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Zayn could feel his hair whip almost violently around his forehead - from the fairly harsh winds blowing across the balcony. He didn’t mind the dishevelment, though - when he had nobody around that he felt it important to pull himself together for or at least make a decent first impression on. Raising his forearm off the black railing, he lifted his index and middle finger up towards his mouth and delicately wrapped his lips around the fag clutched comfortably in between them. Breathing in deep, he took another drag - savoring the burn sliding down his throat.
This was the best way to avoid him, which Zayn considered quite frustrating. That walking out onto the balcony of his shared hotel room with Niall to have a quick fix of nicotine, was his best way to avoid Harry. The hotel room Harry had a key to - just like the rest of them had a key to the rest of the rooms, and if they didn’t - could simply beg Paul for, or knock obnoxiously until somebody let them in.
Zayn exhaled smoothly, trailing the smoke with his eyes as it glided out into the night air. "Ya cunt, yer a fuck’n cheater and ya know it!" He heard Niall shout at Josh through the glass sliding door. Followed by a slightly evil laugh of triumph.
He couldn’t help smiling to himself for his friend, while looking over the edge of the railing six stories up, to the concrete below.
They all looked like ants - the fans standing around at the front of the hotel, risking their reddening ears and freezing toes to the rapidly chilling night. More than likely not properly dressed for the weather in an attempt to look cute. When in reality, all of the boys would prefer them be safe and warm (it wasn’t even a cold season, it was summer, but the Chicago nights recently hadn’t been all that great - at least according to the weather channel Zayn had absentmindedly clicked on upon arriving at their hotel), over looking attractive for them. "Is Zayn on the balcony or in the bathroom?" Harry’s muffled voice pushed faintly through the glass. "He’s hav’n a fag out on da porch. Hell, yeah! Suck on dat Joshy!"
‘Ah, fuck,’ Zayn internally cursed trying to enjoy his last few moments of silence, peace, and free will. ‘Leave me the fuck alone, will ya?’ He settled further into his stance, hoping to show some sort-of defiance and emotional endurance - as he heard the sssussh of the door sliding out and back into place. He could feel the railing pushing roughly into the skin on the base of his arms, surely leaving an indentation that might take a few minutes for the blood to rush back to.
Harry chuckled under his breath as Zayn tried in vain to put him off. He paused just outside the door, bare feet planted firmly on the cold outdoor tile, watching lazily as Zayn rolled what was left of his cigarette back and forth through his slender fingers. “Why aren’t you dressed?" he asked, a hint of a loving (yet vaguely irritated) smile evident in his voice.
"Haz, I really don’t know why you’re even bothering," he took another drag. Harry watched him suck the foul filth into his mouth, and the way his cheeks hollowed out to get as much as he could in one long suck. A gross, yet intriguing habit that Harry wished his friend would work a bit harder to quit - and yet not, because then he’d have to admit to himself that he could no longer watch the action discreetly out of the corner of his eyes. Waiting patiently, the sound of automated cheers filled the room behind them, followed by hearty real-life cheers that could only be produced from Niall, himself. “I told you I didn’t want to," he was exhaling calmly. Practiced.
Harry grinned and walked closer to the older boy. Flinging his arms next to Zayn’s, he glanced over the edge to see if the crowed had thinned out. Only to find that the numbers had grown significantly since they were last down after a dinner out. “Get dressed Zayn. Or rather… get undressed."
A few eyebrow waggles had a small smile edging it’s way onto Zayn’s face, but Harry wasn’t a moron. He knew that a few good charms would do little to put Zayn at ease - which bothered him more than he cared to admit. That Zayn was the only member of their band (almost the only member of society) that Harry couldn’t sway with a few sweet looks - all the way back to X-Factor.
Liam was strong and stubborn in his determination to win - to the point where they weren’t sure if he was comfortable with being placed in their care. But, Harry could smile at him and push his buttons, almost forcing him to get comfortable fast. Niall was similar, but he was also so easy going that Harry barely even had to try. Louis was easy - smiling widely back and cracking an inappropriate joke that had them checking over their shoulders to see if one of the cameras had caught them. They had settled into themselves shockingly easily - to the point where the fans had lost track of what was reality and what wasn’t. Louis could get Harry to do almost anything he wanted just by the way he asked, but (despite the fact that most outside of their close team never saw it) Harry could do the exact same with one dimple.
Zayn had always saw right through it, though. Found it amusing. “Those looks won’t change my mind. And you don’t have to make everything sound so dirty," he teased Harry, who had taken to looking innocent and confused at such a scandalous accusation. “I am serious, though….. I’m not going down with you."
The wind picked up slightly, signaling a few surprised squeals from the concrete below. Harry gave an involuntary shiver as the chill swept across his naked chest, and it made him all the more eager to get started. “I really like Chicago, it’s always nice here…. good pizza….." He focused in on Zayn bringing the butt to his mouth one last time, sucking out everything he could, before rubbing the ashen tip gracefully across the bar - grey and red specks glowing against the blackened surface - and dropping it to the ground. “If you don’t get dressed Zee, I will literally drag you off of this damn balcony and get you changed myself."
Zayn turned a couple of degrees away from Harry’s intense gaze and tipped his neck back to see the sky more clearly. The few stars he could see through the city lights were pretty (not that he’d go spewing on about it), but faded - even more so once he puckered his lips and emptied the smoke from his lungs. Harry let his gaze trail down the vein protruding on the side of Zayn’s neck (reminding himself that poking his tongue out and running it carefully along his own bottom lip was not something he should do in front of his friend) and then follow the smoke upwards. “Well alright then," Zayn groaned - his voice hoarse from the burn (a satisfying burn he was finding near impossible to give up). "When I die, it is your fault.. I hope you know that," he groaned before pushing his way back inside and heading towards his suitcase.
Harry simply followed behind, “I’m well aware."
~~~
"Like, the sign says closed after eleven p.m…… Do you not see that? It’s midnight, ya know? And we have promo tomorrow.."
Harry ignored the mumbling behind him and continued to sort himself out - turning his key card the proper way, and sliding it swiftly into the slot. When the light flashed green, he quickly pushed the handle down and shoved the door open - the smell of chlorine immediately washing over their skin. Harry turned back and shot a wicked smirk in Zayn’s direction - only to receive a nasty grimace in return. “Oh come on," he smiled - dimples on full display.
His large hand swept out without warning and gripped Zayn’s hand, tugging him forward and pushing him ahead of himself.
Zayn shuffled forward as unwillingly as possible as Harry pushed him along. His feet slid dangerously, although Harry apparently disagreed, across wet puddles left behind by playing children (he assumed) or whoever was hired to clean (also possible). The splotches of water were cold - in the way only a left behind puddle could be could. The sludge felt nasty across the bottom of his feet and he just wanted to go back up to his room and pass out - Niall and Josh present or not.
Suddenly Harry paused and threw his towel (as well as Zayn’s, which he had to forcefully tug away) onto the nearest lounger and happily hopped into the water.
Warm water sloshed over the sides of the pool, threatening Zayn’s personal space. He backed away further from the pool, where Harry was standing lulling his arms back and forth creating waves, to observe his surroundings.
They weren’t supposed to be there.
The main overhead lights had been shut off an hour previous, and only a few soft light’s sporadically lit the walls and the water was glowing white with the underwater lamps. ‘Or whatever the fuck they’re called.’ It was a heated pool. Which as far as Zayn was concerned was the only positive to Harry’s madness. He could see the steam rising up - not overwhelming, but there. Warning signs helpfully graced the walls, encouraging guests of the hotel of everything that could go wrong. “‘Do not swim without a life guard present’," he read out. “‘Do not swim without a life guard present. Do not.’ Broken that rule haven’t you."
The laugh he got in response did nothing to ease his apprehension. “Life guards are never present at hotel pools. That’s a shit rule."
Zayn stood awkwardly on the side, his ankles crossed in an off kilter stance - clearly uncomfortable. Harry watched as he tried, to no avail, to cover his shivering body with crossed arms. ’Luminescent.’ That was the only way he could think to describe the way Zayn’s normally darker skin shone, florescent, against the light reflecting off the pool. His tattoos stood out more prominently than on a normal occasion. And - despite his continuous pains to halt his gaze - Harry found his eyes (not for the first time) focused intently on the heart resting right over his hip bone and thinking about all of the things he wanted to do with it.
This was his reality and he really needed to pull himself together.
Kicking his feet out, Harry swam further away from the shaking body (more so from the cold of standing in nothing but his trunks than fear, he reckoned) and closer towards the opposite edge of the pool. “You are aware this area is three feet of water, right? And that there’s no possible way even you can drown here?" A quick (uncontrollable - he didn’t mean to, really) breath of air burst through him in a small laugh and a large smile slapped over his face when he received a specific finger. "Get in! Would you please just get in the water?"
In all honesty, Zayn still couldn’t believe he was allowing Harry to push him around like he was. Although, Zayn wasn’t an idiot either. He knew the youngest member of One Direction was trying to help him when push came to shove. Their tour dates flipped flopped all over the world - their next stop being Detroit, then to Florida (so on and so forth). It was going to be tiring. He knew before even arriving in warmer climates what everybody would want to do on their days off. Hell, the Australian leg of the tour was coming up and it was a pretty unspoken rule at that point that they’d head out on the Harbor again.
Three feet was no sweat, but adding far depths and wildlife seemed to be to much for the lad….. He just wanted to make sure that Zayn could swim with them, if he wanted to. Harry hadn’t liked seeing the look on Zayn’s face the first time they went, and he didn’t like Zayn looking left out any of the other times that everyone had gone swimming in deeper waters in various parts of the world.
Harry knew it went deeper than swimming, though. It was just another thing they could do that he couldn’t. Another reminder. Not that there were as many of those circumstances as Zayn, himself, seemed to think there were. But, Harry was pretty sure it went all the way back to X-Factor days, when all the others had bonded before Zayn had even managed to arrive - already found their places within the group. When he got there, all of them already seemed so close, and Zayn couldn’t figure a way to inject himself into the equation.
Swimming reminded him that there were things they could go on without him. He didn’t like it.
‘And the fact that my lungs could fill with water and I’d definitely sink like a rock.’
Shaking away the thoughts from his mind, Zayn sat precariously onto the edge of the pool, and cautiously lowered himself down. He let the water wash over him, goose bumps rising from the sudden change in body temperature. Letting out a huff of breath, he glanced over to the other side where Harry was running his toes along the tiled ground. “Well alright then, I’m in the fucking pool."
Clutching carefully against the wall, Zayn took a few deep breaths in an attempt to calm himself down.
"I don’t know why you’re being so pessimistic," Harry hummed almost to himself. “Here I came up with this great idea, and yet you groan about it."
"But it’s not a great idea, Haz. It’s the exact opposite. It’s actually an awful idea."
Pushing off of the wall, Harry made his way back over to Zayn. “It’s actually not," stopping just before him, Harry reached forward and pried Zayn’s fingers off the wall. “Let’s start by getting our hair wet, so that if things go awry - which I’m not saying they will - you won’t freak out on me."
When the former didn’t move, Harry pushed out a bit and submerged underneath for a little while, eventually spiraling out of the water - hair flinging about. Zayn follow suit. Plugging his nose and squeezing his eyes shut, he let himself sink under. The water wrapping around his head, and feeling his quiff (which had started to fall during the days activities - worn) begin to waft around with the soft flow of the water.
It was silent under the water - a welcome change to the hectic-ness of his life. But he wasn’t a strong swimmer, obviously, and sooner rather than later found the small breath he had taken in preparation begin to fall from his lungs - and stood back up. “We’ll start here, of course. Because, you know, three feet," Harry laughed.
"You don’t have to make fun of me."
"Yes I do. Part of the charm." A wave of water struck him harshly in the face, but Harry just grinned through it. “The first bit we need to do is float. It’s really easy - promise." Letting go of his own body, Harry let his feet rise up off the tile. He leaned back carefully, keeping his eyes on Zayn, and rose his arms out to skim the top of the water. His legs continued up slowly, eventually joining his arms at the very top of the water. “You just let go, really," he instructed despite the fact the Zayn appeared he’d rather be in bed. “Kick your feet up slowly and don’t panic. The water will take care of the rest."
Settling himself down once again, he swam closer, arms stretched out. “And I’ll be right here."
"Alright. Alright," Zayn grumbled and prepared himself to mimic Harry’s actions. Awkwardly leaning backwards, he flailed his arms out to his side - water splashing angrily.
Harry reached out to slow his action, a look of concern and amusement plastered on his face, “You have to calm down." Wading around to the back of Zayn’s head, Harry rested his palms under his forearms and gingerly brought them to the surface. He watched Zayn pull his lips into a small circle, breathing in and out. His chest rose and fell rapidly at first, gradually mellowing out. “Legs next. Kick up and let go."
Squeezing his eyes tightly shut, Zayn did as he was told.
The action wasn’t nearly as smooth and perfect as Harry’s demonstration but he was trying and that was what was important. His legs shot out about in small spasms of concern and the pool water sloshed dangerously over the curve of his chest. “Stop kicking," Harry commented as water attempted to make it’s way into Zayn’s nose - and the panic that was sure to arise if that happened wasn’t something Harry wanted to deal with.
The goal wasn’t to traumatize him further.
After a brief internal argument with himself, Harry waded to Zayn’s side and decidedly ran the palms of his hands (quickly) down the length of his legs, gripping his ankles firmly. "Stop kicking….. It won’t help."
The words were muddled to Zayn’s ears, which took residence a couple of inches under water - downing Harry’s naturally deep voice to an even lower octave. “It will help me live," he heard himself spitting in return.
"It will help you drown," came his reply - and he could swear there was still an edge of humor in it, before it softened slightly. “That’s the opposite of what I want to happen, Zee."
He risked cracking one of his eyes open, to see Harry’s eyebrows wound tightly together - eyes focused abnormally intensely at where his fingers wrapped around his ankles - thumb briskly sweeping over the skin once, before stilling suddenly. “Okay, I’m going to let go now," he informed so quietly, Zayn almost didn’t hear. “Don’t do anything. Just leave your arms out….. and let the water hold you up."
Letting go once more, he watched Zayn screw his eyes shut and let go as best he could. “That’s really good," Harry hummed proudly when he determined that this was something Zayn could handle.
Letting his feet sink back to the floor, Zayn pushed himself back up and brought his head out of the water. He stood rubbing his eyes furiously with the back of the hand, trying to rid himself of any water that had threatened to make it’s way inside.
~~~
Harry continued to put Zayn through a series of steps that he had learned when he was young. Much to Zayn’s dismay they spent the next half hour practicing arm movements and wading. Harry had made him attach his arms to the side of the pool (although Zayn was actually grateful about having something to hold onto - though he wouldn’t give Harry the pleasure of saying it out loud) and kick forever. He had actually felt a bit proud of himself when he had somewhat accomplished to swim the short distance across the shallow end of the pool. His heart sank, however, once he noticed Harry had disappeared. “Harry?" he called, rubbing the water out of his eyes once more.
Harry’s voice echoed out, deep and relaxed from the other side of the pool - where he waded in the center of ten feet of water. “I’m over here," he exhaled, the exuberance from Zayn’s accomplishment and the effort of the lap he had taken evident in his voice. Zayn froze in his place - running his toes along one of the cracks in the tile to remind himself that he could still feel the ground, even if Harry couldn’t. ’You had better not make me do anything stupid,’ he worried to himself as Harry ran his fingers through his front fringe which was sticking damply over the curve of his forehead and coughing briefly into a closed fist. “Why don’t you come over here?"
"I’m fine where I am," Zayn breathed in reply and unconsciously moved back further. Harry’s signature smile graced his face once more.
"But you’re doing so well…. even though you didn’t even want to come downstairs," he praised back, genuine pride seemingly glinting from his jade eyes. “Just give this a try." When Zayn didn’t move, Harry let out a low sigh and closed his eyes. Letting himself go, he allowed the water to grab his body and pull him under. Briefly running his hands through his hair (he had always loved the way it rose and flowed without restraint underwater) he kicked his feet and brought himself back up. Breathing lowly, he refilled his lunges - and let water drip off of the tips of his hair and down his closed eyelids - and missing the look of determination set into Zayn’s features. He continued to kick. “It’s fine, you’ve made really good progress on this even though you didn’t want to…… so that’s really good."
Breaking the calm that had engulfed them, the sound of water frantically forcing it’s way throughout the pool had Harry pulling his eyes open to see Zayn trying to kick his way over into the deep section. His eyes scrunched as tightly as possible, blindly throwing his arms out and back to propel his body forward - the lack of confidence completely evident as he tried to keep his lips in a tight line, to prevent swallowing water.
Dismissing everything he had just learned.
"Zayn, your feet! You have to kick!" Harry panicked, trying to rush forward.
"Harry!" He coughed as he accidently swallowed water - the chlorine bitter against his taste buds. Desperately trying to not be that pathetic toddler that stumbles into the pool before they get their floaties on - Zayn began to kick as best he could, sinking despite his efforts. ‘I’m going to fucking die! This is how I go!’ He screamed internally as he started to lose his rhythm and fall - the water encasing his head and sinking below.
Silence. His throat burned - unfamiliar to to the lack of oxygen - and he could feel his heart thumping in the depth of his ears. ‘I need to kick. I can swim. I can do this.’
~~~
Two hands wrapped roughly around his his waist and tugged. He could feel Harry’s feet brushing against his, as he hurriedly kicked them back to the surface. Upon breaking the barrier, Zayn let out a large gasp sucking in clean air - while Harry frantically eased his spazzing body through the water, trying to get them out of the center of the pool. “Calm down. You’re fine, Zee," he groaned with the effort.
Zayn grunted as his back made contact with the wall, Harry’s body hovering over his - securely holding him up. His chest rose and fell quickly against Harry’s - who was watching him with wide worried eyes. “I’m so sorry," he whispered harshly, hushed, fingers digging deeper into Zayn’s hip - refusing to let go until his breathing had returned to normal. “I’m so sorry. You weren’t ready. Are you okay? Can you breathe? I’m sorry. We can get out. We can go back upstairs. I’m so sorry Zayn."
Subconsciously his thumb began stroking his hip bone, back and forth Right over the heart tattoo Harry was so fond of.
Taking a deep breath, Zayn closed his eyes and dropped his head into the crook of Harry’s shoulder.
Harry let his right arm go - his left still gripped tightly - unwilling to let Zayn fall down below once more - and brought his hand up to cup Zayn’s neck comfortably. He willed himself to pull his focus away from the warm puffs of air that danced across his skin and distracted him in a way he shouldn’t be considering the current situation, or any situation in which Zayn was present at all (resulting in Louis teasing him later about learning ‘Zayn Malik Self Control’ - the only brand of Louis’ jokes that truly bothered him). Willed his focus away from himself - to remain on Zayn and calming him down.
He looked down, his eyes settling on the batch of dark black hair (and some blonde) resting, still, under his chin. He had caused this…
Momentarily, Harry cursed himself at not informing Paul of their trip downstairs. He would of told them they couldn’t go. That it was too risky with fans staying in and around the hotel to be down there, that late, by themselves. And Harry wouldn’t of listened and brought Zayn down anyway. Forced him into the pool anyway. But at least there would of been a warning, or Paul would of come with them - a second pair of eyes in case anything went wrong. “I’m so stupid," he muttered, continuing his ministrations on the heart. “I should of stuck it to the shallow end for awhile."
Petting him slowly, Harry tilted his head low and pressed a small kiss to the top of Zayn’s - his lips lingering in the same way they always did whenever he had an opportunity. Savoring as much of the feeling of being able to make this type of contact as he could before he passed a time considered acceptable from a friend.
Zayn just nuzzled deeper into Harry - his stubble scratching his skin, nose rubbing closely and lips unintentionally grazing Harry’s neck.
And the shuddering breath that threatened escape from the depths of Harry’s throat set him on edge all over again. Harry had set rules for himself. There were times (many times) he had difficulties following those rules, but they were there none the less.
Rule number one: do not openly stare at Zayn. He tended to slip during interviews (~and everywhere else~), and would end up catching Louis’ eyes sparkling with mirth and a ridiculous smirk set on his face.
Even though he knew how much it bothered Louis, he found himself quite appreciative that the majority of the fans had settled their focus on them. He couldn’t bear constant harassment about Zayn - and how he can’t ever stop looking at him - and how much he talks to him - and how close they sit - and the feeling that stirs in the depth of his stomach anytime the older lad defends him in an interview - and the feeling that stirs in his groin whenever Zayn slides his hands around his waist, or his arms, or his neck, or his legs…..
Rule number two: don’t lose control in front of Zayn. The rule he was currently breaking.
There were times when Harry just had to disappear, as a result of the attention and affection Zayn showed him (which was really no different than the attention and affection he showed the other boys, which made Harry feel five times more pathetic). On any other circumstance - he would of walked away already. Went to text a few friends. Found something to eat. And if he really couldn’t control it - discreetly broken away from whatever activity they were in the middle of and found a restroom to take care of what he needed to take care of, while thinking about a friend who would never like him back.
But as he held Zayn’s melting body under his, there was nowhere to go and if he started to have a problem in such close proximity, he wouldn’t know what to do. ‘What is wrong with me?’ he groaned. ‘He’s upset. Now’s not the time. Never.’
Zayn took a few more calming breaths before lifting his arms up to wrap around Harry’s neck in a assuring hug. “I’m fine," he hummed - each word resulting in his mouth rubbing the vain of Harry’s neck as he swallowed heavily. “Like, maybe not my best move….. swimming out to sea. Ya know?"
"I shouldn’t of tried to - to convince you,"
Zayn snuggled closer to him. “I do know," he started - fingers familiarly twirling at the base strands of Harry’s hair, though his head placement remained the same. “Like, I do know you’re not actually trying to do me wrong. Like, that you won’t let me get hurt."
"What are you talking about?" Harry groaned dishearteningly Zayn sinking deep below the water’s surface flashing once more through his mind. “You did get hurt. Technically speaking."
Zayn’s wet quiff - which was no longer a quiff, but instead a wet curtain swept haphazardly across his forehead - tickled Harry’s jaw as he lazily rolled his head from side to side. “I know you, Harry."
"Then you know that I’m the obnoxious friend who…. forces the people he cares about to face fears they don’t want to face."
"No… I know you," he hushed. “You just… you wouldn’t of let anything happen to me."
Clenching his eyes shut as tightly as he could, Harry let out a breath - choosing to have hope that that statement held no weight. Zayn thumbed at the base of his neck, hesitating in a very unlike Zayn way. “Of course I wouldn’t," he coughed. “Same as the rest of the boys."
And for a fleeting second, Harry could swear he felt a pair of lips press softly against his own skin.
Pulling back slightly, Zayn let the palm of his hands grip lightly on the sides of Harry’s neck - his thumbs running carefully just in front of the ears people rarely saw. His almond eyes (seemingly darker in the poorly lit pool) swept briefly over the plump of Harry’s lips before rising to settle on on Harry’s.
Unsure of where else to look - Harry just stared back. He could feel the panic stir up in the pit of his stomach, but at the same time his imagination swirled as to what would happen if Zayn looking at him actually mattered. He had always wondered what it would be like to be able to lean down and just take what he wanted. What it would be like to have that permission - that right. Only in his most creative dreams had he gotten to taste Zayn. Experience kissing him. Gripping him. Running his hands through his hair in a very un-friend-like manner. Maybe pulling on it, if that was something Zayn was into. Which in Harry’s mind it was.
~~~
Zayn watched Harry’s eyes glaze over (black overtaking the green) as he rescinded deep inside his own head - a place nobody really understood. Harry was vague at the best of times.
But this look. Zayn understood this look. He had always understood this look.
Harry had natural bedroom eyes, a feature that drove the entire young population of the world mad. He stared at everybody ~everybody~ with an intense gaze that had most people shrinking away with a rosy blush plastered to their cheeks. It wasn’t intentional. He couldn’t help it.
But this look. This look was Zayn’s, and he knew it.
Zayn had been friends with Harry just as long as he’d been friends with Niall, Louis, and Liam. One didn’t go through all they went through - spend as much time together as they spent - and not learn to identify the others’ moods and attitudes. He had seen Harry ‘at work’ countless times. Smoothly chatting up the bird behind the bar, or hanging on the outskirts of the dance floor. Smiling cheekily at the attractive fan in the front row of one of their concerts.
More than once (far more than once - just like the other boys) Zayn had recognized Harry’s demeanor as he walked briskly through the hotel hallway to his room (if he had the single), hand clasped tightly in that town’s conquest. And he had seen the sated change as he said his goodbye’s.
They were similar looks to the one he had now, but this held a certain weight those others didn’t. He had wanted to get off, then. And Zayn was sure that he wanted to get off (with him) now, but he had seen him watching for other reasons. He was sure.
It also helped that Niall had loose lips and had steered Zayn in the right direction. "I reck’n he likes ya," Niall had grinned, before kicking the football back towards him. "I don’t really know, dough. I mean, Lou might’a hinted at something. But I don’t know."
So, Zayn had payed more attention to his younger friend.
Harry would waggle his eyebrows and smile proudly at his dirtiest joke, and when Zayn wouldn’t respond - his face would fall ever so slightly before bouncing right back into place.
And it’s not that Zayn hadn’t thought about it. He had - and to painstakingly difficult detail. He could remember back to X-Factor and meeting the boys. Harry was the quickest to throw his arms around him and offer a welcoming smile and he also got naked…. a lot. There were times when he could feel his face heating up whenever he couldn’t help taking an extra glance.
Zayn had chosen to ignore any of those feelings at the beginning - it was a knew experience and he wasn’t used to having so many people around - getting so close - decidedly lacking barriers. He had knocked it to the stress of the competition.
But as as time went on, he found himself appreciating the many aspects of Harry more and more. In three years time, he knew him just a bit better than the rest of the lads. And in three years time, he had more than once admired his features - especially within the confines of their life.
He just wasn’t sure if that was a path that they were supposed to take. So, he had waited… chosen to determine if Harry’s looks would stop. If the small touches would no longer matter. If he actually felt something for him that he wouldn’t ever feel for the others.
But then he had found Perrie. And Harry had found anybody else he wanted (They were never too sure who he was actually dating. He kept most things private - even from Louis.). And life moved on.
But the looks didn’t.
Against his better judgement (he was with still with Perrie and he really did love her) Zayn let one hand fall further down Harry’s face, his thumb sweeping briefly over the length of his bottom lip. He watched them part slightly, a small breath being quickly sucked in. “Yeah," he forced the sound out of his mouth. It sounded surprising rough, even to his own ears. When Harry’s head responded to his voice - unconsciously dipping lower - Zayn mimicked his movement. Glancing once more into Harry’s eyes, Zayn took what could of been (in his mind)his only chance before Harry’s head cleared and went back to being afraid of what could happen between them….. if they let it.
He pressed forward, a new sense of determination rushing through him, and confidently grazed his lips against Harry’s.
~~~
The obvious relief he exhibited had Harry groaning in embarrassment but only seconds later he found himself pushing forward - his hands reaching up to pull Zayn as closely to him as possible. Two seconds in and kissing Zayn was already one of his favorite things to do.
~~~
The water sloshed up haphazardly around their bodies - angry with it’s sudden disruption - and his back scratched against the back tile as Harry rolled closer to him. But Zayn continued to slide their mouths together, and sucking and nipping carefully at Harry’s bottom lip. Below the water’s surface, Harry knocked his legs apart and settled his knee in between Zayn’s thighs.
And when he felt the growing bulge hidden underneath Harry’s trunks, he pulled back with a moan.
Harry’s thumb (which had made it’s way back to the heart) circled with a more clear purpose. He rested his forehead against Zayn’s - their breath mixing in the small space.
"Yeah," Zayn mumbled before going for his jawline, biting carefully and placing kisses in his wake. “Same as the rest of the boys."
Harry just smirked as he as began to rock down (a painfully slow pace that had Zayn dropping his head back) into Zayn’s own dick. “Christ, Zee," he shuddered once Zayn teeth started tugging lightly at the skin over his collarbones, creating an angry red mark - that he couldn’t wait to turn into a nice dark bruise.
"I love these," he muttered, kissing at the wings of the birds forever imprinted on Harry’s chest. Fingers shaking, Zayn reached down and pushed at the waistband of Harry’s colored trunks, fingers grazing softly against his tip - earning a small whimper in response.
Harry kicked frantically, trying to help the trunks down his legs. They passed his ankles and crouched precariously on his last few toes. Ducking below, he grabbed at them quickly before tossing them outside the pool - landing with a small thump. “Yours," he kissed at the side of Zayn’s mouth. “Get them off."
Zayn did, throwing them to join Harry’s on the side of the pool.
They both stilled suddenly with the weight of the reality of the situation. He watched Harry’s eyes roll back briefly at the contact they made under the water - teasingly brushing against each other waiting until one of them took the next step. Seeing as he believed Harry had been wanting to be with him like this for awhile (almost as long as himself - even though he still hadn’t really admitted it to anyone), he was surprised at his hesitation to move forward. Desire wise he was gone, but control wise he was (difficulty) holding on to the last possible thread.
Behind his blown pupils and obvious intent, there was a worry in his eyes that set Zayn on edge. As if he was worried they would never be the same again. Worried Zayn didn’t really want to do anything and was just blinded by some weird post-traumatic stress disorder. Worried that he was putting himself out on the edge of a cliff and when Zayn was done with him… he’d push.
So, while Zayn wasn’t sure what this situation would mean for their day to day lives (and Perrie’s face flashed behind his eyes, before he shoved the image away), he knew he’d have to move first if they were to finish what they had just started. Harry’s breath danced warmly across his cheek before faltering once Zayn reached below the surface and attempted to wrap his palm around both of them at the same time. His fingers didn’t reach each other on the other end, but his hands weren’t as large as Harry’s, so he hadn’t really expected them to.
"Ahhhuhh," two hands weaved themselves into his hair, tugging his head upwards to look away from the water and back to Harry who went to kiss him again. His tongue ran hungrily along Zayn’s bottom lip, which was swollen from the earlier attack, before running inside and gliding along Zayn’s.
Gripping tightly, Zayn worked his wrist stroking both of them at a quick pace - having wanted it for too long to really slow down. Harry didn’t seem to mind though, as he arched into Zayn’s fist, his chest heaving with quick breath, and clutching desperately at the tattooed skin beneath him. “Let — let me," a groan ripped from his throat, brushing Zayn’s fingers away and replacing them with his own - covering more than the previous.
~~~
With a flick of his fingers, Zayn’s whimpers (a glorious sound, that Harry couldn’t believe he was hearing) grew louder. “Harreh —- Harreh I — I can’t." And a thumb gliding over his tip pushed Zayn over his edge - his eyes squeezing shut as he came under Harry, who continued to stroke him through it. “I — I — here," he exhaled coming down from his own high and going back to finish Harry off - who came only seconds later with his face tucked in the crook of Zayn’s neck. “Hey, hey," he cooed nudging Harry’s head up and plastering kisses along his jawline.
~~~
They stayed like that a few minutes, falling into one another, hearts still racing with endorphin’s, eyes shining, tongues gliding together.
"I can’t believe we’re in the same hotel as ONE DIRECTION!" and girlish voice rang out from the hallway, followed by two more. "What floor do you think they’re on!?" “I don’t know. Oh my fucking god we need to find them." “Get some of that D!" Laughter.
Harry and Zayn broke apart quickly, and Harry placed his hands on the ledge to push himself out of the water. He rushed over to their trunks, tugging his on, and hurriedly throwing the other pair into Zayn’s frantic out-stretched hand. Harry didn’t mind being naked, he loved it in fact. But he didn’t need another picture of his dick making the rounds on the internet. Especially a clear one with a well good camera, making there was no way to deny it being him.
"Seriously, let’s go floor by floor and see if we can sniff them out."
A large smile pulled at the corners of Harry’s mouth and he let out his signature bark of laughter, and Zayn wasn’t far behind. “We should, like," he laughed along with Harry. “Get upstairs before we run into real trouble."
"Pfft haaha! Yeah, I don’t feel like being sniffed out…. they might not like it."
"Come on, then." Zayn grabbed at his towel and wrapped it around his shoulders, while pulling at the door handle. Harry ran his own towel over his head, trying to soak out any water that he could, before his hair soaked it into his scalp like a sponge. “What are we doing tomorrow, again?"
"It’s just a promo day, and then we have the two TV shows later into the night…. We could go and get lunch… or something, though… if you’d like," Harry answered, pushing the elevator button and sliding inside just as a group of girls turned the corner. As the doors slid closed, Zayn reached over and pulled Harry in for another kiss.
~~~
"Turn dat light off," Niall groaned upon Zayn’s entrance back into the hotel room. Josh was gone and the TV was off. The room shone with the light Zayn had just turned on, to search through his suitcase for a pair of pajamas. He tugged his trunks off and tossed them into the bathtub, before pulling on the pajama bottoms, pant-less and shirtless.
Niall rubbed his fists angrily at his eyes, the light blinding him temporarily, waiting for Zayn to shut it off. Zayn flipped the switch once more, and crawled into his own bed, as he was pulling his covers up over his waist he heard Niall call out once more, voice already falling back asleep. “Where da fuck were ya?"
He could hear his own sigh, thunderously loud in the quiet room. “Nowhere…… Harry was.. teaching me how to swim."
His eyes started to droop closed as silence took over the hotel room once more and when Niall did eventually respond (surprising Zayn a little, who had thought his friend had already drifted back off to sleep) his voice was riddled with a satisfied smirk, “Yeah, sure he was."