chance connection |2| [zarry]

onehundredninety

"What time's it?" Zain asks, blinking his eyes open, when Freddie lets himself fall on top of him, very effectively waking them.

"Almost 8," Harry answers, bleary-eyed and still half-asleep, putting his phone back onto the bedside table and sitting up.

"Urgh," Zain makes, wrapping his arms around Freddie and kissing his head.

"Yea," Harry agrees, kissing Zain quickly and slipping out of bed.

"Did you sleep ok, monster? Or did Harry snore?" Zain asks, stroking Freddie's cheek.

"Oi," Harry protests, pulling sweatpants on and glaring. If he didn't have to use his hand, Zain knows he'd have pointed.

"He always snores," Freddie says sleepily, disloyal as he was, his face pressed mostly into Zain's neck. "But it's ok."

"That's good, baby," Zain says, hiding his yawn on Freddie's hair and appreciating a quite and mostly still kid, watching Harry vanish into the bathroom.

"We'll call your dad after breakfast, alright, love?" Zain asks, stroking a hand through Freddie's soft hair.

"It's ok," Freddie answers. "Can we still play football later? Harry said the park was cool."

"You went to the park here already, remember?" Zain asks, leaning down to kiss Freddie's cheek.

"No," Freddie denies. "I didn't."

"Yea, you did," Harry says around his toothbrush, leaning against the bathroom door frame, watching them with his feet crossed, his eyes warm and soft the way Zain likes.

Freddie frowns at Harry but shrugs, apparently not bothering to be stubborn for once. Zain rubs his back and forces himself into sitting up, taking Freddie with him.

"Look at you," Harry grins, sucking in a bit of toothpaste foam before it drips drown his chin and smirking at Zain. "Getting up with us. You trying to pretend you're not lazy for my mum?"

"Get dressed before you start making fun of me," Zain says, setting Freddie down and getting up . He crosses the short distance between them, flicking Harry's nipple, making him flinch, pecking his cheek and lingering for a moment.

Harry lets himself be crowded against the wall easily, smelling like toothpaste and his face cream and a bit stale because he hasn't bothered to wash his hair since Thursday.

"Harry!" Freddie demands, interrupting. "You didn't pack my arsenal shirt! I told you to!"

"Yea, babe," Zain whispers, "he told you to."

Harry pushes him away carefully, rolling his eyes. Zain runs his hand down Harry's side as he steps away, sidestepping Freddie to get to the bathroom.

"It's in the wash at home, baby," Harry says, following Zain to rinse out his mouth.

"But I wanna wear it," Freddie pouts, following them and wrapping himself around Zain's leg to pout up at Harry. He looks like he should get a starring role as Oliver Twist or something, looking like he's been deprived of all the essentials in the world and not just his favourite shirt for a weekend.