

"We couldn't ask you to—"

"Mum, heoffered," Waliyha says, sitting firmly in her seat. "If he wants to help Safaa clear the dishes, don't be rude and tell him he can't."

It's late by the time his mum actually lets them get to bed. She insists on a movie with the family, where he and Liam sit on the loveseat, not curled up in each other the way they usually would because Liam's trying to be respectful or something. Waliyha bails halfway through, going upstairs to talk to her friends, and Safaa squeezes between them, leaving his parents on the couch. She falls asleep near the end, her arms around Liam, not Zayn, and Liam offers to carry her to bed.

Zayn follows them up the stairs, taking a picture of it as they go. It's just Safaa's sleeping face with her arms limply thrown over Liam's back, and the back of Liam's head. It's a little blurry, too, because they're moving. He doesn't care.

When the Safaa's door closes, Zayn crosses his arms over his chest and leans against the wall. "Do you realize how perfect you are?" he asks, and he sounds almost offended because he sort of is. It's really not fair. There's got to be a fault somewhere in Liam, but he's yet to find it.

Liam holds out his hand and Zayn takes it, only to be pulled into a tight embrace. Liam kisses his neck softly, sending shivers through his body. "Do you realize how in love with you I am?" he counters.

"My parents are probably waiting for us," Zayn warns, but he does nothing to push Liam away.

Liam bites at his neck. "Mhm."

"Weren't — weren't you the one who— wouldn't even kiss me because—"

Liam finally stops, a sigh passing his lips. He kisses Zayn's forehead and grabs his hand. "Bed soon anyways though, right? Then can I kiss you as much as I want?"

"If youmust."

—

He wakes up in the middle of the night, and he has no idea why. Liam's turned away from him, head buried under a pillow, and his entire front is pressed against Liam's back. He closes his eyes, breathes steadily, and tries to get back to sleep without waking Liam up. But his mouth is dry and he's fully awake, and he knows he's not getting back to sleep without a drink.

Quietly as he can, he climbs out of bed, making his way slowly across the room. He pulls open the door, slips out, and leaves it partially open behind himself so it doesn't make too much noise when he tries to close it.

The kitchen light is already on when he gets down there, and he finds his mum sitting at the coffee table, hair pulled up in a messy bun, yawning and sipping coffee while reading. She looks up when he walks in, rubbing at his eyes as he goes, and he waves sheepishly at her.

"Can't sleep?"

"Thirsty."

"Sit," she orders. "I'll get it for you. Coffee, juice, or water?"

He debates for a moment. He can smell her coffee, and that makes him want one, but he'd like to get back to bed with Liam soon, so he says, "Juice."

She pours it in a plastic cup and everything, like he's ten years old again and can't be trusted to use glass because he has a track record of always breaking them. He gulps half it down in one go, trying to quench his thirst, and ends up finishing the whole thing off in, like, seconds. His mum laughs at him before grabbing the whole carton from the fridge and placing it on the table.

"Liam still asleep?" she asks, as he pours himself a second glass.

Zayn smiles down at his glass. "Yeah. He's totally out. I think today took a lot out of him. He was pretty nervous."

"He shouldn't be," his mum says instantly.

"That's what I said."

She hums around her coffee cup, taking a long, slow sip. When she lowers it, she looks down for a while, a contemplative look on her face. One that Zayn's seen many times.

"Why are you even up?" he asks, realizing it's at least two in the morning.

"Oh, my friend Julie recently had a baby. She's completely lost over the whole thing. The baby sneezes and she's about ready to run it to the hospital. She called to ask me about something," she explains.

"Right."

She goes back to looking down at her coffee, and he goes back to sipping his juice and yawning periodically. He's tired, could go back to sleep, but he doesn't want to stand up just yet. Maybe in a minute. He needs to work himself up to actually moving.

"You're very in love with him, aren't you?" his mum asks, catching him off guard.

Zayn shifts in his seat a bit, eyes downcast. "Yeah."

His mum lays her hand on top of his own, giving it a squeeze. "I know. It's very obvious."

"Do you… do you approve? Like—"

She laughs, cutting him off. "Do I approve? He looks at you like you light up his entire world, Zayn. He could have four heads and I'd approve."

Zayn grins at her. "Good, because I don't know what I'd do if you said no. I'm in over my head already."

Her happy expression falls a bit. "Which is why I don't understand why you're hiding it."

Of course this is where this conversation was headed. He should have known. She's never approved of his job forcing him to be someone less than who he really is. And hiding his relationship with Liam does that. Because it's become such a big part of him even in this short period of time, that it's like he's holding back half of himself. "We have to," he says slowly. "His job—"

"Why can't he be your bodyguard and your boyfriend?" she demands. "If anything, I think your relationship would make himbetterat his job."

Zayn pinches the bridge of his nose. "Because, mum, people—"

"I think," she says firmly, cutting him off once again, "that when you make something this important to you into a dirty secret, it's only a matter of time before it truly becomes one. And I think that if anyone tries to tell you how to feel, or who you should love, that you should tell them to f*ck off."

Zayn blinks at her, astonished. She doesn't swear often, his mother. He can't remember her ever doing it through his childhood, and even now, as an adult, it sounds weird hearing something like that come out of her mouth.

"And I know you," she continues, "and I know what kind of person you are. Hiding this is only going to hurt you in the long run. And I always taught you to be true to who you are."

"Yeah," he says, because she did. "I know."

"So then tell the world. Tell everyone who will listen to you. Not everyone gets something like this, do you realize? Not everyone meets someone who fits them perfectly. Not everyone truly gets to feel what it's like to be in love and have that person be in love with you right back. Something like that — you don't hide something like that. You shout about it from the rooftops, darling."

There's that heavy weight on his chest again. And he knows that she's right. "I'll try to figure it out," he says through a yawn.

"You do that. But for now, go back to bed. You look about ready to pass out at the table."

He nods and goes to clean up his cup and the juice carton, but his mum waves him off with a kiss on the forehead and a firm, "Go tobed."

So he does, stumbling up the stairs and gripping the railing tightly. Liam is awake when he gets inside, eyes meeting his, face illuminated by the dim hallway light when Zayn pushes open the door. He shuts it behind himself and makes his way through he room in the dark, climbing back in beside Liam. "Sorry if I woke you," he adds.

"Don't worry about it," Liam yawns. "Just — couldn't — sorry, I keep yawning. I rolled over and you weren't here, and it woke me up. But it's not your fault."

Zayn settles in against Liam's side, head resting on his chest. Liam's arm is around his back, and he slowly runs his hands up and down it, tracing Zayn's spine with just his fingertips occasionally. "Do you think there's a chance theywouldn'tfire you?" he asks, voice barely audible, words mumbled against Liam's t-shirt clad chest. "I mean, do you think there's a chance that maybe — that maybe we could be together and not have to hide itandkeep our lives the way they are right now?"

Liam hesitates, Zayn can tell. "I'm not sure," he admits. "How many good things is one person really allowed to have before the universe starts balancing it out with bad things?"

Zayn closes his eyes and nods his agreement, chin digging into Liam's chest. "Yeah, I know. I just — I want to be able to hold your hand whenever I want. And I want to go to interviews and have them ask me a million questions about my incredibly fit boyfriend. I want people to mash our names together and put us on hottest couples lists. I want everyone to know that I love you."

Liam laughs quietly. "Sappy, sappy man you are, Zayn Malik," he says. "But alright."

"Alright?"

"Tell everyone," Liam elaborates. "I'm not stopping you."

"But—"

"The worst that happens is I get fired," Liam says. "Big deal. The money's notthat great, Zayn. I could always find another job. It wouldn't be the end of the world."

"Yeah, but—"

"And best case scenario is I get to keep my job and you," Liam continues, ignoring him. "Risk versus reward. I'm not risking all that much, and the possible reward outweighs anything else. And I'd like to be able to kiss you in public."

Zayn chews his lip. "But, like, you're the one compromising. I hate that. I hate that I have nothing to lose, but you do. It's not fair."

Liam's arm tightens around him, and he pulls Zayn over so he's practically laying completely on top of Liam. "I don't mind, really. As long as I've got you I can live with the rest."

"You're sure?"

"Sure about you," Liam answers. "And that's all that matters."

"Who's sappy now?" Zayn teases.

"Both of us."

Zayn laughs. "Fair enough." He kisses Liam's cheek. "Goodnight, Liam."

"G'night."

—

The week spent with his parents is one of the best in his life. He spends most of the day with his mum, catching up, helping her with chores, going to the grocery store with her occasionally. And he spends the nights on the sofa, watching sports with his dad or movies with the whole family. At night he sleeps with his arms around Liam, or Liam's arms around him. Once, he woke up and Liam wasn't there, and he'd padded confusedly down the stairs to find Liam in the kitchen, cooking breakfast with Safaa while his mum watched them fondly from the table.

It can't last forever, though he wishes it could. Wishes they had nothing to get back to, that they could stay there forever. But the days left dwindle down to nothing, and he and Liam pack up their stuff and then it's time for the goodbyes.

It's horrible. There's snotty-crying all around from everyone but Liam and his dad. His mum looks like she's literally about to kidnap them both and never let them leave. And Zayn wishes she would.

"Call more often," she says when she hugs him goodbye. "Once an hour, or I'll ground you."

Zayn laughs despite the lump in his throat and the tears in his eyes. "Yeah, okay."

"Andyou," she says to Liam, releasing Zayn so she can wrap her arms around him instead. "You come by whenever you want, understood? And you take good care of my baby."

Liam nods. "I will. I promise."

She pats his cheek. "I know you will. You're a good one, Liam. Now go, both of you, before I tie you down and keep you here forever."

Liam takes their bags and puts them in the car, and Zayn hugs the rest of his family. Just before he's about to join Liam in the car, his mum tugs him back into another hug and hisses in his ear, "I better be the first one you call when you two get engaged, okay? If I find out from some magazine I'll skin you alive. Got it?"

Zayn jerks back, eyes wide, heart hammering in his chest.

"Have a safe trip, darling!" she says happily, pushing him towards the car. "Call me when you get home so I know you're both safe."

"I— right," Zayn says, dazed. He slowly makes his way into the car, too shocked to do much else. He climbs in, Liam rolls down the window, and he waves as they pull away. Zayn can't do much more than pull his seatbelt on with fumbling hands.

Engaged.Engaged. Like, to be married. His mum thinks that — that he and Liam will— and— He's never thought about marriage in his life. Ever. Some people have that vaguely planned out future, where they figure they'll get married, have kids, settle down. Zayn's never had that. It's not that he's adverse to marriage, it's just that he's never, like, thought about it before in relation to himself.

Marriage. It's sopermanent.Well, no, not always, but he can't imagine himself ever getting a divorce. If he were ever to get married, he can't see himself doing it with someone he'd ever want to be apart from. But it's — the rest of yourlifewithone person. That kind of commitment freaks him out. How do you promise that to someone? How do you promise that to yourself? That you'll still be content with that person thirty years from now? f*ck, he can't figure out what to have for breakfast most days, let alone even think about committing to someone for the rest of his life.

But she said it like it was a sure thing. Like it was something that was inevitably going to happen, not something thatmighthappen.

"You'll see them again soon," Liam says, pulling him out of his thoughts. He's got one hand on the wheel, one on Zayn's leg, and he looks concerned.

And he thinks that it's because Zayn's leaving his family, his silent brooding. It normally would be, and soon enough he's sure he'll fall into that short bout of depression he always does after visits, where he curls up in bed and spends all his time missing them. Right now, he's a little too busy freaking the f*ck out.

"I know," he says, sounding strangled. "I'll be fine."

"Do you want me to pull over?" Liam suggest, grinning brightly. "Have a quickie in the backseat to take your mind off things?"

He can't help but laugh at that, despite the turmoil going on inside him. "Is that really an option?"

"No," Liam says regretfully. "But I could go down on you when we get home?"

Zayn reaches for the radio dial, just for something to do. "Are you coming over to mine for a bit, then, or are you going to avoid me for days like last time?"

Liam pouts at him. "You know why I did that," he reminds Zayn. "And I'll come over, if you want."

"I want." He smirks, pushing all uncomfortable or painful thoughts from his mind, forcing himself to just enjoy this right now. "I'll give you a proper tour of the flat. You should see my shower; it's huge."

"Is this your way of trying to get me to shower with you?"

Zayn smirks and looks out the window. "No. My way of getting you to shower with me would be to hold you down when we get home until we're both sweaty and covered in come and you had no choicebutto shower with me."

For just a second, the car swerves a bit to the left. Liam lets out a cough and flushes red. Zayn keeps smirking at him, everything else forgotten for the time being. He cranks the music, some Justin Timberlake song from his new CD that Liam had brought with them. "I look around and all I see is beautiful, 'cause all I see is you," Liam hums under his breath.

After the song is over, Zayn turns the music back down. "You excited to fly out in two days?" he asks.

Liam looks over at him for just a moment and lifts one of his shoulders in a shrug. "I don't know. I've never flown before. Not sure how I feel about it."

Zayn gapes at him. "Never?"

"Nope." He shrugs again. "I'm sure it'll be fine, though. I'll probably get to sit next to Louis, or maybe Joe from security, I like him…."

"No way," Zayn says, cutting him off. "You're sitting next to me."

Liam scoffs. "You going to start flying coach?"

"No, you'll fly first class with me," Zayn says simply.

Liam gives him a blank look. "My ticket's already paid for by you— or whoever it is that pays my checks. I can't afford to just buy a first class plane ticket, Zayn," he says patiently.

"Do you really think I'd make you pay?" Zayn asks, since Liam obviously doesn't get that Zayn would do anything for him, almost, at this point. And fishing out a tiny sum of money for plane tickets isn't going to come near breaking the bank for him.

"No," Liam says flatly.

"Why not?" Zayn demands.

Liam rolls his eyes. "Because, for one, it's not necessary. For another, I don't want you spending money on me."

Zayn ignores him and pulls out his phone. Liam frowns at him as he presses a few buttons, and then he's bringing it up to his ear and saying, "I'll just give El a ring right now and tell her to switch your ticket for a first class one."

"Don't you dare," Liam says forcefully, but he can't really do anything, given the fact that he's got to focus on not crashing them into the car in front of them.

The phone rings once, twice, three times, and on the forth ring Eleanor picks up with a slightly flustered, "Hello? Zayn?"

"Yeah," he says, ignoring Liam's furious look. "I was calling to ask about the flight on Monday."

Eleanor's quiet for a moment. "What's wrong? You're not looking to book a later one, are you? Because the entire schedule is planned out, and you don't really have time to—"

"No, it's not that," he says quickly, since she sounds stressed out and panicked. "It's about Liam's ticket, actually."

"Oh." He hears her let out a sigh of relief. "What about it?"

"Could you make it so he's sitting with me in first class instead?"

Once again, the other end of the line goes quiet. "You want me to fly your security first class?" she asks, slow and careful.

"Just Liam," he corrects. "And I'll pay for it myself, if I have to."

"That's not the issue," she says, clipped and sharp. "Don't think we've forgotten about that photo shoot the two of you did. Quite the controversy you've created. Are you aware of this? That people are starting to think things, Zayn? And frankly, I'm starting to think them as well."

Zayn covers the mouth piece of the phone and looks at Liam. "Remember when you said you'd be okay with us telling everyone?" he asks. Liam nods. "You still sure about that?"

Liam chews his lip, and Zayn almost thinks he's about to say no when he says, "I'm sure."

After taking a deep breath, Zayn uncovers the phone and says to Eleanor, "About that…."

—

He's got the window seat, but he makes Liam switch with him before they settle in. Liam is still looking around in interest, taking everything in. Zayn's seen it all before, and he's been on nicer planes, honestly. At least his and Liam's seats are so close. He's been on flights where there's entire walls of separation between each seat, but this isn't the case today, at least. Their seats are directly beside each other, only a small separation between them. There's enough room between the seats in front of them and behind them for them to recline their chairs far back, too. He takes advantage of that by hitting the button to release the footrest, pulls on the belt, and tries to get comfortable. An eleven hour flight is not something he's looking forward to, even in the cushy, spacious first class seats.

"It's different than I thought," Liam admits as he gets into his own seat. He sits straight up in his seat, still looking around. "It's sobig."

Zayn puts his arms behind his head, the picture of comfort. "The perks of first class, babe. You'd be stuffed in like sardines in coach."

Liam's eyes narrow. "Thank you for reminding me that I'm still not talking to you because of that."

That's onlyhalftrue. His conversation with Eleanor had gone much better than expected. She'd admitted to already having a feeling about his relationship with Liam, and she actually said that it might begoodfor his publicity. "Everybody loves a scandal," she'd said. Zayn hadn't cared about that. He wanted to get to the point and said as much, and she'd said that it might not be the best for Liam to continue on as his personal bodyguard. And Zayn had thrown a fit.

A tiny, little fit, but still. He hadn't wentfull-outbratty popstar, but he'd went a little more overboard than he normally does. He doesn't regret it, though. Not when Liam's beside him right now, not jobless. But Liam's still upset at him about the whole flight thing. As soon as they'd gotten over the initial elation at the fact that they didn't have to hide anymoreandLiam wasn't getting fired, Liam had taken a vow of silence. That lasted about fifteen minutes until he broke.

That's how it's been for the last three days. Periodically Liam will remember that he's upset with Zayn, and he'll go minutes ignoring him until Zayn kisses him, or tickles him, or makes a joke. At which point Liam will huff and try to look upset while half-smiling, claiming "Your ridiculous lips can't fix every problem, Zayn." But apparently they could, because it always got Liam to forget about the fact that he was angry.

Now, Zayn reaches for Liam's hand and widens his eyes in what is probably a not very good rendition of Liam's puppy-dog look that he sometimes does (that cracks Zayn nearly every damn time, truth be told). "No being angry on the plane," he says.

Liam refuses to hold his hand as he settles into his own seat. "You wouldn't even know if I were angry if I were in coach, where I should be right now."

Before Zayn can argue this again (he really doesn't understand what the big deal is), a flight attendant comes over to them. "Is there anything I can get for either of you before we take off?" she asks. "Also, I would like to inform you that, since your flight will be fairly long, your seats do convert into beds, and if you'd like you can request myself or another steward to help you with this. There's also a separation screen between your seats, if you require more privacy."

"How do I work the screen?" Liam asks, pointedly glaring at Zayn.

"Oh, it's very easy." The stewardess quickly moves to help him, and then there's this thick piece of plastic separating he and Liam almost completely. The stewardess is on Zayn's side of the screen, and she smiles at him before asking again, "Now, is there anything I can get either of you?"

"I'm good," he mumbles, arms crosses petulantly over his chest. "Actually, wait, could I get a pillow and blanket? I think I'd just like to sleep through this."

"Of course," she says, so damn perky and pleasant it's almost irritating. "Though I can't allow you to turn your seat into a bed until after take-off. Sorry."

"It's fine," Zayn says, waving her off. "I'll wait."

She ducks her head around to Liam's screen. "And anything for you?"

"No, I'm good," he hears Liam say. "Thank you, though."

When she's gone, Zayn glares at the stupid screen separating them, but he refuses to crack first. He can see Liam's legs, but that's it, and it's irritating him to no end, but if Liam wants to sulk and be a child then he can. Zayn isn't going to beg him to stop.

Until they're all told to be ready for take off. He hits the screen button on his own side, but nothing happens. "Liam, put the f*cking screen down," he orders.

Very slowly, the plastic thing disappears back between their seats. Liam smiles tightly at him. "Yes?"

Zayn reaches over and grabs his hand. "We're about to take off," he explains. "I don't want you getting scared on your first flight."

"I'm not scared," Liam says easily, but he doesn't pull his hand away. "I'm excited, actually."

"Oh." He frowns at himself. "That makes one of us, at least."

Liam looks at him curiously, the barely repressed annoyance on his face slipping away. "You're afraid of flying?" he asks softly.

Zayn glares at the seat in front of him. "Maybe."

Again, they're told that they're about to take-off. Zayn tightens his grip on Liam's hand, noticing that his own fingers are shaking. He can't help it. He's flown so many times, and it never gets any easier. He just doesn'tlike it, okay? What's there to like about it? Flying doesn't even makesense. Planes are f*ckinghugeandheavyand somehow they just — like, float in the f*cking air. How does that even work? And who's to say they won't plunge to their death at any second? You never know. It happens all the time, actually, plane crashes. It's a totally reasonable fear.

"Zayn." Liam's voice is soft, barely audible. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because it's dumb," Zayn mutters. "It's stupid, okay? I know it is. I just can't help it."

"It's not stupid," Liam says. "Lots of people are afraid of flying."

"Yeah, I know." He groans at himself. "It's just a bit ridiculous, though. I fly all the time. I should be used to it by now, but —" He cuts off, eyes squeezing closed as they start moving. He can feel it, the movement underneath him. His heart starts hammering in his chest. "Oh, God, I want off. Liam, I — can we just — get someone to stop the plane and get me off, okay? I want off, I—"

Liam squeezes his hand so hard it hurts. He flinches, eyes popping open. Liam turns as much as he can in his seat and reaches up to fist a hand in Zayn's hair. Ithurts, actually, but Liam doesn't seem to care. Maybe the pain is the point. "You're okay," Liam says lowly. "You're fine, Zayn. I'm right here. Nothing's going to happen to you."

Zayn takes a gasping breath. "You can't protect me from a plane crash, Liam."

"Watch me." A hysterical sounding laugh comes out of his mouth in response to that, and Liam lets up on his hair a bit, but he pulls Zayn in close to him and leans so they're almost kissing. "I mean it. You've got nothing to worry about as long as I'm right here, okay?"

Zayn nods slowly, thinking about nothing but Liam's eyes (always so warm, endlessly brown and wide and honest) and his lips (pink, full, so f*cking kissable all the time) and his stubble covered jaw (sharp and gorgeous) and his hand clenching Zayn's (strong, thick fingers). He remembers how to breathe while looking at Liam.

Eventually the plane ride smoothes out, and Liam leans back in his seat as the sound of people unbuckling their seatbelts softly sounds through the plane. Zayn keeps his on.

"Thank you," he says to Liam. "For — you know."

Liam looks out the small window and shrugs. "I just didn't want to pick up a magazine tomorrow and read 'Diva Zayn Malik delays entire plane by forcing the captain to stop the flight seconds before they were in the air,'" he teases.

Zayn makes a face at him for it. "Not funny, Liam."

"It wasn't," Liam agrees. "I'm sorry. And I hate seeing you like that."

Zayn turns his head. "Let's not talk about it, then."

"Deal. But what exactly do we do during an eleven hour flight?"

Zayn raises his eyebrows and waves down a flight attendant. "We sleep."

Or that's what Zayn does for the first three hours. Liam sits awake, reading one of the comics he'd brought with him with his seat reclined the way Zayn's is. And Zayn sleeps soundly while holding Liam's freehand, until his stomach drops and he bolts upright. Over the loudspeaker he hears, "We're just experiencing a bit of turbulence. Everything is fine, but we encourage everyone to please stay in your seats. If you—"

"Oh, God," Zayn moans. "Oh my God. f*ck. Liam, Liam—"

Liam grabs his hand again, and Zayn realizes he's the only one panicking. Or he doesn't hear anyone else panicking, though he does hear one person's annoyed, "Ugh, can I get a napkin, please? My drink spilled everywhere."

"How are you not freaking out?" he hisses at Liam. "This is your first time flying and —oh sh*t. Did you feel that? We're gonna crash and die and burn and —"

"We'renotgoing to crash," Liam says.

"How do you know?" Zayn snaps at him. "Are you flying the plane, Liam? No. You're not, and we're gonnadie. I can't breathe. I can't— I'm freaking out, I—"

Liam releases his hand. Zayn whines at the loss of contact and the way it makes him feel a million times more terrified, if that's even possible. But then Liam's slipping his hand into Zayn's blanket, and that fear disappears momentarily.

"What are you doing?" Zayn whispers.

Liam looks at him, completely innocent. "Calming you down."

His hand moves over Zayn's thigh, grazing over his crotch, and Zayn takes a sharp look around. The seats parallel to them are nearly empty, save for a man that looks like he's in his fifties, snoring as he sleeps straight through the way the plane seems to shake and lose altitude. He can't tell if anyone behind them can see anything, and he isn't about to turn around to check.

"That's — that's probably not a good idea," Zayn says as quietly as he can. "Someone could get out of their seat and see, or—"

Liam grips him tightly through his jeans, and yeah, Zayn's f*cking hard. He can't help it. "You're still shaking," he comments.

"Yeah, but that might have more to do with the fact that you're touching mydick, so— Oh, f*ck." He squeezes his eyes closed again and focuses on Liam's hand instead of the nausea that thunders through him as the plane continues to jolt uneasily.

Liam easily undoes Zayn's jeans, tugging down the zipper. Zayn frantically checks to make sure, once again, that no one's watching as Liam's hand slips under the waistband of his boxers. It's too tight, not enough room, but Liam finds a way to wrap a hand around him anyways. Liam leans over the seat divider, and Zayn tilts his head, waiting for Liam's lips to find his own. They do, but he only brushes his lips against Zayn's before saying, "f*ck, you're so hot."

The plane jerks, but Liam's grip tightens around him, and he thumbs over the head of Zayn's co*ck, doing his best to smear precome over it. Zayn bites down sharply on his tongue to stop from making a sound at that, eyes closing once more. He can't help the frightened whine when the plane jolts again, though, but Liam easily talks him through it.

"Right before you come," he says, breath splaying against Zayn's part lips, "you get this look on your face." He stops for a moment to pull Zayn out of his boxers and jeans, careful to keep the blanket covering them, not that it does much to hide what's happening underneath it. "It's the greatest thing I've ever seen. You're so beautiful, but in that moment, knowing I did that—" He cuts off with a moan and speeds up, and the sound of his hand moving over Zayn's co*ck is loud enough that they're going to get caught, but Zayn can't tell him to stop.

"Liam."

"I know," Liam says. "f*ck, I'm so hard right now, just watching you trying not to moan. You're obscene, you really are."

Zayn tilts his head back and brings his fist to his mouth, biting down on it. Liam's hands have always been a little callused, and that only makes it better, really. He somehow knows just how Zayn likes it, perfect grip, speeding up at the right times and slowing down at others to keep him so close to the edge. His body is tensed still, but it's no longer because of fear. He feels like he's burning up, heat waving over his body as he tries to catch his breath and not thrust up into Liam's hand.

"Should be clear skies from this point on, folks," he hears over the loud speaker.

Now that he hears that, he realizes the plane isn't jostling anymore. And he lets out a relieved sigh and concentrates on the way Liam's making him feel. He's so close, now, and then—

Liam's hand disappears without warning. Zayn blinks open his eyes, giving Liam a sharp look. "Liam, what—?"

Liam smirks to himself and picks up his comic. "Next time when I tell you not to throw your money around, maybe you'll listen to me," he says happily.

Zayn gapes at him. He drops his gaze to where he's tenting the blankets with his erection and then glares back at Liam. "You can't be serious. Babe, Liam, come on. I'm so close, please. Don't. Liam, come on."

"Nope." He licks his fingers and turns the page. "Hm, d'you think we could go see Pacific Rim the next time you have the day off? It looks pretty good." He turns to look at Zayn, the picture of innocence. "Something wrong, babe?"

"Liam," he spits. "I can't just get myself off on a f*cking airplane."

"Should have thought of that before."

Zayn continues to glare at him, but it does nothing to break Liam's resolve. So he tries pouting, and even begging, but Liam steadily ignores him, even though Zayn notices the bulge in his own jeans and offers to take care of it if he'd just get Zayn off first. But he says no, and Zayn ends up doing up his jeans over his boner and making his way to the bathroom. It's an all time low, honestly, wanking in the bathroom on a f*cking airplane, but it's a physical ache, at this point, aneedto get off, not a want.

He's flushed red when he exits the bathroom, but no one looks at him funny or seems to have suspected anything. He falls back into his seat beside Liam and glares at nothing for a while before asking, "Are we even, now? Does that count as payback?"

Liam smirks to himself. "I guess we could call it even."

—

"Fifteen, he can't ever f*cking do his dishes," Harry continues loudly. "Sixteen, heneverputs his shoes neatly by the door. He always kicks them around the apartment and leaves me to clean them up. Seventeen—"

"Harry," Zayn snaps. "Seriously."

Harry sits up, no longer laying on his back on sofa in their tour bus. He runs a hand through his hair and pouts. "Why is it that I don't hate him? I could go on, the list isendlessbut I still love him."

"Because he's your best friend," Niall supplies.

"Zayn's my best friend," Harry corrects, before hastily adding, "I mean, if I had a best friend. But I don't play favourites. I love all of you equally."

"Zayn doesn't want to be your favourite," Zayn groans. "Zayn wants you and Louis to stop be so f*cking stupid."

"Yeah, well." Harry tilts his chin defiantly. "Harry wants Louis to stop being an ass all the time."

"Niall wants you two to shut the f*ck up," Niall adds from his bunk, where he's curled up with Josh.

"I just want you all to stop talking in third person," Josh says. "It's annoying and creepy."

Zayn rolls his eyes and checks his watch. Or— Liam's watch, really. Zayn is terrible at remembering when he's supposed to do things, always forgetting to check the time or set an alarm, and Liam had slipped it onto his wrist one day because of that. He's yet to take it back off, except for when he showers. It's not the nicest watch, honestly. It's old and the second hand it stuck between the two and the three, but it's got Liam's dad's initials carved into it and it means a lot to Liam, so naturally Zayn loves it.

"Seriously?" Harry demands, but he doesn't sound upset. Just fond, mostly. "It's not even been an hour. Your separation anxiety is ridiculous."

Zayn glares at him for that. Liam and Louis went out for the day to do some shopping, and Zayn isn't having separation anxiety. He's notthatco-dependent, thanks. He's just a bit tired, and bored, and he wants to go back to his own bus and sleep, but he can't do that without Liam, which is why he's on the other bus with Harry and f*cking Cory and Topanga.

"f*ck off," Zayn says without heat. "Or I'll go on your twitter and start tweeting about how much you love Louis' ass."

Harry scoffs. "You don't know my password."

"Really." He sits up, pulling out his phone. He signs out of his own account, types in Harry's email address and tries "LouisTomlinson. Oh, huh, that actually didn't work."

"You're not going to get it," Harry says with a smirk. "It's not that obvious."

"So you're admitting that it's obvious," Niall interjects. "That it'd be Louis. So you're technically admitting that your love for Louis is obvious. Just so you're self-aware."

"Try Louis' birthday and middle name together," Josh suggests.

Harry goes white. "Don't."

It works. Zayn jumps out of his seat when Harry reaches for his phone, and he smashes the keys and does his best to hit 'tweet'. "I love Louis Tomlinson more than I love hipster bands, and my fascination with bananas is questionable," Zayn says while he types, but he really posts 'I owe Zayn for life for not embarrassing me to in front of my million followers.'But he can't resistLiamPayne you're so hot I want to lick ur abs for days.

He checks Liam's twitter, just to see when he last updated, and findsHarrystyles um u ok?

Zayn grins to himself and quickly types outLiamPayne no I miss u bby when r u coming back?

Almost immediately he gets a text from Louis that readsGET OFF HARRY'S TWITTER YOU f*ckER. Zayn ignores him.

HarryStylesum soon I think? :/

"You're a prick," Harry states.

Zayn ignores him, too.Liam Payne good. I'll be waiting in bed 4 u gorgeouswearing nothing but whipped cream ;)

Niall's snorting with laughter by the time he's done, but Harry's sitting on the couch, pouting and ignoring him. Josh is glaring at him, like he doesn't find it funny, and Zayn sighs at them both. "I'm sorry," he offers. "You can always just tweet that it was me on your twitter."

"I don't want to," Harry says quietly.

"No," Niall groans. "Not again, Harry. Don't do the moping thing again. I'll start throwing things at you, I swear it. Soft, light things, but still. Like, marshmallows. But I'll throw 'em real hard."

"Okay," Harry sighs out. "I understand if that will make you feel better. I'm sorry I'm being such a buzz kill."

It physically huts him, the defeated slump to Harry's shoulder. He puts his phone down and sits on the sofa, arm going around Harry's shoulder. He pulls him in, until Harry's head is propped under his chin, curls tickling his neck. He smells like pine needles today, sharp and woodsy. "Harry," he says.

"Zayn," Harry says right back.

Zayn rubs his arm. "You're really upset about this, aren't you? I mean, I get it, the fact that you both would rather yell at each other than admit that you love each other, but — I mean, you really don't get that he's just as in love with you as you are with him, do you?"

"Can we just not talk about it, please?"

"Yeah," Zayn agrees, if only to get the wounded sound out of Harry's voice. "Yeah, we can not talk about it."

"You know what we should talk about?" Harry asks abruptly, sitting up so fast he knocks his head against Zayn's chin, making them both wince. That's just Harry; he went from on the verge of tears to breathtakingly happy in seconds, his mouth spreading into a wide grin. "The fact that you totally owe us for Liam. If it weren't for us, you'd never have met him."

Which is true. He's thought about that once or twice, how close he and Liam were to never meeting. If he would have been a little more firm, or if he would have called off the interviews a little earlier, it never would have happened. And, admittedly, the others can take credit for it happening. "Guess I should thank you guys, then," Zayn says. "Doesn't mean I'm actually going to, though."

Harry punches his shoulder and Zayn reaches forward, pulling at the elastic headband he's wearing so it snaps against his forehead. "Ouch."

"Loser."

"Prick."

Later, when he's back with Liam in his own tour bus, he chews on two pieces of gum and tries to think. Liam's sitting beside him, playing games on the DS. Zayn groans and rolls so he sprawls right out on top of Liam, limbs spread wide. "We need a plan," he states.

"What kind of plan?" Liam inquires, the only reaction to Zayn flopping onto him being the lifting of his arms so he can continue playing the game. "Damn it, Donkey Kong, why did you have to throw that shell you piece of sh*t?"

Zayn laughs. "Do you realize that the only time you swear is during sex or when you're playing Mario Kart?"

Liam blinks down at him. "I didn't mean to. This game really upsets me."

"Your abs upset me," Zayn counters.

"Is that why you tweeted about them from Harry's account? Which wasn't funny, you know. It threw me off for a minute. I was extremely uncomfortable. I thought Lou was going to kill me over it."

"Speaking of that," Zayn says, pushing himself up. He extracts the game from Liam's hands, ignoring Liam's sound of protest. "We need to figure out a way to fix this for them. They're never going to do it themselves. We need to be the ones to do it."

Liam makes a face. "I'd really rather not get involved in their relationship."

"Why?"

"Louis terrifies me a bit, and I also don't think it's our right to interfere. They'll work it out on their own if it's meant to happen."

"You don't know them the way I do," Zayn argues. "Theywon't. They will literally avoid this until they're both, like, ninety-five, sitting in an old folks home, bickering with each other when they can't even use the bathroom by themselves, making everyone miserable."

"What do you propose we do, then?"

Zayn thinks. And thinks. And thinks. "I have no idea."

"I still think my idea was a good one," Liam says while brushing Zayn's hair with his fingers. "The tweet at the concert thing. Public, romantic. I think it'd work."

"If Louis weren't a chicken sh*t," Zayn agrees.

Liam hums his agreement. "We could do it for him," he muses. "Not give him the choice."

"Wait," Zayn says suddenly. "What if we locked them in their tour bus? Refused to let them out until they talked about their feelings. Louis would be less likely to kill us, and Harry would be less likely to cry on stage in front of thousands."

Liam looks sceptical. "They might killeach other, though."

Zayn shrugs. "That would still solve the problem of them being annoyingly emotionally constipated."

Liam debates this for a moment. "That may actually work," he agrees. "You evil genius."

"I try."

Zayn takes out his shoebox and flips through his notebooks, rereading his newest stuff while Liam goes back to his game. It's good, he thinks. Maybe not the best, maybe not goodenough, but good. He likes it. When he starts humming one of the songs under his breath, he notices Liam discreetly turn down the game volume, his eyes flicking to Zayn's until he realizes Zayn's watching him, too. He pretends to look into the game after that, like Zayn won't sing if he knows Liam's watching.

Quite the opposite, actually. He sings a little louder, testing how certain lines sound out loud, if they match what he'd pictured in his head. Liam gives up all pretence of playing and tosses the game onto the small bedside tale. He moves until his head falls into Zayn's lap and he closes his eyes. "Don't stop," he urges. "Love it when you sing."

So Zayn does, until Liam's smiling and his words are breaking off because he's too caught up in tracing Liam's cheekbones to remember what he's doing. Liam scolds him for this, makes him start again, and Zayn can't say no to him so once again he continues.

"Your birthday's coming up," he comments at some point.

"Why are you not singing?" Liam complains.

"Because, you donut." He pokes Liam's nose. "I'm asking you what you want to do for your birthday."

Liam bats open his eyes, giving Zayn a carefully considerate look. "Can we do whatever I want?"

"Of course."

"I meanwhateverI want. No matter how ridiculous it sounds, or what it costs, or anything? And you can't say no or argue for any reason?"

Zayn brushes his fingers over Liam's eyebrows. "Ask me for the world and I'd figure out a way to give it to you, I promise."

"I don't doubt that you'd try," Liam admits. He grins and kisses the inside of Zayn's palm. "Okay, I don't want a gift. I just want cake and maybe snacks or something with the other lads in a hotel room with a TV so we can all watch movies."

Zayn waits for him to continue but he doesn't. "I could literally fly you across the world," Zayn says. "We could watch the sunset in Paris. Spend the night on a beach in Jamaica. Feed each other fruit while laying in a hammock in Costa Rica, or Greece. We could go toDisneylandor any theme park you could think of. We could go to Vegas and — We could do anything in the world and you want a movie night in a hotel room with the guys?"

"Maybe it could be a room with a hot tub, that way you and I could relax afterwards. And maybe you could give me a backrub, but only if you're feeling up to it."

"Only if—" Zayn cuts off, bending down awkwardly so he can kiss Liam. It strains his neck, burns his muscles, but he doesn't care. "You're unbelievable."

Liam kisses him back, looking damn pleased with that. "Wait," he says, pushing at Zayn's chest. "There's one other thing I'd like."

"It's not something I can buy you, is it?"

Liam shakes his head. "It's not." He tugs at the collar of Zayn's shirt, pulling him closer again. Liam's eyes close, but instead of kissing Zayn he says quietly, "I'd like to, um, like — don't feel pressured but if youwantedto I'd maybe like us to, um, you know.You know."

Zayn thinks he has a pretty good guess, but he says, "Sorry, Liam, I'm not following."

Liam goes red, eyes narrowing. "Is this payback for the plane thing? You're going to make me say it?" Zayn grins down at him, and Liam sighs deeply. "Okay, I'd like for us to — on my birthday." He trails a finger over Zayn's throat, up to his chin. "I'd like to do that with you. We've done everything else."

Zayn's certain Liam can feel his pulse thundering under his fingertips. He gives up every pretence of teasing Liam because he wants that, too. Badly. So badly, actually. "We can do that," he says, slightly breathless.

"Really?"

Zayn laughs. "Yes, Liam, really. Like I'd say no, I don't want to have sex with you. Because I do. I want to have sex with you all the time, in fact. At least ninety percent of the time."

"How romantic," Liam snorts.

"Oh, you want romance?" Zayn asks. He pushes everything away, slipping out from under Liam's head so he can crawl on top of him. He splays his fingers on Liam's chest and leans down. "I can do romance. Just you watch."

"I'll believe it when I see it."

"You will," Zayn promises, and he vows to do everything he can do accomplish this. Music, flowers, dimmed lights, the whole f*cking shebang. "Everything for you. Just ask and I'll find a way to do it."

"In that case," Liam yawns, "can we go to bed? Been tired for an hour but you were singing and it was lovely so I wasn't going to say anything."

Zayn groans and rolls off him. "Hell, Liam, you're so high maintenance."

—

It's fairly easy to get everyone on board with their plan, but what'snoteasy is keeping it from Harry and Louis. And also getting them both on the bus at the same time without either of them following Josh and Niall out when they leave. Twice they've tried, and both times Harry made an excuse to follow them off the bus, thus foiling their plan. So Zayn thought of a new one. And their friends are probably going to kill them for it, and it took a look of pleading by Liam to the bus driver (who of course said yes because he and Liam were already friendly enough, since Liam befriends everyone he meets, apparently), but it's working.

It's six in the morning, is the thing. Harry and Louis are still asleep when the bus stops, and Josh and Niall stumble from their bus, rubbing their eyes and yawning, blankets thrown over their shoulders. "Too tired for this sh*t," Niall groans when he gets onto Zayn's bus. "Too tired for any sh*t."

Zayn yawns and rests his head tiredly on Liam's shoulder. "It'll be worth it," he mumbles. "True love and all that bullsh*t."

"It's too early for true love," Niall decides. "'m going back to bed. Josh?"

Josh is nearly falling asleep while standing up. He blindly reaches out for Niall's hand, and Niall tugs him to the sofa, where they both collapse in what looks like a really uncomfortable heap. But they stay just like that, one of Niall's feet planted firmly on the floor, Josh's head hanging off the edge, neither shifting to get in a better position.

"That was kind of impressive," Liam comments.

Of coursehesounds wide awake. Liam tends to get up early, and once he's awake it's hard to get him back to bed, no matter how much begging Zayn does. "Back to sleep, Liam," he tries anyways.

"Too awake," Liam admits. "But it's fine, you go back to sleep, I'll stay with you."

So that's what they do. Zayn wakes up some time later to his phone ringing. He searches for it, hand slapping against the bedside table until Liam reaches over and hands it to him. He presses talk, lifts it to his ear, and mumbles, "Yeah?"

"This isn't funny," Harry hisses in his ear. "Zayn, tell them to stop the bus and let us off. Now."

"Tell him I'll f*cking kill him if I get my hands on him! Liam better be damn f*cking good at his job because I'm coming for you, Zayn!" Louis shouts in the background.

Zayn expected this. It's actually part of the plan. "Harry," he says calmly, way too alert for someone who woke up only seconds ago, "just calm down. Listen to me. Are you listening?"

"Obviously."

"There's stuff to make breakfast in the minifridge and in the cupboards. There's lube and condoms stashed in the bathroom. There's all of your favourite romantic movies by the TV. Stop complaining and justenjoyyourselves. Talk. Work it out. And you're not allowed off the bus until you both at least apologize and sort through your feelings."

"What did he say?" Louis demands. "Let me talk to him!"

"No," Harry says quickly. "He, uh, said we aren't allowed to leave the bus until we… sort out our feelings, apparently."

"I'll sort out my feelings on his f*cking face," Louis spits. "Zayn! I know you can hear me! You've got five minutes to get me off this bus or I—"

"Juststop," Harry snaps. Louis cuts off and Zayn sucks in a sharp, surprised breath. "Is the thought of being stuck on here with me really that bad? A year ago we would have loved it. It would have been no big deal. And now we're acting like someone's slowly killing us, forcing us to spend time together."

"Yeah, well." Louis scoffs. "That was before you decided to hate me."

"No, that was before I realized that I felt a lot more for you than you did for me," Harry says lowly. "There's a difference. I never hated you. I hate the way you made me feel, yeah, but I don't hateyou."

Zayn hangs up the phone. He doesn't want to hear that. It's not his place, and he'd feel like he was intruding, eavesdropping, if he continued to listen. He finds Liam looking at him curiously when he puts down the phone, and he explains, "They're talking, I think."

"Good." Liam pulls him closer. "Maybe it'll all work out, then."

Zayn covers his mouth with a yawn. "So what are we going to do today?"

Liam shrugs. "Whatever you want. You've got the whole day off."

"Can we all go to dinner?" Josh interrupts. He's leaning in the doorway of their back room, looking a little sheepish. "Sorry, I wasn't trying to eavesdrop. Niall's still sleeping and I got bored."

Zayn double-checks to make sure that Liam's fully covered (sometimes he sleeps withoutanythingon, and he'd rather not have anyone else see that), and then he tugs and a hand through his hair while shrugging. "The four of us? Like a double date?"

"Niall and I don't exactly go on dates," Josh admits.

"Yeah, you two stay home and f*ck like rabbits all day," Zayn says.

Liam and Josh both blush at that, and Liam taps his leg, not approving. "Whatever," Josh says easily. "Yeah, I guess we do. But I'd like to go out for once."

Zayn debates for a moment before turning to Liam. "What do you say, babe?"

"Will I get to hold your hand?"

"If you want."

"And kiss you?"

"Sure, Liam."

"One condition, then," Liam says. Zayn raises his eyebrows expectantly, and Liam swoops in, lips finding Zayn's neck. And he sucks hard. Zayn's back arches on instinct, and he slides a hand into Liam's hair, gripping it tightly, not sure if he's trying to pull Liam's head away or force him to keep going.

A moan slips between his lips, and it sounds a hell of a lot like Liam's name. He tilts his head back, bearing his neck a little better, and Liam stops sucking to pepper kisses all along it, offsetting every gentle brush of his lips with a sharp little nip that has Zayn's toes curling because he likes that. Likes the hair pulling and the biting and the knowledge that Liam's left a mark on him.

"Oh, wow," Liam say when he pulls back. "Might have gone a little overboard there." He presses his fingers to Zayn's neck and gives him a wide-eyed, apologetic look. "Sorry."

"Don't be," Zayn says, a little dazed.

Liam grins at him. "Guess I'd be up for a double date, now that I've left my mark on you for once," he says. "So yeah, Josh— Where'd he go?"

Zayn looks to the doorway, but Josh has left, shutting the door and everything. Zayn tugs Liam closer to him again. "Who cares."

By the time they actually get out of bed and get dressed, it's nearly the afternoon. He has so many missed messages and upset texts from Louis and Harry, but he ignores them. For now. When they get back they'll let them out, even if they haven't fixed the problem. Or maybe even if the problem isn't fixable.

"Where are we going?" Niall asks when they all pile into the car. He and Liam get the backseat, Niall and Josh take the middle. "Because you realize we can't all afford to eat at the places you eat, right?"

Zayn grins. "You can if they're giving us our entire meal for free as long as I tweet about the place."

"Fame whor*," Niall chides.

"What does that even mean?" Josh asks.

"It's like — he pimps out his fame to get stuff instead of his body. Fame whor*."

Zayn flicks him on the back of the head for that. "You can pay for you and Josh, then."

The restaurant they go to is fairly fancy. It's not the type of place that you're forced to wear something formal, though, which is good, considering the fact that they're all in t-shirts and jeans, except Liam, who's in just a tank top because it's summer and it's hot and maybe Zayn asked him to because Liam'sarms.

The waitress who serves them seems a bit flustered, and she nearly spills everything she puts on the table. It's nice, though. The food's good, even if Liam looks lost when he's looking over the menu so Zayn orders for him. And Josh and Niall are always great company; they both could lighten up the darkest of moods, and maybe that's why they work so well together. Niall burns brightly like the sun, forever chipper and upbeat, and Josh has the same kind of warmth that Liam does, radiating from him like a campfire on a cold summer night.

Near the end of their lunch, Zayn notices the people milling around out front of the restaurant. Liam notices them, too, and he leans in closely to whisper, "Want me to find us a back exit out of here to avoid that?"

Zayn shakes his head firmly. "No, I don't. I'm on a date with the love of my life and my best friends. I sort of want this moment to headline in magazines. Want to be able to look at it in the future and remember how happy I was today."

"You're sure?"

"Yeah," Zayn says. "And now that I can finally show you off, I don't think I want to stop."

Liam's eyes drop to the mark on Zayn's neck. It's not as noticeable as he thought, but it's still clearly there. Pink with dark pinpricks of red, and it hurts a little when he touches it, but in a good way. Liam can't stop looking at it, and this possessive look comes over his face when he does. Maybe that should bother him; it really doesn't. If anything it makes him shift in his seat and adjust himself in his pants because that looks gets him a little too heated than he should be in public.

"Okay," Liam agrees. He kisses Zayn's cheek, right there in clear site of the windows. Zayn has no doubt that someone's got a blurry picture of it, and he doesn't even care.

"Can we do something after this?" Niall asks. He's finishing off Josh's pasta, reaching right over Josh to steal pieces of it. "Like ice cream, or something."

"I don't like ice cream," Liam says.

Niall and Josh both gape at him. "How—how?"

"Too cold," Liam says with a shrugs. "Texture's weird. I just don't like it."

"That's f*cked up, man," Niall says solemnly. "Real f*cked up, Liam."

"There's a laser tag place a few streets from here," Josh says while flipping through his phone. "It's cheap, fun, and I've always wanted to play laser tag."

Zayn makes a face. That sounds like a lot of running and exercise. Liam and Niall, on the other hand, brighten like children on Christmas morning. "Oh, alright," Zayn relents.

"We'll do teams," Liam bargains. "And we'll kick their asses."

"The bigger they are," Niall says pointedly to Liam, "the harder they fall."

Their meal really is free, but Zayn heavily tips the waitress. They don't bother calling the car, since the laser tag place really is only a few streets down, but Zayn regrets that the second they get outside. He'd thought it wouldn't be that bad, but it is.

"Zayn! Over here!" "Zayn, could you answer a few questions for us?!" "Zayn, is it true that you're dating Selena Gomez?"

Zayn tries to blink away the flash from the camera and shoulder past the people blocking his way. Liam is right there, arm going around his waist. "Could you please give us some room?" Liam asks politely, but he doesn'tlookpolite. His eyes are narrowed and he looks ready to bite anyone who comes to close, like a seriously protective guard dog.

"It's okay, babe," Zayn assures him, leaning in to kiss his cheek. Liam relaxes instantly, shoulders slumping a bit.

"Was that a kiss?" someone shouts. "Did he just kiss—?"

"Yes, he did," Liam says confidently. "If you could excuse us, please, we're on a date."

"A date?" someone else yells. "Does that mean it's official, Zayn? Are you really dating your bodyguard?"

Zayn smiles sweetly. "I am, actually. Liam, if you could?"

Liam nods. He tightens his grip on Zayn's waist and, like that night at the charity ball, easily bulldozes through the crowd of people. Sometimes Zayn forgets just how good he really is at his job. Forgets that the corded muscles that wrap around Liam's body are more than just aesthetically pleasing.

It's not that easy to get the paparazzi to leave them alone, but some of them do back off. A few trail after them as they make their way down the street, hand in hand, with Niall and Josh a ways ahead of them, avoiding the thick of things. Zayn just ignores it, paying attention to only Liam and where they're going.

He doesn't notice until they get to the laser tag place. Liam's got blood dripping from his eyebrow, down his face. Zayn freezes, eye wide, and reaches up to cut his cheek. His stomach knots uncomfortably, and he can't breathe for a moment. "What happened?"

"Someone's camera," Liam admits, reaching up to wipe the blood away with the palm of his hand. "It's fine, no big deal."

"Liam." It is a big deal, actually. The red crusts to his skin, and he can see the small gash now, just below his left eyebrow. "Babe, f*ck, you'rehurt."

"It'sfine," Liam assures him. "Honestly. It's not a big deal. It's barely a scratch."

"Yeah, but—" It's hard to get the words out through the lump in his throat. "'s my fault."

Liam kisses him, firm and sloppy and exaggerated, tongue pushing easily into Zayn's mouth. There's got to be people watching them, at least the guy behind the counter who Niall and Josh are talking to about prices, but neither of them really give a sh*t. "A single scratch isn't going to kill me," Liam says. "And I'd take a lot more than that to keep you safe, you know that."

Zayn sighs. "Doesn't mean I like it."

"I know." Liam kisses his temple. "Now come on, laser tag, Zayn.Laser tag."

"Running, Liam," Zayn complains. "Gross."

It's fun, though. They do teams, only it's Zayn and Niall versus Liam and Josh. Which is probably the worst idea, actually. Niall's more out of shape than he is, stopping to catch his breath whenever he can. And Josh and Liam workout together, sometimes, so they're more than outmatched.

"I live— off takeaway— and beer," Niall pants while they hide behind some sort of foam wall thing. "Only reason I don't way three hundred pounds is — a good metabolism. I'm not cut out for — sh*t like this."

Zayn punches him in the shoulder. "You're gonna let them beat us? You think they'll ever let us live that down?"

"You're way too competitive, mate," Niall groans. "Wish Harry were here. He'd curl up on the ground and let us win."

It'sfunthough, it is. As much as his lungs are burning, and his legs are aching. Even if some nine year old kid kicks him in the shins for taking his hiding spot. Even if Liam and Josh completely destroy them and Niall gives up, waving a makeshift white flag from a piece of his shirt that he'd ripped while trying to dive into a summersault (which resulted in the giant goose egg on his head).

"We need to do stuff like this all the time," Zayn says when they go to leave. "As often as we can. Whenever we have days off."

"Next time could we go to an arcade or something instead?" Niall bargains. "Something with a lot less endurance."

"Yeah, okay."

This time the car's waiting out front, and Liam once again wraps his arms around Zayn and easily gets him to the car without incident. He collapses in the backseat, exhausted, and Liam drags his fingers through his hair.

"Think one of them's dead in there and the other's eating his carcass?" Niall asks when they get back to the busses.

Zayn makes a face at him. "I hope not. That might make us accomplices in a murder trial, and I don't think that kind of press would be good for me."

"We should let them out," Liam says. "If they haven't worked it out by now, they probably never will."

It's the truth, as much as it sucks. So they do. The bus driver has to unlock the door, and then Zayn tentatively slides it open and calls, "Harry? Lou?"

He doesn't hear anything, at first, but then there's a giggle, and a groan, and Louis calls, "G-go away! We're trying tooh.Oh, f*ck, Harry."

"Love you, love you, love you," Harry chants breathlessly, voice audible over the sound of skin slapping against skin.

"f*ck, I love you too," Louis hisses. "You're sotight, f*ck, I—"

Zayn slowly backs out of the bus and shuts the door behind him. He turns, mouth agape, and shakes his head at the others. "Um." He licks his lips. "No one's dead, at least. I'm, uh, going to go pour a bottle of bleach in my ears and prays it disinfects that whole scene from my brain."

Niall's lips twist into a grimace. "They're f*cking on our tour bus, aren't they? We should have seen this coming."

—

The hotel room is, admittedly, huge. Liam had only specified a hot tub and a TV, so Zayn has requested the most expensive room in the hotel they were staying at. And expensive it is, but for good reason. It's got an entire separate bedroom, a living area with a couch, and the bathroom is the size of Liam's entire flat. There's a giant tub with jets and enough room for four people, comfortably, a shower, a long sink, a little private area for the toilet. There's a balcony, and large sliding doors that lead out onto it. The bed is a huge four-poster affair with a black silk comforter and red pillows. The entire back wall of the hotel room is made of floor to ceiling glass walls, draped in red silk curtains. And it's costing him about eight thousand bucks a night.

"Zayn," Liam says when they walk in, looking more than a little stunned.

"I know," Zayn admits. "It's more over the top than you were expecting, but." He shrugs.

The bellhop comes into the room with their bags and quickly asks if they need anything. Zayn says no, thank you, and tips him before shutting and locking the door behind him.

"It's too much," Liam decides, and he hasn't even explored the entire room yet. "Way too much. How much is this costing you?"

Zayn wraps his arms around Liam from behind, lips finding the nape of his neck. "Not nearly as much as I'd be willing to spend on you," Zayn murmurs against his skin. "This is nothing, Liam. And don't tell me I'm not allowed to throw my money around and spend it on you, because that's bullsh*t. I work hard for my money, and I should be able to spend it on whatever I want, orwhoeverI want. And I want to spend it on you. It makes mehappyto do that. So you should just accept it and move on."

Liam turns in his arms, head tipping onto Zayn's shoulder. "Thank you, then."

"Happy birthday, gorgeous," Zayn says into his hair. "Let's go explore this eight thousand dollar room. I'm expecting some chocolates on my pillows."

He starts moving towards the rest of the room, Liam's hand in his, but Liam is rooted to the spot. "What did you just say?"

"Um, chocolates?"

"Eight thousand—Zayn!"

Zayn groans. "It's one night, Liam! And you wouldn't let me fly you to Costa Rica, so I think this is a fairly good compromise."

"You're terrified of flying," Liam points out. "Why in the world would I let you do that?"

"I'm just saying," Zayn argues. "This is low-key compared to, like, renting us an entire island to spend the weekend alone together, right? So just — get over it and come check out the bed with me."

Liam glares but takes Zayn's hand, letting Zayn drag him through the room while he mutters, "Eight thousand f*cking — my entire rent for half a year in one night— damn it, Zayn," under his breath.

The bedroom is just as nice as promised. It's a large, spacious room with a fluffy white carpet, and the lights are dimmable, able to cast the room in a soft, warm glow. There's a fireplace, the giant bed, and the door to the ridiculous bathroom. "Hot tub," Zayn says while he pushes open the door to the bathroom. "Just like you asked."

"That's not a hot tub," Liam deadpans. "That's a warm swimming pool. In a bathroom."

Zayn kisses him, pushing Liam back towards the bed. "It's your birthday," he says. "One day. It'sone day, don't go all Bella Swan on me about this."

"Can't believe you read Twilight," Liam snickers, but he allows Zayn to guide him towards the bed anyways.

"I love you," Zayn says. "I love you more than almost anything and everything in the world. And it's one day, Liam. One day in this giant bed, in this giant room. One day where we can do whatever your heart desires. Hell, we can get naked and stay naked until the sun comes up. We can do whatever you want, but the only thing you'renotallowed to do is complain. Not a single complaint ever again for the rest of the night. Understood?"

"Can we really stay naked all night?" Liam asks as his legs hit the bed.

"Sure," Zayn agrees. "But I thought you wanted movies with the guys first."

"After that," Liam corrects. "A ban on clothing?" Zayn nods. "What if we order room service?"

"Then an employee's going to get quite the eyeful," Zayn chuckles as he pushes Liam down, straddling him easily. "Your birthday, you get whatever you want."

Liam gently pushes him away, and Zayn falls onto his back on the bed beside him. "Sorry," Liam offers, tilting his head to the side. "You said whatever I want, though, and I was promised cake, if I remember. But if you didn't get off me I'd enforce that clothing ban right now, and I really would like to watch movies with the others first."

Zayn sits up, leaning on his palms. "Yeah, good idea. Besides, I have plans."

"Plans?" Liam inquires.

"Not telling," Zayn says quickly. "So don't even do the pouty, puppy-eyed thing, Liam. It won't work."

An hour later and he uses one of Harry's endless, ridiculous headbands to cover Liam's eyes. Louis carries in the cake (which makes Zayn more than a little nervous) and places it on the wooden coffee table in their room, and Zayn uses his lighter to light each of the candles. There's exactly twenty-two candles stuck precariously over the cake, trying to hide the fact that it readsHappy Birthday Leon. "The bakery guy couldn't understand my accent, apparently," Louis explained with a shrug. "But hey, chocolate icing."

"Is the blindfolding necessary?" Liam asks.

"Yes," he and Louis snap. Harry hits the lights. "Okay, you can take it off."

They all sing happy birthday. Niall purposefully goes off key, and Zayn does his best to be quiet so he doesn't overpower everyone else. Liam laughs and blows out the candles, and Louis scoops up a handful of his cake and smears it in Liam's face, rubbing the remnants of icing on Harry's.

"Louis," Zayn says loudly. "What the f*ck?"

"Happy birthday, Liam?" Louis says sheepishly. He licks his fingers. "I pick out a damn good cake, in case any of you are wondering."

Harry carefully removes the cake from the table, bringing it to the tiny kitchen in the hotel, cutting up pieces while Zayn lays out a row of movies. "Your pick," he says to Liam. "I got all your favourites."

Liam's hand hovers over a DVD case and Louis groans, so he reaches for another one. Yet again, Louis makes a sound of annoyance, and this continues until Liam says, exasperated, "Would you like to pick, Lou?"

"No," Zayn interjects. "Liam's birthday, Liam's pick."

"I've already seen all the Iron Man movies, like, five times," Louis argues.

"Dark Skies?" Liam suggests. "I haven't seen it, and it's a horror movie, right?"

Zayn grabs it and shoves it in the DVD player before anyone can argue with that. Harry brings out cake on little paper plates, and Zayn settles in on Liam's left, with Louis on Liam's right.

It's too dysfunctional, all of them trying to watch a movie together. For one, Harry, Niall and Josh are stuck on the floor, though at least it wasn't Louis and none of them complained. Every time anyone but Harry opens their mouths, Louis hisses loudly, but he keeps up his own loud commentary of the movie. They pause it about nine times because there's alwayssomereason for someone getting up. Niall has to use the bathroom, Harry needs a drink, Louis wants more cake, nowHarryneeds the bathroom and Liam wants more cake and Louis needs a napkin because he splits his drink all over his lap. They explain the plot to Niall about four different times, and each time he looks just as confused as he had before they'd explained. And—

It's really nice, all in all. Liam leaning against his side, Niall sitting against his legs. The fact that Harry and Louis aren't arguing and have apparently come to an agreement though neither of them are telling anyone if they're dating because they're still a little butt hurt about the whole locking them in the tour bus thing. And while Zayn has absolutely no f*cking idea how the movie ends, he doesn't mind it one bit.

"Another one?" Louis asks when it's over.

Zayn stands up, untangling Liam's arms from around him. "No," he says pointedly. "We have other plans."

Harry winks at him before helping him shoo the others out of the room. They leave paper plates and food smeared on the table and empty co*ke cans behind them, but Zayn doesn't mind. He won't be the one cleaning it up.

"Do you want dinner?" Zayn asks Liam. "Or do you want to move on to my next part of the plan and have dinner later?"

Liam yawns and stretches, shirt hiking up above his stomach. Zayn's eyes drop to it, following the trail of hair there, and he prays Liam picks the second option. "Next part of the plan?" he asks.

"Right." Zayn nods and offers Liam a hand off the couch, which Liam takes, but he pushes himself up without any help from Zayn, so really Zayn's only holding his hand while Liam gets up. "You need to wait in the bedroom for, like, two minutes."

"What are you going to do?" Liam asks suspiciously.

"Make a phonecall," Zayn says. "And set up the bath."

He guides Liam into the room, and Liam yawns before stretching out on the bed. "You do that, then. I'm just going to relax."

Zayn leaves Liam behind, heading for the bathroom. The tub is a little harder to work than he thought, but he figures it out after a minute or two, and the tub starts filling. He pulls out his phone, calls down to the front desk, and tells them to wait about ten minutes before coming to the room, that way he can be sure that he and Liam are securely locked in the bathroom while they do the rest.

When the tub is filled, he figures out how to put on the jets, finds another dimmer switch, lowers the lights, and he calls Liam into the bathroom as he strips out of his own clothes. He's toeing off his socks when Liam comes in, and he forces himself not to care that he's full exposed with the lights semi-on, because this isLiam. If he can't be comfortable being naked around Liam, there's a problem there. And there's not.

"Is this my present?" Liam asks, slowly making his way towards Zayn. "You naked? Because I like this gift."

"This is all technically your gift," Zayn admits. He tried to think of something tangible to buy Liam, an actual present that he could keep for years or something, but he couldn't think of anything. "Like, the whole day. It's one giant present."

Liam ducks his head to kiss Zayn's shoulder, a hand reaching around to grope at Zayn's ass. "Best present ever, then."

Zayn laughs and pushes him away. "You need to get undressed if you want to get in the tub."

Liam's hands stay firmly around Zayn's waist. "The tub can wait," he murmurs, leaning in again. "Would rather get that other thing I asked for."

Zayn's dick swells at that, and he's sure Liam can feel it against his hip, but he ignores it. "Not part of the plan," Zayn says. "Gotta stick to the schedule."

Liam pulls back, looking mildly amused. "Schedule?" Outside the bathroom door, he hears the sound of someone moving into the bedroom. Liam stiffens, eyes widening. "Did you hear that?"

"All part of the plan," Zayn says soothingly. He pushes Liam's shirt up. "Undress, babe, come on."

Liam slots their lips together first, the kiss brief and soft and affectionate. When he pulls back he tugs his shirt off in one swift move, and Zayn helps him with his belt, and then the button on his jeans, and he's really not all that surprised when he finds Liam half-hard already under his boxers when he slides them down Liam's legs.

"Tub," Zayn orders, before he can get caught up in Liam's body and forget about the plans he'd made. There's a thump outside the door. "And ignore that."

"If it's my birthday," Liam teases as he tests the water, slipping in just his foot, "why am I getting bossed around?"

Zayn reaches for the bottle of massage oil he'd brought with him. "Because," he says. "That's why."

Liam snorts but settles into the water, and Zayn places the massage oil on the side of the tub before joining him. One of the jets is directly behind his back, the water is perfectly warm, and it feels so relaxing that he can't help but forget the plan for one minute to just tilt his head back, close his eyes, and let his body relax.

Before he knows it, Liam's moving in behind him, and he's rubbing at Zayn's shoulders with slick, oil covered fingers. It feels so f*cking good, the way he kneads the muscles just enough that it's on the verge of pain, massaging out the knots expertly, like he was trained to do this.

"Wait, wait," Zayn splashes the water, eyes popping open. "I'm supposed to be givingyouthe massage. Liam—"

"Shh," Liam coaxes. "My birthday, you said I could do whatever you want." He digs into a particularly good spot on Zayn's back, and Zayn can't help but groan. "What I want is to give you a massage."

"Just for a minute," Zayn bargains with both himself and Liam. He lets his eyes close again, sinks a little lower in the water, comforted by Liam's hands on his back and his thighs on either side of Zayn's body.

Liam's hands slide over all of Zayn's skin that's above the warm water. Over his back, his chest, his shoulders. He kisses Zayn's neck, careful to avoid spots with oil, and whispers, "You're so f*cking — I just want to kiss every inch of your skin."

"Do it," Zayn urges. "No one's stopping you."

Liam laughs and smoothes oil slicked palms over Zayn's nipples. "Can't while we're in the bath, now can I?"

Zayn shifts, pressing up against Liam as best as he can. "Trade me spots," he says. "Your turn."

Liam reluctantly agrees, and Zayn figures they're going to need a shower after the bath because the oil is in the water now, and it sticks to parts of his skin that Liam hadn't even touched, making him feel almost grossly greasy, but it smells like lilac so he's not complaining.

There's a bit of splashing as they trade spots, and Liam nearly slips, Zayn somehow stubs his toe, and they're both laughing by the time Zayn settles in behind Liam. Outside the bathroom, the hotel employees are probably wondering what the hell is going on in here. Zayn couldn't care less.

He dumps a bit of oil into his palm, slicks up his hands, and tries to do for Liam what Liam had done for him. He figures he's sh*t at it, but Liam's groaning and tipping his head back, making these obscene noises every one in a while.

"Louder," Liam urges, and Zayn realizes he was humming under his breath.

"Demanding," he comments, but he obliges, raising his voice just a little, singing the lines of a song that he's going to be working on in the studio in a couple days. He likes it, likes the sound and the soulful feel to it. Likes that it feels like Liam's name on his lips every time he sings it because, while not all the songs are about him, this song is definitely about Liam.

His hands move to Liam's chest instead, and he moves them slowly down, over his ribs, past the water until he's scratching his nails against Liam's naval. Liam purposefully shifts against him, grinding back as much as he can, and Zayn drops a kiss to his shoulder. "Soon," he promises. "Should be done any minute."

And he's right. There's two single, sharp knocks on the door that make Liam jump, but Zayn only sooths his hands down Liam's back again, urging him to relax once more. "We can get out now," he says. "Whenever you want."

"Kind of afraid to," Liam admits. "What were people doing in the room?"

Zayn grins. He shrugs, hoping Liam can tell that's what he did from the movement, since he knows Liam can't see it. "Told you I was going to do the whole romantic thing. Go all out."

"You didn't."

"I really did." Liam flicks water in his face. Zayn winces but laughs, shoving at Liam's shoulders. "I warned you. You knew it was coming."

"I didn't think you were serious," Liam grumbles. He moves, slowly climbing out of the tub. "But now I'm curious."

Liam hands him a towel when he gets out, and he dries off before grabbing one of the bath robes. He grabs the makeshift blindfold again, and Liam groans but allows him to put it on him. "I just want to make sure it's right before you see it," Zayn explains. "I'll take it off right away." He pauses. "Unless you'd like to keep it on."

"Tempting," Liam chuckles. "Rain check?"

"Sure." He pushes open the door.

The lights are off. There's candles set up all around the room, and the fireplace is turned on, flickering light illuminating the space. There's honest to god rose petals on the floor, leading in a path from the bathroom to the bed, where more are scattered around. There's a bottle of win in a bucket of ice on a table at the end of the bed, as well as a box of chocolates (and a single pack of Reese's, just because), and more flowers. It is, in essence, every cheesy hotel bedroom from all those ridiculously planned first time scenes in movies and TV shows. It's horrible and perfect, all at once.

"Okay," Zayn says, hands on Liam's waist. He tugs off the blindfold. "There you go."

Liam laughs. He laughs for a long, long time, until he finally catches his breath and drags Zayn to the bed. Without any warning, Liam pushes him down and crawls on top of him, still giggling, like he can't help it. "You're crazy," he says. "Absolutely— f*cking crazy. God, Zayn, really? With the roses and the chocolates and thecandles?"

Zayn grins, tilting his head while Liam nuzzles his neck, stubble burning there in the best way. "You don't like it?"

"I love you," Liam says instead of answering that. "You're ridiculous and cheesy and you're such adorkbut the world seems to think you're this mysterious, sophisticated person and — I love that. I love you. I love that I get this side of you and I love that there's a f*cking pack of peanut butter cups on that stupid table with the roses and the wine that probably costs more than the car I had in college. I'm so in love with you it's stupid."

"Stupid?" Zayn repeats.

"In a good way," he corrects. "Stupid in the best way."

For once he lets himself be the one laid on, instead of the other way around, and Liam's the one leaning in to capture his lips. It's soft, at first, the kiss. Not exactly hesitant, but slow, like they have all the time in the world and neither of them need to rush just yet. He finds the belt of Liam's bathrobe and tugs at it until the knot comes undone, and he slowly pushes it off Liam's shoulders until Liam sits up and shrugs I the rest of the way off.

"Yours, too," Liam says. "That thing looks ridiculous on you."

Zayn laughs and takes off his bathrobe, too, throwing it somewhere on the ground. The blanket is soft and silky under him, and he can actually feel the damn rose petals on his skin as Liam settles back on top of him, pressing him into the bed. Zayn parts his lips before Liam's meet his, and it isn't long until his tongue is pushing into Liam's mouth, and Liam's fighting him on it, groaning and trying to dominate the kiss.

So Zayn lets him, body going slack under Liam. Liam makes a pleased sound and kisses him with fervour, grinding his hips down. "This bed is bigger than my bedroom," Liam groans, lips sliding from Zayn's.

Zayn laughs. "Really? That's what you're thinking about? The fact that this bed is bigger than your room?"

"No," Liam denies. He grabs Zayn's arms and flips them over so he's on the bottom, Zayn almost falling off him until Liam steadies him. "I'm thinking about getting a bed this big for my room. You know, an entire bedroom that's just a bed. I could see the perks of that. We could just roll around having sex in any—"

Zayn kisses him to shut him up. He rolls his hips down, the friction between their bodies sending a wave of heat through him. Actually the whole room is hot, from the fire or the steam of the bath or maybe it's just the way Liam touches him, but his skin is slick with sweat where it slides against Liam's. For some reason that only spurs him on, has him moving his hips with more abandon, rutting against Liam as he bites at Liam's shoulder.

"Zayn," Liam breathes. He scratches at Zayn's back, blunt nails scraping sharply against his skin. "Can we—? Like we talked about?"

"Yeah, of course," Zayn says quickly, stumbling over the words. "Of course."

Liam's hands slide over his back, and he grins up at Zayn, all lopsided, head tilted. "Someone's a bit anxious."

Zayn ignores him, backing down Liam's body. "I've got — Just give me a second," he explains and he hops off he bed. This time he doesn't worry about being naked for completely different reasons. He's too busy fumbling with the drawer to the table beside the bed, hands shaking.

He jumps when Liam's hands touch his skin. He turns, eyes narrowed, and nearly shoves Liam back onto the bed, but Liam presses whispering kisses to his spine and he can't think enough to do anything but arch back into him. Liam leans over, his hands firm and steady as he grabs the box of condoms out of the drawer. He rips it open, tears one out, and grabs the bottle of lube before using his knee to shut the drawer.

Zayn lets Liam pull him back to the bed, and he's about to crawl back up Liam's body before he remembers. "One more thing," he says quickly, holding up a single finger. "One more thing."

Liam smothers a laugh with his palm, nodding silently as Zayn moves towards the curtain covered window. The curtains are thick and heavy, but he manages to push them open as much as he can, and Liam makes a soft sound from the bed.

They're on a high floor, and there aren't any tall buildings near them. Below, he can see the streets and the lights from the rest of the city. Above, the sun is setting in the sky and the starts are feebly shinning through the navy sky. It's breathtaking, it really is.

Zayn returns to the bed, and this time there's no question about where this is going. It's like now that they've agreed on that, they can't wait. Zayn ruts against Liam again until Liam palms at his ass, and then he's whispering, "Come on, babe. Move it along. Want you."

Instead of doing what Zayn asks, Liam makes a keening sound, hands reaching around for the lube that he'd left somewhere on the bed. He finds it and presses it into Zayn's hand. "Next time," he says, looking hesitantly up at Zayn. "Want to see if you're as good in reality as you are in my dreams."

"Who's the cheesy one now?" Zayn teases, but he scoots down Liam's body.

Liam's legs part around him, and Zayn's been here before, kissing the insides of Liam's thighs until he's writhing and whining, but normally there's a much different goal in mind. Now, he follows that same path, until the insides of Liam's thighs are dotted with pink marks from where he'd nipped or sucked at the skin. He wraps a hand around Liam's prick, bringing it to his lips, and he revels in the way Liam looks down at him like he's giving himself over to Zayn and he completely trusts Zayn to take care of him.

It's not filthy, or hurried. Zayn lets his eyes fall closed and slides his mouth up and down Liam's length, lazily blowing him as his fingers trace circles against the insides of his thighs, first, and then his ass cheeks, and then he's sliding a finger over Liam's hole and holding Liam down to stop him from bucking up into Zayn's mouth.

"My birthday," Liam gasps out. "No teasing."

"Okay, babe," Zayn relents. He locates that bottle of lube again, letting Liam's co*ck fall back against his stomach, leaving a smear of spit and precome there.

There are awkward moments, sure there are, like when Zayn nearly spills the entire bottle of lube on the bed, or when Zayn slowly pushes that first finger inside of him, crooking it, searching for that spot, and Liam knees him in the side of the head when he squeezes his legs closed. But the moon is in the sky now, silver light battling with the orange glow of the fire, illuminating patches of Liam's sweat slicked skin. He looks like art, Zayn thinks. Zayn would draw him if he trusted himself to be able to replicate that kind of beauty, but he thinks that only the most talented of hands could ever come close to capturing the way Liam looks right now.

Zayn's got two fingers steadily moving in and out of him, stretching him wider as he goes, and Liam's propped up on his elbows with his legs spread wide, chest heaving, head tilted back with his eyes clamped shut. His legs shake on either side of Zayn every time he brushes against Liam's prostate, and the tiny, helpless sounds Liam's letting out aren't helping the throbbing between Zayn's own legs.

Liam pushes down against his fingers and,f*ck, Zayn can't handle that. The way Liam's groaning like he can't get enough, impatiently f*cking himself on Zayn's fingers when Zayn's too gently, too slow, to careful. He pushes a third finger into Liam, meeting barely any resistance, and he gets lost in the feel of Liam's leg brushing against his arm and the tightness around his fingers, in the smell of oil from the bath and that distinct sharp smell ofman, and the music playing softly in the background from the radio on the dresser, something romantic with no words, just instruments creating a melody with Liam's sighs and moans.

Liam impatiently tugs at his arm, and just this once Zayn gives in immediately instead of drawing things out. He's in just as much of a hurry as Liam, and it is Liam's birthday, after all.

Once again Zayn's hands are shaking too much as he tries to rip open the condom. He lets out a self deprecating laugh, but Liam easily plucks the wrapper from his hand and opens it, sliding the condom onto Zayn's co*ck. It's the first time he's had more than the silk comforter touching him in a while, and he bites down on his lip to stop from making an embarrassed sound. Until Liam leans up and grabs the back of his head, pulling their foreheads together.

"Don't do that," he orders. "It's not supposed to be perfect. It's supposed to be fumbled and messy and loud and awkward and perfect. Don't hold back on me because you're embarrassed. Nothing to be embarrassed about, Zayn."

"I love you," Zayn says, trying to find Liam's lips with his own. He hates that it sounds like he's throwing those words around, saying them so often instead of saving them for when it matters most, but he can't help it. Not when he deeply means it every time those words stumble out of his mouth.

Liam chuckles. "Exactly."

One of Liam's hands tangle in his hair while Zayn lines himself up Liam's entrance, and his other is trapped above his head, fingers locked with Zayn's, Zayn leaning heavily on it to hold himself up. Liam winces and bites his lips when Zayn pushes in, grip tightening in his hair. Zayn stops thinking about how perfect Liam feels around him, warm and tight, and instead focuses on peppering Liam's cheeks and neck and lips with kisses until Liam relaxes under him, body going from taught and stiff to loose and slack.

There's no finesse to it. It's not like with everyone else Zayn's been with, where he feels like he's trying to prove a point. There are moments where he grips Liam's legs tightly and pushes them almost to his chest, f*cking relentlessly into him as Liam claws at his back and the sheets. There are moments where things slow down to a simmer, where his skin burns against Liam's and every breath he takes is from Liam's lips as his damp hair falls across Liam's forehead. There's this one moment, where Liam's body arches off the bed and his moan rings off the walls and the moonlight hits his face just right, and Zayn looses himself in it.

He comes first, teeth sinking into Liam's collarbone,I love youandLiamstuck in his throat as his breath hitches. It crashes over him, his org*sm. It's not a wave of heat and pleasure and release; he's being dragged under, vision darkening, lost in it for what feels like forever. When he comes back to himself, he pulls out carefully, and this time he's the one who winces in sympathy as he moves down Liam's body, taking his co*ck into his mouth once again. He pushes two fingers into Liam until he's squirming, crying out, bucking up into Zayn's mouth and coming down his throat.

Zayn only has enough energy to cross the room, throw out the condom and collapse on the bed next to Liam. Liam, who's still panting, staring up at the ceiling like he's incapable of doing anything else for a while.

"Do you think it's like this for everyone?" Liam wonders out loud. He tilts his head towards Zayn. "Is i supposed to be this easy? This perfect? Are two people supposed to fit this well, or is it all in my head?"

Zayn finds his hand. It's his favourite thing, holding Liam's hand. "It's not like this for everyone," Zayn says. "And it's not all in your head."

Liam props himself up, but he keeps his hand in Zayn's. "Where's your phone?"

"In my jeans, in the bathroom," Zayn answers. "Why?"

Liam brings their joined hands to his lips. "Be right back. Don't you dare move."

Zayn raises his eyebrows. "Couldn't even if I wanted to. Seriously, a raging murderer could come in here and I'd let him cut me into pieces."

"And I'd have to protect you," Liam jokes as he gets out of bed. His legs are a bit unsteady, and Zayn smirks at that, thinkingI did that. That's because of me.

Liam comes back with Zayn's phone. He's swiping at the screen, pressing things, and Zayn watches him curiously. He perches on the bed, still using the phone, and then he reaches for Zayn's hand again. He twines their fingers and takes a quick picture. The flash lights their hands up, illuminating the slight contrast in skin tones, the difference between Liam's thick fingers and Zayn's thinner, bonier ones.

"What are you doing?" Zayn asks.

Liam grins. "You told me I needed a new twitter icon."

—

Five Months Later

"There's no room for it," Zayn groans. "Liam, seriously, it's the ugliest, possiblyoldestsofa in existence."

Liam drops his end of the couch and puts his hands on his hips. Liam's little flat looks so empty without the personal touches, most of which are housed in boxes that are taking up Zayn's living room back home. All that's left, really, is this stupid sofa. They'd donated Liam's bed and dresser, since he wasn't going to need it, and Liam didn't have much more furniture than that. Nothing more would really fit in this damn shoebox.

"Compromise," Liam says. "I'm moving into your ridiculous apartment, I should get to keep my sh*tty sofa."

"So you're admitting it's sh*tty." Zayn smirks. "Come on, Liam, it's a health hazard. I got stuck the last time I sat on it."

Liam pouts. "Zayn, please."

Zayn bites the inside of his lip and rolls his eyes. "Fine.Fine. But it's going in the guest bedroom."

Liam smiles like sunshine. "Thank you. Now pick up your end and help me with this."

"Don't see why we couldn't hire movers," he grumbles, for what feels like the fifteenth time.

And, once again for the fifteenth time, Liam says, "Because it's barely any stuff, and we're both completely capable of moving it."

Which is true, until they get to the door. The sofa doesn't fit, so they try turning it. It nearly falls on Liam's foot, Zayn gets hit in the shins, and they can't get it out of the apartment. "It's not going to fit," Zayn says loudly, struggling to keep his grip on the thing.

"I got it in here somehow," Liam says. "Try turning it a fraction to the — nope, that won't work. Huh."

"Liam," Zayn whines. "It'sheavy."

"Maybe I should call Lou and ask him to come help," Liam suggests.

Zayn groans and puts down his half of the sofa. It creates a wall between him and Liam, trapping him in the hallway and Liam in the flat. "He and Harry conveniently have a date tonight," Zayn says. "I already tried to get them to come help."

"Oh." Liam's quiet for a moment. "Niall and Josh?"

"Visiting family."

"Right." Liam sighs. "Okay, one more try."

Zayn makes an annoyed sound but he lifts his end of the couch. It's not just one more try. It's six, and somehow they finally get the stupid thing into the hallway, where it nearly collapses on Zayn and kills him. Getting it down the stairs is even harder, and Zayn's a sweaty, panting mess by the time they load it into the back of the truck they'd rented to do this.

Of course, that's not the end of it. They still have to get it to Zayn's building, and it takes the help of the doorman to get it in the elevator, and then once again they struggle to get it in the door. Once the thing is finally in the guest bedroom, Zayn glares at it and heads forhissofa, where he collapses in a heap. Unlike Liam, who's busying himself with unpacking.

"Liam," Zayn calls. "Take a break. That'll still be there in an hour."

"In a minute," Liam shouts back. "I'm just putting my clothes away so they don't get wrinkled. You said I could have the last two drawers, right?"

Zayn goes to say no, he said Liam could have the middle two. And then he remembers, and his eyes widen as he jumps off the sofa. His sock clad feet slip on the hardwood, and he nearly slides into a wall in his rush to get to his room, but it's too late.

Liam's standing there, bottom drawer wide open, clutching a box in his hand. He gapes down at it, slowly lifting his gaze to Zayn's. "What's this?" he asks softly.

Zayn's stomach churns. Liam wasn't supposed to find that. It was stuffed in that drawer for areason. He wanted to wait until the right moment. For the perfect timing. And of course he doesn't get that, because it's not hard enough, asking Liam this.

Slowly, Zayn makes his way across the room. He takes the box from Liam's hands with shaking fingers, and he takes a steadying breath before sinking to one knee. "This isn't how this was supposed to go," Zayn admits. He rubs the back of his neck. "Um. f*ck, it's stupid how I'm good with words when it doesn't matter, how I can write songs about things and how I feel and sh*t, but when I try to say them to you they never come out right. But. f*ck, okay. Liam, look, you're — no, that isn't—"

"Just get it out," Liam whispers. "Just say it, Zayn."

"Right." Zayn winces. "You're just — you're everything, you know? I want every minute with you. Every minute of the rest of my life with you. You've crawled your way into my heart, filling up all these empty spaces in it that I didn't realize were there. You've lit up my whole world, and I could dream of a million different lives for myself, but you'd be beside me in each one. I wasn't always sure if true love was something that really existed, but this — this couldn't be anythingbutthat. Andf*ck I'm twenty-four years old, Liam. There's no way I should know what I want for the rest of my life, but I do. It's you. It's always going to be you. I can't imagine myself ever wanting anyone else. So just— Marry me, Liam Payne. f*cking marry me, okay?"