chance connection |1| [zarry] (✔️)

ninetyseven

"Are you coming to football tomorrow, Harry?" Freddie asks, scooping another spoon of porridge from his bowl. Half of it plops back into the bowl. Zain is too lazy to remind him to eat more carefully.

"Do you want me to, baby?" Harry asks, looking at Zain in question. Zain shrugs with a nod. He doesn't have a problem with Harry staying another night, quite the opposite, and Louis was still enamoured enough by Harry's cooking and babysitting to not mind.

"Yes!" Freddie nods vigorously. "You never watch me play football and I'm really good!"

"Alright," Harry says, shooting another look at Zain, like Zain would object. "I think I can do that, monster. I would love to see you play."

"Good," Freddie nods, shoving another spoonful into his mouth. "I'm gonna shoot lots of goals."

"Swallow before you speak," Harry chides gently. "I'm very much looking forward to it, baby. I'm sure you'll be amazing."

"I always am," Freddie says with a nod, opening his mouth widely at Harry to show that it is empty. "Daddy says so." Zain wrinkles his nose on disgust, amused with the whole interaction.

"If Daddy says so it must be true," Harry answers, stroking his thumb over Freddie's cheek.

Freddie nods in agreement, like Louis of all people was always right. Zain rolls his eyes, feeling very fond of all of them and touches the skin on Harry's back where his t-shirt has ridden up.

🌱

"You should go high," Zain says idly, not looking up from his book, singing the same notes Harry's been going over for what feels like the past hours in a higher register. "Sounds better, yea?"

"What?" he adds when Harry just gapes at him. "You don't have to if it's awful. I just thought it'd sound nicer."

Harry carefully sets the guitar on the couch table and very much not carefully crawls onto Zain's lap, kneeing him in the thigh painfully.

"Ouch. No need to assault me," Zain mutters, stroking Harry's back, a bit disconcerted that Harry still hasn't said a word.

"I love you so much," Harry mutters against Zain's lips, biting at them and licking into his mouth eagerly. "You're so hot. Just. Why are you so hot?"

"Ok," Zain laughs, trying to gentle the kiss, and pulling Harry closer. "Is this your reaction to me being a smartarse? I don't think that's gonna deter me."

"Zain," Harry says, his voice low and breathless, pushing up Zain's shirt and stroking his hands over his belly. He mouths are Zain's neck and his cheek, pressing wet kisses to Zain's skin and scooting lower, mouth in Zain's stomach. "Let's go to the bedroom, really quick."

"Babe," Zain says, trying to slow him down while also trying to figure out if Freddie would notice. Unfortunately, he definitely would. "The monster will follow us the moment he realises we vanished. He's curious like that."

Harry slumps down onto him, whining. "We could try?"

"You can try by yourself," Zain says. "I'm not gonna give myself blue balls."

Harry tilts his head, like he's considering, and Zain laughs at him a bit, patting his head. "You're horny, babe."

"Excuse me, Zain," Harry says indignantly, sitting up. "You can't just start singing and be good at it and expect me to not react."

"Oh, you liked that?" Zain asks smugly, poking at Harry's dimple.

Harry rolls his eyes. "I'm reconsidering," he says, grabbing his phone off the coffee table. "Sing that again."