Ziam oneshots ✔️

No better you than the you that you are

Sticky-eyed and still half asleep, Liam stumbles into the kitchen and stops short at the scene that greets him: Zayn, a paisley apron thrown on over his joggers and rumpled t-shirt, standing behind the centre island and poring intently over a large cookbook. Chris, still in his pyjamas, is sitting onthe island, clanging a steel whisk around an empty bowl as Alex drools happily in his high chair. There are two bags of flour, one of sugar, a crate of eggs, three giant slabs of chocolate, a new box of cocoa powder and about eight different cake tins, all laid out haphazardly, and Zayn's hair is already sticking out like it does when he's a bit harassed. As Liam watches, he scrapes a hand through it again, looking up with a sigh to gently pry the whisk out of their son's hand.

"Don't make a noise, Mama's sleeping," he chides softly, handing Chris an oven mitt shaped like a dragon's head when the boy reaches for the whisk with a growl of rage. Chris immediately stuffs his hand in and pretends to 'bite' off Zayn's nose with his fingers in its soft 'mouth', while Zayn solemnly stays in place for it.

"Mama's up, actually," Liam announces, in an amused voice. Zayn's and Chris' grins are nearly completely identical as they look around at him and Alex's squeal is so high pitched that all three of them wince. "Hello," Liam greets, tousling Chris' hair on his way to pick up Alex.

"'Morning," Zayn says, leaning across the island so Liam can peck him on the mouth.

"It's half past noon," Liam points out, heaving Alex higher up his flank and meandering over to the coffee pot. "You could've woken me up."

"It was almost six when you finally came to bed," Zayn reminds him, rifling through one of the cabinets. "You need the rest, you look dreadful as it is," he adds cheerfully, finally plucking out a set of measuring cups.

"Thanks, you charmer," Liam drawls, spooning an unholy amount of sugar into his mug and stirring. "But I did actually nap for a bit in the nursery before that," he tells him, dropping a kiss to Alex's temple and gulping half a mug of coffee in one go. "And how're we feeling?" he murmurs to his, setting the mug back down to brush back wispy black curls from his son's brow and press his palm to it.

"No fever now, I checked," Zayn assures him, cutting open a bag of flour and immediately wrestling Chris away when he grabs at it. "Chris! No, Ch—," He manages to pry off Chris's small hands, with their incredibly strong grip, from the packet and carefully brings the ingredients to the opposite side of the island. "Stay there," he says to Chris, flinging another oven mitt at him – this one shaped like a frog – and receiving a cheeky grin in return.

"What are you even doing up here, hm?" Liam asks Chris as he retrieves his coffee and makes his way over, gaze briefly dropping to the picture of an obscenely decadent-looking chocolate fudge cake in Zayn's glossy-paged cookbook. "What, just because it's your birthday, you get to climb up onto counters like a little monkey?" He bends in and blows a wet raspberry against Chris's neck and Chris screeches. Alex immediately screeches back and sticks a drool-wet hand onto Chris' cheek, much to his horror.

"Alex!" he huffs, pushing his hand off and wiping his cheek on his sleeve. "No," he says firmly, holding up an imperious finger. "Is my buh-day, Mama," he adds to Liam with another snooty huff, and Liam doesn't know whether he's tickled or horrified by how much of himself he sees in that small, haughty little pout.

"Quick, spell 'birthday'," he deadpans, and bites his upper lip to hide his grin when Chris looks mystified.

"Such an arse," he hears Zayn mutter on a laugh, and turns, lewd retort on the tip of his tongue before he abruptly reigns himself in and sticks his face back into his coffee. When he sneaks a glance, Zayn is darting him a curious, thoughtful look and Liam feels his face heat some more.