The Missing Piece

Nine

Niall sits on the living room couch with his knees pulled up into his chest, holding Spot atop of his kneecaps and brushing the stuffed dogs fluffy hair back.

The house is silent; it's the weekend and everyone else is sleeping, except he'd woken up early and climbed out of bed without waking up either of the two grown ups. He sleeps there every night now, curled up close to Harry's chest with Zayn close behind him. He likes it. He feels safe.

It's been almost three weeks since he came to live here, and he still doesn't know what he's supposed to call the two men. He knows they're his Dad and Papa, so that's what he should probably call them, except there's this huge part of him that only wants to call George his Dad, nobody else. So, he avoids calling his...parents, anything at all. Names and titles omitted.

He likes having brothers. Louis knows how to make up really fun pretend games, and Liam let him play video games with him in his rooms a few evenings ago, and that'd been fun too. Still, he misses his Dad - he misses George. Even if he really is a bad guy.

He huffs, keeping ahold of Spot and grabbing Bunny from his side as well, rolling onto his stomach with his feet kicked up behind him, playing with his two teddies quietly, whispering to himself, the sort of games he'd play at home when his Daddy doesn't want him to be too noisy.

Somebody walks into the kitchen behind the living space, and Niall sets his teddies aside to kneel up and rest his chin on the back of the couch instead. He tilts his head to the side, watching as Zayn walks into the kitchen in pyjama bottoms and a baggy shirt, filling up the coffee machine and rubbing at one eye tiredly as he waits for it to boil.

He hasn't spent a lot of time with Zayn. The man works a lot, and Harry is the one who stays here with him, doing his schoolwork with him, watching TV with him, baking with him.

He continues to watch the man potter around the kitchen silently, and when Zayn happens a glance in his direction, he jumps, then brings a hand up to his chest.

"Christ, kiddo, you scared me half to death," he says through a chuckle, stepping down the slope that leads into the living room, moving to sit on the armrest next to Niall. "How'd you learn to be so quiet, hm?"

Niall shrugs his shoulders up to his ears. "Just am," is all he says, which makes the man laugh again, even though he isn't trying to be funny.

"Alright. Well, you ready for breakfast, my little early bird?" Zayn - Papa - whatever he's supposed to call him, asks softly.

He shrugs again, rubbing tiredly at one eye. "Pancakes?" He asks hopefully, because he doesn't get them every morning even though he's discovered that they're his favourite breakfast.

Zayn chuckles and stands. "Well, I'm definitely not as good at them as your Daddy, so how about the kind that I can just stick on a plate and warm up in the microwave?" He asks.

He nods, following Zayn over to the kitchen and then climbing up onto one of the stools at the island, watching as the man sets about making his breakfast.

"So, how come you're up so early again? Not up for a lie-in?"

Niall chews his lip, watching the man put a plate of pre-made pancakes into the microwave and then turns to face him.

"I don't know," he says, playing with the too-long sleeves of one of his new pyjama top that Harry had ordered for him.

Zayn nods. "Okay. Well, maybe we can set about repainting your room at half term when I have some time off? Make it a little more you," he offers.

Niall frowns. "I like sleepin' in you guys' room," he says, making the man nod quickly.

"I know, and I like having you there. So does your Dad. I just...don't want you to be afraid to sleep in your own bedroom here."